Ireland

On Wednesday last week I finished my contract at Essex, and the following day set off with my American pals Ruth & Phil to see a few sights on an Irish road trip.  It was to be only my second visit to Ireland, having enjoyed a fun week there in spring 1997 with Jennifer, Hayley and Laura.  I was keen to see how much I remembered from the dim and distant 20th century.

We met at Hatton Cross and picked up our little Nissan Micra from the rental place, which was staffed by a curious bunch who claimed we needed a form to take the car to ‘certain places in Ireland’ – places that they couldn’t name.  Oh, and they didn’t have a copy of the form or know what it was for.  After eventually tracking down an email copy from one of their other branches it appeared that the part of Ireland it applied to was the Republic of Ireland, i.e. everything except Northern Ireland!  And they still had no idea what it was actually for.  Into the glovebox with it, where it was promptly forgotten.

It’s been a few years since Phil drove on the left so I was able to get behind the wheel for the drive to our first stop, Oxford.  It was the first time I’d driven in the UK, and it was highly entertaining.  The first thing that strikes you is the massive overkill of road signs that festoon every possible intersection.  It’s as if the roads agency gets a bonus for every extra sign they erect, whether or not it’s necessary, and the combined effect is confusing for the uninitiated.  Still, we managed to find our way around the hated M25 circular and out to Oxford.  Having visited only a few weeks ago, I was well placed to show R&P around on a quick tour taking in the beautiful university buildings and a dinky market near the bus station. 

Then it was onwards to Stratford-upon-Avon, again a place I’d recently visited, for another whistle-stop tour, taking in Shakespeare’s house and burial site, the almshouses and the Harvard house. 

Then we realised we had better hurry if we were going to make our ferry to Dublin, which departed from the port of Holyhead in Anglesey at 9.30pm.  We had four and a half hours to get there, which was plenty of time, but we hadn’t reckoned on the traffic around Birmingham, which delayed us by about half an hour.  Despite a rather nerve-jangling dash across the north Wales motorway, during which Phil performed small wonders in his alternate guise as a Formula 1 driver, we arrived at Holyhead only to find that we were just slightly too late to get aboard our ferry.  It had yet to depart, but there was a 45 minute cut-off before departure and we had just missed it.  Damn.  Fortunately there was space aboard the next sailing, but it was at 2.30am (!)  So we went to a local beach (Trearddur Bay – see picture above) for a stroll at dusk and then whiled away a couple of hours at Holyhead’s McD’s (open til midnight – a positive boon for once). 

Once we were finally on board the ferry Phil located some comfy sofa benches for us, so we were able to grab a few hours of quality dozing time on the 3 1/4 hour trip from Holyhead to Dublin.

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It was a bright and shining dawn when we arrived in the Irish capital, and once we negotiated the ludicrous network of inner city one-way streets to find our hotel, we then found an equally elusive car park and settled down to the very important business of catching up on a few hours of sleep.

By the time we emerged Dublin was still basking in the warm sunshine.  Our first stop was Trinity College Dublin, which was founded in the Elizabethan era, to see the marvellous Book of Kells, which one of the great wonders of medieval artwork.  Lovingly produced perhaps 1200 years ago, and therefore a near contemporary of the Alfred Jewel I saw a few weeks ago, the Book has survived numerous monastery fires and theft by Vikings in 1007, only to be recovered a few months later ‘under a sod’! 

TCD is also home to the lovely Long Room library, which was one of the abiding memories of my last Dublin visit.  This vast chamber is a temple to knowledge, replete with antique books with two storeys of shelves and a fine arched ceiling.  The smell of old paper, binding and parchment is unforgettable. 

After a visit to two photography galleries in Temple Bar to admire the collections (photos from the Civil War and the Prix Pictet photojournalism finalists for 2009), we signed up for an entertaining evening with the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl.  Hosted by two genial and well-versed local actors, the tour illustrated the watering holes of various Irish men of letters, with a sizeable helping of humour and some rewarding performances of scenes from their best works.  Highly recommended if you happen to be in Dublin, even if (like me) you’re not particularly knowledgeable about the oeuvre.

