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Tuesday, March 16th, 2010 09:19 pm
London part 2a: Saturday
(Part two is getting split into bits, because it was getting a TEENY bit long. I should probably try to write less but this is my journal and I LIKE pouring out millions of words. But I also like people to read things I write and I'm aware that most people don't want to open LJ only to be hit with a 400 page novel...)

Bones
Saturday brought a bright and early start. By 9am I had already reached Victoria, dropped my case off at left luggage, and was enjoying a leisurely breakfast before heading on to the Natural History Museum. I figured on getting these just as it opened - that way I wouldn't have any waiting around, but it wouldn't be too busy. After all, how many people would actually be up and wandering round museums at 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning?

Yes. That's right. Children. To whom 10am is the equivalent of three in the afternoon. Which never occurred to me until I jumped on the suspiciously above-ground tube and was instantly surrounded by 'Daddy we're going to see the dinosaurs aren't we daddy, we're going to see the dinosaurs I like dinosaurs we're going to see the dinosaurs aren't we Daddy, aren't we Daddy Daddy DADDY!!"

Now, to be fair, I prefer to measure my proximity to small children in miles, or, if possible, continents. So it's understandable that I'm not that aware of their daily habits. But not realising that a museum full of dinosaurs would be an instant child-magnet? Other child-free people would have worked that out. Small blue beings that live on Neptune would have worked that out. But not me.

Luckily, not many small children rate wildlife photography over dinosaurs, so I figured it was worth carrying on as planned to the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition. This was easier said than done, as first I had to negotiate the miles of pedestrian subways that connect the tube station with the museums. These were longer than most tube lines, full of confusing signs, multiple exits, and tightly packed with fast moving pedestrians. I only managed to make it out in one piece by making a suicidal dive straight across several streams of people, a manoeuvre that would have had me arrested if I'd tried it on a motorway. And even then it was a 15 minute queue to get into the Museum itself. (Note to self: never ever do ~anything~ on a Saturday ever again.)

The exhibition itself was worth fighting through crowds for, the pictures were absolutely breath-taking. Obviously the format helped: I always talked about phtographs as tiny jewelled worlds you could hold in your hands - blown up to several feet across and illuminated, they become more like doorways. And of course the technical skill was superb - split second timing, perfectly sharp focus, incredible angles. And nature in all its soaring, bloody, alien beauty is always going to be impressive. But what really set these photographghs apart was the originality: no cliched animal behaviour, no cheesy anthrpomorphism, no seen-it-in-every-Sunday-suplement-ever compositions. Every shot was a new discovery. Intrigue as well as beauty.

(The quality of the juniors section was also mind-blowing, especially given their ages, although some of the 'how I took this' stories were verging on unbelievable, especially the nine-year old Swedish girl who sat out in the frozen tundra for days waiting for the perfect shot. Then again all Scandinavians are crazy, so this is probably a perfectly normal form of childcare in Sweden.)

I had planned on taking a few hours to explore the rest of the museum, since I hadn't been there since I was very small. (In fact, back then, the dinosaur in the entrance hall was still dragging its tail along the floor.) But a change of plan was now clearly required. The blue whale was closed for cleaning, the queue for the dinosaurs stretched three times round the hall, I was surrounded on all sides by screaming munchkins and the cafe was packed. More to the point, I just couldn't get into the proper spirit. I generally have no problem with dead things, especially dead things in the name of science ('...in the name of science' being nearly as good a phrase to add to stuff as '...from the future!!!!!') But after the brightness, vigour and LIFE of the photography, the static, stuffed specimens were completely jarring. I said goodbye to Darwin and made for the escape tunnels.

I definitely need to get back to the NHM on a less child-frenzied day. I was reminded that the dinosaur bones aren't real dinosaur bones, they're replicas (due to real dinosaur bones being ridiculously rare and fragile). So I decided that if they can pretend that they're real dinosaur bones, then I can pretend that they're real dragon bones. In the name of science.
Tuesday, March 16th, 2010 09:48 pm (UTC)
I went to that exhibition last year, and yes it was very good, and particularly the young photographers section. I liked that there was a range of stuff - some of it had obviously been carefully prepared, and some was shot off-the-cuff. The subject matter was vast.

As for appending stuff to sentences, I favour "...but that's what they said about the kleptomaniac monkeys of DOOM!"
Tuesday, March 16th, 2010 10:21 pm (UTC)
I now want kelptomaniac monkeys of DOOM! (I'm easily swayed like that!)
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 09:21 am (UTC)
I'm really enjoying reading your London based exploits :-)
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 01:56 pm (UTC)
I'm so glad - I always worry when I write long things (And especially if I don't get any replies) that nobody is reading them. Which is silly - even though I read ~everything~ anyone on my friends list posts I rarely ever comment on them, so I don't know why I get so paranoid when it's my own. Apart from the fact that it's my own, I suppose...
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 10:28 am (UTC)
"especially the nine-year old Swedish girl who sat out in the frozen tundra for days waiting for the perfect shot. "

Mind you, in some bits of Sweden it might have been her back garden..
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 02:05 pm (UTC)
Maybe, although in my mind every Swede has a hot-tub in their back yard so they can jump out of it go running through the snow in the nude... I may have some slightly lopsided views of Sweden!
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 12:38 pm (UTC)
Don't tell anyone about the Swedish girl - the "child care professionals" will want her parents dragged of to jail and her put in a home where she can learn to steal cars, instead of doing anything creative.

Seriously - any parent who allowed their child to have the life and freedom I had as a kid would these days get arrested.

I prefer to measure my proximity to small children in miles, or, if possible, continents

Snap! Though TBH, I'd not thought that the NHM at 10am would be a sprogfrenzy either. Clearly we both have a lot to learn from the small blue beings on Neptune.

Please keep posting the long updates though - that's what makes LJ worth reading, and so much better than "I'm eating a biscuit (2465476264 people Like this!)" of Facebook.

NHM full of dragon bones? Cool! Though if they have any eggs, have they seen that movie from a few years back, about the fire-breathing dragon they found in the Underground? :-)

Btw, speaking of ancient history, some time about the time of the first Crusade, ISTR I sent you a story - did you ever get round to reading it? Still interested in what you thought.
Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 02:04 pm (UTC)
It's generally not the child care professionals - I used to work with plenty of those and they used to be very vocal about the needs for children to play unsupervised, and experience danger and risk and - above all - have fun. The restrictions usually comes from the administrative level, because it would invalidate their insurance if they did anything anyone could possibly consider a risk. And they need that insurance because if anything goes the slightest bit wrong, modern parents can - and always will - sue the school/nursery/club/etc.

Ironically, it's the same parents (usually backed by the same chorus of newspapers) that complain bitterly that 'They won't even let my kid play conkers!' that will turn round and sue the minute their little angel falls over the playground ('Where were the bloody teachers, eh? Sitting on their arses drinking tea!')

As for the story, yes, I believe you did! Trouble is when I get things in a busy period they tend to slip down the inbox and vanish - I'll look and see if I can unearth it and actually read it this time :-)