London autumn

Fall has always been my favorite season. Cool, crisp days. Red and yellow leaves. Apple pie. I feel melancholy in Fall–an end is near–but for some reason I like that.

This Fall hasn’t much happened in Chicago. It’s been warm, sunny and while some leaves have dropped, they’ve mostly just dropped brown. While I hoped that was an anomaly, it seems Fall is delayed in London as well. Not much going on in the Fall leaves department although I can confirm that the days are cool. Wet and rainy as well. Not that that is necessarily a Fall thing. It’s kind of a London thing.

Hotels were in short supply for this trip and we ended up getting one in the Kensington area. My husband has never loved that area. In his mind, there are more interesting neighborhoods. After staying there once many years ago, we’ve never been back. A very nice thing about Kensington is that it’s closer to Heathrow than some of the other places we’ve stayed so a very quick trip in and out. It’s on the Piccadilly tube line so you can go straight to The Emirates without the crazy switch at Kings Cross St. Pancras where hundreds of Arsenal supporters are stacked up trying to change trains. It’s also kind of quiet and relaxing. There are many restaurant options without the hustle and bustle. In short, perhaps worthy of reconsideration for hotel selection.

Anyway, we found ourselves back in London on Monday for a Tuesday match. Our flight arrived after noon on and a driving rain was visible out the windows at Heathrow.

A big advantage of the hotel we chose this time, The Bailey’s, is that it’s across the street from the Gloucester Road tube station. I really appreciated not being out in that rain for more than a street crossing, even with my knee-length rain coat. It’s also kind of a quintessential charming, old London hotel. Small, pretty rooms with character. This hilarious stuffed cat decor in the lobby.

We got settled in our room and went out to get lunch at the Hereford Arms. We’ve been to this pub before. It’s always good. And, for my husband, they have the London Pride beer he enjoys. I enjoyed one, too, this time.

After that we went to Banksy Limitless, an exhibit of Banksy art and history. I enjoy street art and Banksy is interesting given his anonymity–for a famous guy. He is also quite prolific. This exhibit, clearly put together by Banksy or with his blessing, includes a timeline of his art and themes and images of the art he’s created over the years. In most cases, reproductions of the art. In reality, a lot of his art has been covered over across time. He uses stencils that he’s created so it’s possible to do a reasonable reproduction.

It’s unusual to view art at the same time as seeing the artist’s narrative interpretation of what he wanted to communicate. In most cases we view art long after the artist has passed. My husband observed that he likes to decide for himself what the art is about and found it distracting to always be told in this exhibit the artist’s meaning. I suspect the interpretation was necessary because the art is itself commentary on some recent occurrence or social norm. Does the art have meaning if you don’t know to what it refers? In that respect, I guess Banksy’s form of art is like comedy. It’s funny in the moment but does every moment have long-term significance such that it would be funny a few years later when you’ve forgotten what inspired it? And maybe in that sense, when we don’t yet know until much later if the moments were significant, we can’t yet tell if the art is significant. On the other hand, maybe we don’t have to care. Meaning in the moment can also be art.

My favorite exhibit was the film in which they captured the moment Banksy’s picture of the girl with a ballon was sold in auction. As soon as it was announced sold, a shredder built inside the frame activated and the picture was partially destroyed. The people in the auction looked sickened. (I saw some reporting that the buyer was offered to be allowed to void the sale but did not. Later, it was even more valuable after it was destroyed.)

Although one of Banksy’s themes is the peril of commercialism, Banksy himself did not fail to capitalize on this exhibit. In addition to the entrance fee, the final step of the exhibit was a big gift shop. Although we participated in the entrance fee we did not buy the t-shirts or mugs.

We are very slow learners because after a flight in which I barely slept we decided to attend a lecture on how chemistry is used in forensic science at the Royal Institution. The speaker, Kingston Associate Professor Baljit Thatti, brought in a full auditorium and she must have been amazing, because the presentation was followed by one of the most energetic question and answer sessions I’ve ever witnessed. But I can tell you very little about her obviously excellent presentation. It was a good amuse-bouche for a great night of sleep back at The Bailey’s.