We rounded off the evening with a visit to Temple Bar, which was heaving with music fans attending a free soul revue at a nifty outdoor venue in a small square.  We caught John, Shelley & The Creatures and The Burning Effigies, who were both excellent, and enjoyed some of the craic with the locals.

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Then it was time to bid farewell to Dublin and head northwards.  After extricating ourselves from the one-way system we headed north to visit one of the most impressive Stone Age sites in Europe – the famous passage tomb at Newgrange.  Since I’d last visited they’ve installed a swish visitors centre on the south side of the Boyne (the Battle was fought nearby) and now you’re whisked to Newgrange in a minibus rather than clogging up the tiny country lanes with cars.  Up close the tomb is awe-inspiring – the massive effort that went into its construction and the simple elegance of its decorations are still remarkable – and the evidence archaeologists have found here is all we know of the people who lived here 5000 years ago.  Five millennia: that’s older than Stonehenge and older than the Pyramids, if you want a sense of how ancient Newgrange is. 

 

The visit includes a trip down the cramped entrance passage to the beautifully engineered burial chamber, with its cleverly overlapping slate roof and three side chambers.  The coiled spiral carvings of the original builders are still prominent on the walls.  The guide turns out the lights and uses a lightbulb to simulate the famous winter solstice sunrise, which beams down the passage only five mornings a year.  There’s a massive oversubscription to the lottery for the 100 tickets drawn each year, and even if you win a spot you’re not guaranteed a view of the sunrise because it may well be overcast! 

After savouring the history at Newgrange we headed northeast, swinging around the Mountains of Mourne in County Down to admire the rugged coastline.  We stopped at the catchily-named Bloody Bridge, where a brutal massacre took place in 1641: up to 50 captives were slain and thrown over the jagged rocks to their demise.

As the evening grew older we checked into the Belfast International Youth Hostel for our brief stay, and then walked into town to try to find some dinner.  This was easier said than done, as it appears Belfasters are far more interested in drinking than they are in eating.  Eventually we located a GBK and tucked into some New Zealand-style burgers; Phil and I had the kiwiburgers, although of course I had it without the noxious beetroot.  As the night stretched past midnight we strolled back to our digs past a multitude of locals in skimpy attire, most of whom were staggeringly drunk.  We were quite impressed with the fellow walking in front of us – well, ‘walking’ is a bit of an exaggeration, ‘slalom weaving’ more like, but at least he was capable of texting sweet nothings on his Blackberry at the same time.  Now that’s multitasking.

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The next morning we enjoyed the offerings from the hostel cafeteria and then headed out to drive the Antrim Coast Road.  It was another clear, fine day: our luck had held.  First stop was the seaside town of Carrickfergus a short drive north of Belfast.  Here we paused to admire the splendid castle dominating the shore and the statue of William III, who landed here with his army in June 1690. 

 

A short drive north led us to the tiny village of Glenarm, where we stocked up on a Famous Five-style picnic at Sally’s Coffee Shop, which proved to be a great choice.  Glenarm boasts its own castle, and although we didn’t have time to check out its grounds we did admire the fine southern wall and gate.

The picnic lunch was consumed at the pretty Glenariff Forest Reserve, with spectacular views down the glacier-carved glen to the sea.  Then, pausing only for an obligatory tangle with a herd of cows on a narrow country lane, we headed for the highlight of our visit to Northern Ireland: the famous Giant’s Causeway.  This peculiar geological formation carpets the coast near Portrush and is a major tourist attraction.  The curiously-shaped interlinked hexagonal spires are like the best outdoor set Blake’s 7 never had, and on a sunny day like we had hundreds of visitors were clambering over the rocks with glee. 

