Category Archives: UKTrip

William Gibson (coming from the USA) described London as a kind of mirror world, where things were almost the same as home, but somehow a little bit different. Others have described London as a city, built on a city, built on a city. 

Looking at buildings and structures, London shares the same links to the 1800s as Sydney, but the echos of the 1800s are stronger here. There are fainter echos of the 1700s and further back, and also strong echos of post WWII reconstruction London. 

The plane from Dubai has had a sprinkling of accents to what I guess are London and Birmingham. The airport is filled with lilts and bleats and grunts. In the back of my mind I see accents moving and changing over time, and ponder a linguists ability to break them down into rhotic vectors. 

Gatwick airport has little on its own to distinguish it as being uniquely English, I kind of universal international franchise of airport. Many of the brands and shops look the same as Sydney, WH Smith, Duty Free, (although Starbucks survives.) I notice that even a chip packet dispensing machine is disappointingly full of Doritos.  The one thing that stood out was the service desk telephones gave off a high-pitched purr that sounds like a 1980s UK cop show. 

Coming from Gatwick airport I change at Clapham junction. The gap between the level of the platform and the next train elevation is phenomenal. I feel like my massive suitcase will drag me into a massive black chasm. I will be seen disappearing to the sound of a Wilhelm scream. 

The Southern Railway is aiming to Intercity travel in the same way that Sydney trains are, with fewer compromises. Still single level, some seats with tables. Some seats with USB or even 240 charging for laptops. The train information display screens feel a level above as well – with information about reasons for delay like trespassers on the track, and which station the train we’re waiting for is at.

There is a heightened sense of social obligation here, in a way that Australians are generous/ambivalent about. When celebrating a free seat next to us with a 20 year old cricketer on the plane, he suddenly looked horrified and said “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”. When on the train station and the schedule changed for the third time, a gusty sigh escaped my mouth, and the eyes of several people around were on me briefly.

Waterloo station has echos of Central station, with more platforms and levels in a smaller space.  The station has its own logo (perhaps a simplified coat of arms). Tapping a card with UK pounds makes ticking a breeze. 

People on the escalator stand to the right instead of the left for a reason I haven’t figured out. 

I post for a moment at a pedestrian crossing waiting for my turn and then realised I missed it because there was no alert sound. 

I crossed to a park and wonder what the flowers are and realise I’m looking at daffodils in the evening light. 

My AirBnB room in shared accomodation has a cylindrical lock on the back (unlike the square Lockwood style locks of home). 

The shared shower has a little plastic box (like Japan) with dials and a button to push to start the water. 

[This is written for my daughter Trinity, and my mother Katrina. I’m painting a background picture of my journey.]

“A new age is coming Francesco, ” he said as he washed his paint brush. 

“How so Leonardo?” Francesco looked nonplussed. 

“Do you remember growing up, and the greatest buildings in the town were the Roman ruins? We were surrounded by an age that was past.”

“So what?”

“Now the merchants are travelling further, are having more fortune, and are building great buildings, buildings greater than the Romans.”

“Hmm, ok.”

“Oooh, ow my wrist!” the third burst out. 

“Do be quiet Gian!” Leonardo exclaimed. 
“This new era is coming Francesco. A new age of measuring and making wonderful things“ Leonardo continued.  “Did you see the Giotto painting from Florence?”

“Well yes. But I don’t get what you see in it.”

“Normally when we paint, we paint with gusto and passion, and slam it out on the page. It seems ok, but looking at this new painting it shows we can do better.”

“I don’t get it.”
“Giotto measured, and then painted. The perspective of the road and buildings receded out into the distance in a way that matches what you see.”

“Well that’s just a new painting technique.”

“Oooh, owww my wrists!” Gian lamented.  

Leonardo continued, ignoring the outburst. 

“This new age, this age of building things, it will be shaped by measurement on one hand and craftsmanship on the other. On one hand human reason, and the other human art.”

“Hmmm,” reflected Francesco. 

“I wanted to communicate it to the world Francesco.” 

“Well planning dams and civic works for the princes ain’t gonna do it.“

“Oh, that’s just the day job Franceco. Something to pay the bills.”

“Look, think about the Cardinals, Leonardo. They don’t take too kindly to shouting a message of human reason.  I’m not talking about God of course, he’s fine with us using our heads. You need something more subtle.” 

“I know what you mean Francesco. I have this idea of a work to capture this message, to send it to the world.”

“It’s a big ask Leonardo, to get a work of art to send that message.”

“My idea is a couple, ready to dance, walking down to the ballroom. One is creativity, the other is human reason. Together they will make a wonderful place.”

“Nope! Doesn’t work. Too complicated. You need something much simpler.”

 “Oh bother! Gian, how are those accounts going?”

“Mr Leonardo sir, my wrists hurt from all this copying of the canal drawings.”

“Well work with your other hand Gian.”

“Well it’s difficult sir. I find that I can draw with my left hand, but when I do the accounts, that only works with my right hand.”

“Say that again Gian.”

“Sir, I can draw with my left hand, but I have to do the books with my right hand.”

A glint came into Leonardo’s eye. 

“Gian, I have a new stretch for you, something that will benefit all.”

“What is it?

“Stand up, with your feet wide apart. Now stretch out your arms horizontally.”

Leonardo touched the  thumb to the forefinger of the other hand, and repeated it with his remaining thumb and forefinger to make a rectangle, and looked through it. 

“Do you see that Francesco?”

Francesco made a rectangle with his fingers, framing the image, and looked for a moment.

“Hmmm. Yes, yes I do Leonardo.”

“But you must be careful Leonardo. Sometime soon, someone is gong to take this message of human agency and reason, and then get in a lot of trouble with the church. ”

There is a kind of magic in hopping on a plane in what feels like the middle of the night, to go to a place where you’re not required to do anything but be. 

As we fly across the globe, the sunrise chases us, but never quite catches us – caught the land of the night for as long as we can fly. 

The darkness of the cabin, the hum of air rushing past, people sleeping or watching screens.
There is the occasional click of a seat strap, people softly walking to the bathroom.
On one screen is Forrest Gump, another shows a Disney animated film. 

There is a strangeness in escaping to the dream behind the screen, when one is already in a waking dream, travelling to a world that is a dream.