Amusing lyrics

Came across these in a posting in alt.obituaries. And yes, I promise I will post about the busy weekend in Dover and East London. But for now, some light relief:

They're moving father's grave to build a sewer
They're moving it regardless of expense.
They're moving his remains
to lay down nine-inch drains
To irrigate some rich bloke's residence.
Now what's the use of having a religion?
If when you're dead you cannot get some peace
'Cause some society chap
wants a pipeline to his tank
And moves you from your place of rest and peace...
Now father in his life was not a quitter
And I'm sure that he'll not be a quitter now.
And in his winding sheet,
he will haunt that privy seat
And only let them go when he'll allow.
Now won't there be some bleedin' consternation,
And won't those city toffs begin to rave!
But it's no more than they deserve,
'cause they had the bleedin' nerve
To muck about a British workman's grave.

A meme I like

How many metro systems have you ridden? Here's my total. Thanks to gmjambear for the link.

Get it at b3co.com!
Update: Added "Shanghai" after our June trip.

My weekend part I: Dover

My friend Bill wrote me a letter (an actual snail mail letter!) to tell me he would be in town this week and next. We decided to have dinner last Thursday, and HWMBO and I went to Earls Court to join him. We went to Balans West, which we hadn't been to in ages. The food was just OK, the bill was decidedly elevated. But, the food aside, Bill asked me what would make a good day trip. I suggested Salisbury (you get two items in one: Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral) and Dover. He picked Dover, and asked whether I would join him. HWMBO needed to study during the weekend, so I decided to get out of his hair and take a day trip.

Dover is about 1-3/4 hours away, and I'm sure everyone's heard of The White Cliffs of Dover (thanks, Dame Vera Lynn and World War II). We were greeted on a very dull day by this seagull commuter.




So we started our climb up the hill. Dover Castle is on one of the most awesome hills you'll ever see. Not quite a mountain, but not a small hill, it towers over Dover. Here's Bill in front of the hill, with the castle at the top:



After climbing the hill, and establishing that, being a member of English Heritage, I could get in for free rather than pay £9.50, we entered the castle and started to look around. Here are some of the views from inside the walls:











We went into the castle; it's the best-preserved medieval castle in Britain. It still has many of the original wooden floors, as it was never taken by an enemy. There is even a cute little chapel inside, with space for about 8 people plus the celebrant and server. The hokey exhibits inside are best ignored, though. They have put lots of sound effects and non-original furnishings in there.

We climbed to the roof: although I wasn't going to (my heart, y'know) I ended up there by mistake, something like following P.T. Barnum's sign in his circus: "This Way to the Egress" and finding yourself outside. The views from there are spectacular.







We then took the tour of the underground tunnels in the white cliff. From Napoleonic times, tunnels for the defenders of the realm have been bored out of the soft chalk of the cliff. World War II saw a huge expansion of the number and size of the tunnels, and the Cold War an even bigger expansion. There are telephone exchanges, battle command centres, a full field hospital, and dormitories. When the government decided it didn't need the tunnels any more, it handed the keys over to English Heritage. There was nothing down there, and English Heritage have furnished, cleaned, and made safe many feet of tunnels. If you visit, you can tour some of them, and it's really interesting. The evacuation of Dunkirk at the beginning of World War II was coordinated from there. Unfortunately, one is not allowed to take pictures in the tunnels.

When we came out, we went to the NAAFI Restaurant (Navy, Army, and Airforce Institutes) for lunch. English Heritage used to have a lovely café in the Castle Keep, but they have made that into a sandwich shop and contracted out a space in the Administration Building just above the tunnel entrances for a restaurant. I had Beef and Ale Pie with roast vegetables and (ick!) Diet Pepsi. The pie and vegetables were good, anyway. We wandered around some more, and ended up at the Saxon church:



The Church dates from Saxon times (although it has been added to since) and the tower next to it is a Roman lighthouse, once used as a belfry. Normally you can go into the church as it's pretty lightly used. However, some son of the regiment was being married in it on Saturday so we didn't venture in, even though a sign welcomed us to enter in spite of the service.

A ruined church at the foot of the hill claimed our attention next,, after walking down the hill from the Castle and pronouncing the day so far very satisfactory. Two views from inside the ruins:





Bare ruined choirs indeed!