 

We drove to Derry, where R&P were staying that night and where I caught a train all the way back to Belfast for a mere £6.  It was time to part company with Ruth and Phil, which of course was a sad moment.  Luckily the trip back was somewhat adventurous, given I had to deal with a carriage full of bellowing, caterwauling locals who just about drove me mental with their shouting and mobile phone music.  Then once I finally moved seats, the chap sitting across from me was arrested by four police officers who boarded the train at Antrim.  Couldn’t work out what he was being charged with, but they stopped the train for 10 minutes to take witness statements from some passengers so it must’ve been reasonably serious.  Never a dull moment in Northern Ireland!

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I had several hours in the morning before my flight back to London, so I walked the short distance from the hostel to the Botanic Gardens for a look around, and waited for the Ulster Museum to open at 10am.  The museum itself is excellent, and is particularly strong on both local art and history.  It rivals the National Museum in Copenhagen for the clarity of its narrative, with each room taking visitors through well-defined periods of history and showing the connections between everything.  I particularly enjoyed the pre-history section, medieval relics like the St Patrick’s Arm reliquary, and of course the museum’s famous Egyptian mummy, Takabuti, whose shrivelled head still bears flowing locks of ancient hair, and whose nails look like they’re definitely in need of a manicure.

It was an excellent few days in Ireland with great company.  I wish it didn’t have to come to an end so soon.  Next stop: New York!

Aelfred mec heht gewyrcan

The beautiful ornament pictured above is known as the Alfred Jewel, which has been called ‘probably the single most important archaeological object in England’ by the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, which now holds the jewel in its collections.  Discovered in 1693, it was made over a thousand years ago for the only English king to bear the title ‘the Great’ – Alfred of Wessex, who reigned over a troubled kingdom in the 9th century. 

Aside from being a warrior king leading his people against Danish invaders and others, Alfred was also a dedicated scholar, with a keen interest in promoting the spread of literacy and a sense of national identity through the written word.  John William Cousin, in his 1910 work A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature, described Alfred’s literary impact:

The earlier part of his life was filled with war and action, most of the details regarding which are more or less legendary. But no sooner had he become King of Wessex, in 871, than he began to prepare for the work of re-introducing learning into his country. Gathering round him the few scholars whom the Danes had left, and sending for others from abroad, he endeavoured to form a literary class […]  Though not a literary artist, [he] had the best qualities of the scholar, including an insatiable love alike for the acquisition and the communication of knowledge. He translated several of the best books then existing, not, however, in a slavish fashion, but editing and adding from his own stores.

It was this sense of scholarship and a desire to improve his subjects’ education that led Alfred to reproduce copies of Pastoral Care, a highly influential 6th century treatise by Pope Gregory I, translate it into the then current Old English, and distribute it to monasteries throughout his kingdom.  With each copy he is said to have included a jewelled aestel, or reading pointer, and it is believed that the Alfred Jewel is one of these.  It bears an inscription around its curved gold rim: ‘Aelfred mec heht gewyrcan’ - ‘Alfred ordered me to be made’.  Alfred’s own translation of Pastoral Care still exists, and it is the oldest known book written in English.    

Implements like the aestel are no longer in widespread use, but at the time they would have been practical objects as well as works of art.  Literacy was far from widespread at the time, and even wealthy and powerful individuals were not necessarily literate.  Reading was still considered a niche skill, generally practiced by priests and perhaps some merchants, and the assistance of a pointer may have assisted less confident readers.  Only a few hundred years earlier it was considered noteworthy that the 4th century St Ambrose could read without moving his lips:

When [Ambrose] read, his eyes scanned the page and his heart sought out the meaning, but his voice was silent and his tongue was still. Anyone could approach him freely and guests were not commonly announced, so that often, when we came to visit him, we found him reading like this in silence, for he never read aloud.

