UK 2012 ISSUE 5

Perhaps, this time I can stay away from the topic of food, no promises though.  However, an observation on the "standard of dress" and manners, may not go amiss.  Just had a 30'ish man come to the door to sell us something.  In typical American fashion, I said, quite politely, "we're not interested" and firmly closed the door.  This behaviour is quite incomprehensible to my father-in-law, in fact I am quite sure in his estimation it borders on rude.  However, my being an American explains my lack of civility and excuses me from multiple sins.  He, and others of his generation and younger listen politely, say no, listen some more while continuing to say they are not interested.  They would not consider interrupting the sales pitch or otherwise terminating the conversation.  This can go on for minutes on end, and those at the door or on the phone, being well trained as salespeople continue to press their case.  Seems to me it is in everyone's best interest to get to the bottom line as quickly as possible and carry on with whatever else is of importance.  Just saying . . .  

I have noticed that the sales people who come door to door are generally men and not the young t-shirt clad, desperate for a job, paying there way to school, folk which I am accustomed to seeing, Mormons excepted.  They are most often in their 30's, male and always formally dressed.  By formal I mean shirt and tie (and when was the last time you saw that), and as often as not a suit.  But at the very least they will be wearing a sport jacket.  Do I need to mention they are also wearing a top coat or rain coat (can't count on the weather this Spring despite the contention that there is a drought), but not what you might call a slicker.  Once again it is generally fairly formal sort of thing, British Spy trench coat or perhaps the little old man who flashes you sort of coat.  There may be dress down Fridays here but business attire is the norm, not the exception. I have seen more women wearing skirts than I have since the 80s in SF.  You rarely see pant suits, sorry Hilary and although there are a lot more sneakers than I previously remember, mostly you see real shoes.  There are boots for days, above the knee and at the ankle, slouchy baggy boots and tight fitting sexy boots.  Uggs are big but so are things that look like riding boots, and of course there are wellies!  We're not talking just women here either, men seem to like their shoes and boots as well.  As always, men's shoes seem to be mostly Italian.  There are lots of pointy things that Mick refers to as "winkle pickers", winkles being a form of little black sea snails, so you can take it from there.  That's not to say that they all look real "spiffy" there are a fair number of shiny asses in those suits, but I can say for certain I have not seen a bowler hat which was not that uncommon in the 70s.  Perhaps London will change that . . . or then again maybe not. 

We're just back from a couple of days in Lincoln, another fair size city north and east of here.  We booked in to a B&B that was probably a ten minute walk from the old city centre.  Our immediate impression was not all that positive, it is in a area that is in transition but in the end the landlord made it a totally enjoyable stay.   It was on a street of what I will refer to as "row houses", where they all share a common wall with their neighbours on either side.  They were obviously built by the same builder some time in the late 1800's but each house has it's own unique touches.  They are all one room wide with an entry that opens on to the stairs going up to the second and third levels.  Each of the rooms has a door,  so on one side there is the staircase then a hall with doors in to each of the rooms on the other side.  Some have arched entry ways over the front porch others have wooden gables over the doorstep.  The decorative trim on windows and eaves can very from house to house and yet they are all attached.  Some have house names "the willows" carved in to the brick work, the size of the windows may differ.  Some have been stuccoed and others are just red brick.  The window surround on one may be black and next door it is red or green, even the exterior colour changes down the centre of the building.  They each have a postage stamp sized front garden much like the houses out in the avenues in San Francisco.  Some have stone fences, other just shrubbery, there were iron gates and picket fences and brick walls, in other words, a crazy quilt of all kinds of possibilities.  

Corner Store

The house we were staying in had been purchased from what the current owner described as a little old lady who ran out of money trying to do restoration/refurbishment of the property.  Her intent had always been to create a bed and breakfast but she did have some over the top design ideas.  There were the typical rosettes surrounding the ceiling fixtures in the breakfast room but the chandelier was a very modern chrome and dangly crystal thing. The chair rail was a plaster frieze that was wonderful but the fireplace was an ugly brown something with the place for the fire blocked up.  One corner to the right of the not fireplace had a place about two thirds of the way up the wall a small alcove where someone had installed lighting to showcase a display or flower arrangement.  While the other side had a elaborate plaster panel with an arrangement of fruit.  Naturally enough over the fireplace hung a black and white print of Lincoln Cathedral. 