All during the day the rain turned on and off as though it were coming from some heavenly tap (= US "faucet"). We walked into town and took temporary refuge in a coffee shop on the main drag of Dover. Once we left to explore some of the rest of town, the heavens opened and buckets of water were flung horizontally at us. We hurried to the railway station, but were soaked. Bill, who was suffering from a slight cold, felt it quite keenly. I just hate to walk around in sodden trousers. We took the Charing Cross train in (just for a change) and I got off at London Bridge and made my sodden soaking way home. I needed to change clothing before we went to The Well for Chinese food with our former flatmate, spwebdesign, who was back with us for a day while his new accomodations were sorted out.

Next entry for the weekend: Part II: St. John's Hackney and the Lammas Picnic.

An update on Amorphophallus Titanum in Brooklyn

You may remember my post on this wonder of the world of flora. Well, like all politicians, the Borough President of Brooklyn is determined to ensure that his name is eternally linked with the Corpse Flower. I think that it's quite natural to link a politician with something that smells to high heaven and attracts numerous flies.

My weekend part II: Hackney

On Sunday I met my friend Rosemary in Hackney for Eucharist at St. John's Hackney and a picnic (not at the same time, mind you!).

I took a train from Liverpool Street Station, and then walked from Hackney Downs. I could have taken a bus from London Bridge, but wasn't sure where it went. Oh, well, I now have an unresolved trip on my Oystercard as I had no place to touch out at Hackney Downs. When I got to the church, as Rosemary is a bellringer, I went up the tower (which contains a ring of ten bells) and watched a peal for the first time. It is fascinating, especially if you've read Dorothy Sayers' The Nine Tailors. The ringers stand in a circle, and you sit in a corner hoping you won't be in the way. They begin, pulling the ropes down until a large purple plush sausage through which the rope passes (called a "sallie") is to their eye level. Then they begin: they pull the ropes, holding the end of the rope coiled in their left-hands while letting the sallie travel up to the ceiling to half-disappear into a hole in the ceiling, then catch the sallie again as it travels back down to the floor. It's fascinating! And then, to a mixture of horror and fascination, I realised that the entire tower was trembling and swaying, as I could feel it through the chair and the floor! The mathematical changes (thus "change ringing") produce a music that is quintessentially English and Anglican. Roman Catholics don't seem to go in for it. It also seems like good exercise. Wikipedia on change ringing is here and here.

I asked Rosemary afterwards, "Hypothetically, if one wanted to learn how to ring, how would one go about it? I have too many appetites I can't satisfy, but this is fascinating stuff." I should turn up Monday night at 7 pm if I want to learn. Oh dear. I didn't turn up tonight but who knows?

The service was not led by the Rector, who is on holiday preparatory to retirement; it was led by a woman priest, who unfortunately seems to have missed out on Homiletics classes. Her sermon began: "As the month of August begins with an 'A', I've decided to preach this month on themes beginning with 'A'. Today I'm going to preach about 'Accessibility'." It went downward from there, folks. I was mortified. Perhaps she should have preached about being a horse's Ass.

The congregation was sparse (it is August and many are away), and the church was quite gloomy, because due to a fire last January the electrical systems are mostly on the blink. The organ is now working, and there were a few lights in the sanctuary, but this church, which is a huge Georgian barn built in 1790 and seats 2,000 (including the gallery), was mostly grey in the gloom. The blank walls next to the altar window cried out for a mural or some imaginative artwork. But the congregation was very enthusiastic, and communion (as always) inspired me.

Afterwards we went to Rosemary's for a quick brunch and on to Lammas Fields in Waltham Forest near Leyton. These were ancient marshes that, after WW II, were filled in with rubble from bombed buildings and used as sports and grazing land. However, this article gives the current picture, detailing how winning the Olympics is going to ruin the landscape of East London. The picnic was being held by a local organisation which opposes using the fields in this way. Allotments are local common land, set aside for people to grow crops on. The fact that the land is full of rubble which could contain asbestos, heavy metals such as lead piping, and even radium paint from an instrument factory which was bombed close to the site doesn't seem to bother the council.

In any case, we were the first to arrive, and soon there was a merry band of activists, all of whom assumed I was an American tourist. But we did have fun, eating, drinking, and singing on the field while horses grazed neargy and young men played football across the road. A good time was had by all until the rains came, drenching those who couldn't fit under the tent. A wayward dog, who bit one of the revellers' fingers, and various walkers and runners, kept us amused. A rendition of the Lammas Fields Campaign Song by Rosemary was followed by a lusty "John Barleycorn Must Die" by another gentleman and several other tunes.

Thanks to Rosemary for hosting me and bringing me along to such a wonderful event. I may even turn up in the belfry someday.