Windsor Castle

Located on a splendid rocky outcrop beside the winding Thames in a strategic spot guarding the western approaches to London, Windsor Castle has been the site of prominent fortifications for nearly a thousand years.  William the Conqueror erected the artificial hill that still forms the centrepiece of the castle grounds, and placed a wooden fort upon it.  Later came Henry II’s famed Round Tower and the vast curtain walls pierced with cross-shaped arrow-slits.  Later still came the beautiful late Gothic St George’s Chapel, the spiritual home of the Order of the Garter, the most prestigious and historic order of chivalry in Britain.  Windsor is the world’s largest inhabited castle: it’s also a royal residence, said to be the Queen’s favourite home.

The start of my visit involved a brief wait while fifty or so smartly dressed Scandinavians got themselves in order.  A Norwegian Army band, decked out in black-plumed hats and green epaulettes, then marched with trumpets blaring a jaunty tune, up into the castle and out into the Lower Ward near St George’s Chapel, where they performed a series of military marching tunes and a seemingly obligatory and not particularly martial Michael Jackson medley (The Way You Make Me Feel followed by Thriller). 

After a brief listen I took the opportunity to visit St George’s Chapel, a remarkably beautiful structure in the Perpendicular Gothic style with a superb broad fan-vaulted nave ceiling supported by external buttresses.  The choir holds the heraldic insignia of the current Knights of the Garter, resting above half-drawn swords to indicate eternal vigilance against threats to the Crown.  In the middle of the floor lies the tomb of three notable figures: Henry VIII, his favourite wife Jane Seymour, and the reunited body and head of Charles I.  But perhaps my favourite aspect of the chapel was the venerable graffiti markings, particularly near at the far end from the pulpit – one scoundrel found himself a quiet moment to scratch his name and the date of his visit: ‘John Frost, 1599’.

Then it was time to visit the State Apartments.  A small gallery displayed selections from the sumptuous royal art collection, including some works of the genius Leonardo – a deftly-realised sketch of a baby in his mother’s womb was startlingly realistic, and presumably drawn from an autopsy.  There was also a charming selection of royal photography from the Queen’s early years, when she looked like a regal Shirley Temple.

The Apartments were, as expected, an impressive spectacle, particularly the sweeping grandeur of St George’s Hall, in which 160 guests dine on a single table with suitable pomp: you’ve probably seen the documentaries showing how the table settings are individually measured out with rulers to ensure everything looks perfect.  Various treasures are on display throughout the Apartments, including a comically distended set of armour for a corpulent Henry VIII, and a small locket containing a humble slug of lead less than a centimetre wide, which pierced the shoulder and penetrated its victim until it nestled near the spine, resulting in eventual death.  Its target was Horatio, Lord Nelson, and the surgeon who removed the bullet after Nelson’s death at Trafalgar in 1805 wore it around his neck for the remainder of his own life. 

Incidentally, because the Royal Standard was flying on the flagpole of the Round Tower, the Queen was in residence when I visited.  This doesn’t necessarily mean she was physically present – she may well have been busy doing royal things elsewhere during the day.

 

Above, clockwise from top left: The Round Tower; Guardsman on sentry duty in the Upper Ward; St George’s Chapel exterior; further view of the Round Tower garden.

UK General Election: Votes per MP

The UK general election held on 6 May elected a Commons with no single party holding a majority.  The election was held under the old first past the post voting system, which favours the two largest political parties at the expense of the smaller ones.  While some newspapers have drawn attention to the disparity between the percentage of votes cast for each party and the percentage of seats that each gained, it’s also interesting to examine the number of votes cast for each MP gained.

Naturally there is a caveat.  Strictly speaking the election isn’t over yet – due to the death of a candidate, one electorate contest has been postponed until the end of May.  So the figures below will alter slightly once those votes are included. 

Here’s the numbers as they stand now, in order of votes received.  Parties receiving under 100,000 votes, aside from the Alliance, which returned one MP, have been omitted. 