Tea Things

James provided us with a parking permit and we grabbed our bags to take up stairs to our room.  We were in room four, up a flight and a half of stairs.  Half way up their was another plaster panel of some cherubs frolicking as only cherubs can frolic.  I told you the original owner was somewhat eccentric.  The room was bright and airy, a radiator ran along one wall, at least meant we had control of our fate when it came to the temperature of the room.  Just like any good American motel we had a flat screen TV, a radio and little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash and a plastic hair cap, what more could you ask.  What more you say, well if you are British there is a requirement that you be able to make a cuppa (as in a cup of tea) and that too had been dealt with.   Real cups and saucers, no Styrofoam, real teaspoons, not plastic stir sticks, milk, sugar, hot chocolate, instant coffee, tea bags and the great English invention, an electric kettle.  Electric kettles are a tremendous boon to British society, they have one purpose and one purpose only, to boil water.  No matter whose home you might enter, no matter what time of the day or night you will always be offered a cup of tea.  The kettle is used multiple times a day and does its job admirably.  How primitive our paltry little kettle, set on a burner on the stove, seem in contrast to these stylish wonders.  I said earlier no food, but just to finish off, there were even two packets of biscuits (packages of cookies) which were replenished daily. 




The bathroom had plenty of big fluffy towels and I took a fancy to the mat in the bottom of the tub.  You know those horrible rubber things with the suction cups you typically find to prevent slips in the shower . . . well this one had small little suction cups all the way around the edge, made me think of an octopus and when you pulled it up to move it there was a snap, snap, snap sound.  Just in case you are concerned that I would become so enamoured of  small suctions cups that was not what got my attention.  What I really appreciated was that the top surface was terry towelling and it felt absolutely delightful under foot.  I shall have to keep my eyes open in the shops, perhaps I can find one to bring home.  

Having ensconced ourselves in our room we donned raincoats to brave the weather.  A fifteen minute uphill stroll brought us to The Collection Art & Archaeology Museum.    It is housed in a modern building set among many older dwellings but at least it didn't scream look at me.  Surprise of surprises it was free, as was the other museum we explored, the Lincolshire Life Museum.   They had a delightful travelling exhibit, The Radev Collection Bloomsbury and Beyond, of painting collected by Eddy Sackville-West and Eardley Knollys.  The docent, a round little man with a bald head cheerfully showed us around, expounding on the those instrumental in collecting these pictures and generally making our visit informative as well as entertaining.  


Lincoln Cathedral is at the top of a hill that dominates the landscape.  This is no minor hill, it is a very steep hill, as everyone we spoke to about the place warned us.  Having had sufficient art education for the moment we made our way, by a circuitous fashion, to the top of the hill and the visitor information centre.  We purchased three day passes to the Castle, Cathedral and Bishops Palace.  

First off the castle, something has been here since Roman times and the walls date from 1066 or there abouts (I think).  We walked the wall, which is where the picture of the cathedral was taken.  You get a really magnificent view I am told, however given that once we reached the walkway it began to pour with rain you couldn't prove it by me.  We made our escape to the coffee shop for a spot of tea to wait out the down pour.  That proved unsuccessful so we toured the Victorian era prison and made our escape.  


Dad's computer just crashed and I seem unable to restore it, so have lost all my photos.  Think perhaps the hard drive is toast.  It becomes difficult to tell the story without images.  Just realised you didn't even get a picture of the cathedral, it's pretty amazing.  Try "googling" it.  My momentum seems to have evaporated so will call it quits for now.  Maybe there will be another trip to spark some enthusiasm.  More than that we now have to share a computer, awkward!