UK General Election 2010: Votes cast per elected MP

Party	Votes	MPs	Votes/MP
Conservatives	10,706,647	306	34,989
Labour	8,604,358	258	33,350
Lib Dem	6,827,938	57	119,788
UKIP	917,832	0	-
BNP	563,743	0	-
Scottish National	491,386	6	81,898
Green	285,616	1	285,616
Sinn Fein	171,942	5	34,388
Dem Unionist	168,216	8	21,027
Plaid Cymru	165,394	3	55,131
SDLP	110,970	3	36,990
Ulster Unionist	102,361	0	-
Alliance	42,762	1	42,762

 

The existing system has disadvantaged far-right political parties like the BNP and UKIP, and many will not see that as a great shame, me included.  But they were the most disadvantaged by the current system, receiving 1.47 million votes without winning a single seat.  Not far behind and on the opposite end of the political spectrum are the Greens, whose widely spread but thin support base meant that all the 285,000 Green votes only elected one MP, the party’s leader Caroline Lucas.

The Conservative and Labour parties received similar levels of return on their voting turnout, electing one MP for every 33 to 34,000 votes.  (Sinn Fein achieved the same result, and the SDLP wasn’t far off).  Of the prominent minor parties, it is the SNP and the Lib Dems who have the most to be disgruntled about.  The 6.8 million Lib Dem votes were 3.4 times less effective than those cast for the Conservatives and 3.6 times less effective than those cast for Labour.  SNP votes were approximately a third as strong as those cast for the two major parties.

Obviously, under a system of proportional representation such electoral disparities would be eliminated. 

She & Him

 

She & Him with the Chapin Sisters

Shepherd’s Bush Empire

10 May 2010

 

Sometimes the mood of a gig can be judged by the taste of the sound tech’s choice of intro music.  So the choice of musical selections by Arthur Lee’s influential but often forgotten group Love for the pre-gig entertainment at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire was a clear indication that She & Him, otherwise known as Zooey Deschanel and M. (Matt) Ward, have impeccable taste in music.  

While there is a certain vogue for actors attempting to cross over into the world of music - I’ve written about this before – Zooey Deschanel, known for her work in films including Elf, Almost Famous and (500) Days of Summer, is regarded as one of the most multi-talented.  Her voice has the advantage of clarity and purity, while retaining a charming hint of untutored naivety, which acts as a refreshing counterpoint to the sea of autotuned robot pop-tarts and soulless show-off foghorns that currently dominate the pop charts. 

Deschanel’s voice is decorated by her musical partnership with talented singer-songwriter M. Ward, which has seen the pair’s shared love of the Beatles and Phil Spector Wall of Sound-era pop, with a sideline in fine country ballads, create a stylish amalgam of tunes and lyrics that evoke the strongest years of the pop groups who lived and played in thrall to vocal harmonies and rhythm guitars.

The ‘She’ in She & Him is quite as beautiful as you might have heard, which certainly does their chances of success no harm.  In a baby-blue sleeveless dress with white shoes, like Lily Allen minus the urchin overtones, Deschanel chirps at the microphone, rattling her tambourine or pecking at the organ.  Her vocals range effortlessly from perky girl-group pop to pin-drop sultry torch song elegance to plaintive country simplicity to rousing Beatlesque chorusing.  Delightfully, when she’s particularly caught up in the set’s rockier performances she expresses her excitement by bounding on the spot like a rapt three-year-old at a birthday party.

The ‘Him’ lurks at the fringes of the stage, marshalling the music from stage left, issuing plangent surf chords and slide guitar ruminations, with the odd interjection of smooth backing vocals.  The quietly-spoken Ward brings a commanding knowledge of rock and pop history to Deschanel’s songs, and is happy for her to dominate the spotlight.

Highlights from the 90-minute set: the pair ditched their band for The Miracles’ You Really Got A Hold On Me, and captured the audience with just bare voices and acoustic guitar.  The lead single from Volume One, Why Do You Let Me Stay Here, was as insanely catchy as on record, with the peerless Ward guitar break perfectly executed to seal an exuberant pop moment.  This led straight into This Is Not A Test, with its euphoric chorus outro a declaration of optimism and let-it-go release.  In the first encore Chuck Berry’s Roll Over Beethoven was Ward’s rock ‘n roll party piece to shake the room.  And to close, Deschanel’s spine-tingling performance of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ I Put A Spell On You displayed room-filling vocal prowess (see below).  It’s left ‘til last because like Twist & Shout on the Beatles’ Please Please Me, once you’ve given a performance like that there’s no return. 

While the first She & Him album was something of a cult affair, the recently issued Volume Two has crossed over into mainstream success, reaching number 6 on the US pop charts.  This poses an interesting question for Zooey Deschanel – does she still want two careers?  Because if last night’s performance was anything to go by, the star power of She & Him easily matches her considerable acting talents.

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Earlier, support act the Chapin Sisters, the nieces of folk singer Harry Chapin (of Cat’s In The Cradle fame), impressed with their close vocal harmonies and the quality of their melodic country-folk performance.  Reduced from their initial quota of three voices to a mere two by the pregnancy of one sister, the remaining Chapins gave a strong showing, appearing in long white dresses reminiscent of a Greek chorus.  They also provided skilful backing vocals and supporting instrumentation for She & Him’s set, bringing out the rich harmonies that are layered through so many of their recordings.  There’s a nice clip of them performing last summer below, in which they cope admirably with a slightly unruly son on stage. 

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One theme of the evening was the running battle waged between the Empire’s ushers and the attending crowd, who had been asked not to take photos or videos of the bands.  Many disregarded the request and the auditorium was constantly illuminated by the ghostly glare of LCD screens as they snapped away.  I can understand the urge to secure a souvenir picture of an event, but the desire to spend a significant portion of a gig viewing the action through a tiny screen seems a foolish one, not to mention the irritation it causes to people like me who find the screen glow a distracting nuisance.  But the main objection I have to serial amateur photographers is that it’s simply bad manners – artists don’t want every live performance to be scrutinised for a pratfall or wardrobe malfunction. 

That said, I am somewhat torn on this point because I’ve linked to a fan video below from a London gig a few days earlier, with Deschanel decked out as a 21st century Karen Carpenter.  Perhaps in the future it will become standard for bands to release entire gigs in video format, either free or at a small cost, but until then I suppose we have to put up with a bit of surreptitious recording.  But can’t you work out a way to do it without turning your screen on, people?

See also:

She & Him & Joseph Gordon-Levitt – Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? (500 Days of Summer alternate video)

She & Him – Thieves (Live on Jimmy Kimmel Live)

 

She & Him – I Put A Spell On You (Live at Koko, 7 May 2010)

 

The Chapin Sisters – Remember When The Music (Live in Nova Scotia, August 2009)

The Wallace Collection

Tucked away from the crowds of Oxford Street in leafy Manchester Square, a grand former French embassy now houses one of London’s lesser-known art galleries.  The Wallace Collection, located in Hertford House on the north side of the square, contains the art riches of the first four Marquesses of Hertford and Sir Richard Wallace, the philanthropic son of the 4th Marquess.  Its collection of European paintings is particularly strong, with perhaps its most famous canvas being Franz Hals’ The Laughing Cavalier from 1624.  In addition, there are plentiful collections of bronzes, ceramics, and several rooms containing arms and armour from the late medieval period through to the 19th century. 

Today I paid my second visit to the Wallace Collection – the first since my initial visit two years ago.  In 2008 photography was not permitted, but now the curators have sensibly allowed non-flash photography so I was able to document some of the excellent exhibits.  And unlike the British Museum, which I stopped in to visit afterwards, the Wallace wasn’t heaving with visitors, despite it being a rainy Sunday.  And did I mention entry is free?

[Three Wallace Collection panoramas, showing the luxurious fittings of Hertford House.  The red room on the first floor contains The Laughing Cavalier – centre of the right wall.  The empty room is temporarily without exhibits.  Impressive wallpaper though]

  

[Clockwise from top left: 17th century Dutch portrait; 16th century German knight’s armour; French mantel clock from the 1730s; Indian ceremonial silver mace, late 18th century]