In the morning, we took an hour-long bus ride to Richmond Park. Before coming to London I had googled all the events in London and what kept coming up instead of events was ways to enjoy Autumn in London. Richmond Park is part of the Royal Parks and was highly recommended as a way to take in Fall colors.

It’s possible to rent bikes and ride the 7-mile loop around the park but unfortunately bike rental is only on weekends this time of year. Instead we made our way across a huge, golden meadow on a grass path on our way to a garden called Isabella Plantation. As we walked we could see grazing animals in the distance that almost appeared to be sheep. Upon closer inspection, they were the famous wild red deer herd that had been introduced in the park by King Charles I in the 1600s.

As we were walking toward the red deer in the field to get a closer look we happened upon a much larger deer laying in the field, one of the fallow deer. We almost didn’t spot the huge buck in vegetation very close to our path.

Leaving the meadow and heading into the forest, the birds were unbelievably loud. I use an app called Merlin to identify bird calls I don’t know. Admittedly “calls I don’t know” is almost all bird calls. The app is produced by Cornell Lab of Ornithology in NY. It can be a bit spotty about identifying birds in England, but on this day it detected Eurasian Jackdaws and Rose-ringed Parakeets.

We got lost several times but ultimately found Isabella Plantation, a lovely, lush garden.

Even without colorful fall leaves, Richmond Park was, as the internet promised us, a great way to experience the beauty of Fall in London.

We took a bus into Fulham, had a nice, late lunch at an Italian pizza chain, took the train back to Central London to work out logistics for travels the next day, pre-gamed at the Admiralty, and then headed off to The Emirates for the Champion’s League match against Atletico Madrid. Despite a lovely, calm day in nature I felt very, very nervous.

I’m not a robot

At the time we flew to London, both my husband and I had tickets for the Nottingham Forest game but only I had tickets for the Man City game. That remained true across thousands of clicks on the Arsenal web site. Each time I logged in to try to get a ticket, I had to affirm that I was not a robot. Sometimes I had to prove it by reviewing photos and click on all the ones, for example, that contain street lights. And sometimes even though I seemingly passed all the anti-robot tests put in front of me, I could still take repetitive action on the ticket exchange that made the exchange believe I might have fibbed about being a robot. Then you get the white screen of death and have to start over. Fortunately, I finally found my husband a ticket the very day before the match.

That was the day we travelled back to London from Norwich also. Tracks from Ipswich to Colchester were under maintenance so we had to take a bus for that leg of the trip. It was well organized by the train service and it occurred with very little drama. As we walked from Liverpool Street Station to check into our hotel, The Clayton Hotel London Wall, we crossed through the very pretty Finsbury Circus Gardens. Upon reaching the hotel, my husband was ready to relax. I was feeling inspired by the garden so I set out to find the St. Dunstan in the East Garden. This is a garden associated with a church. It looked lovely and peaceful, except on the day I visited there was a large contingent of goth-dressed women and photographers doing a photo shoot. I took advantage of the poses for my own photos.

Sometimes I recognize what a shame it’s been that we’ve visited so many hotels in London but not really used the opportunity to rank hotels. It happens that we had previously visited the Clayton Hotel London Wall in the past, but I had forgotten what a good option this is. The rooms are spacious, there is tons of storage, and the bathroom is nice. The mattress was like a concrete slab. I happen to be a fan of the concrete slab mattress. This may seem like a weird thing, but the bathroom has an enclosed shower with a ledge that prevents water from entering the rest of the bathroom. You’d be surprised how many do not. The only downside of this hotel is that it’s located in the business district so a lot of restaurants and pubs nearby are closed on the weekend.

We booked a play to attend that night, The Full English at Baron’s Court Theatre. This was a one-woman show by a linguist, poet, and actor Melanie Blanton, literally about the English language and how it developed across time as England both was impacted by migrating, and sometimes invading, forces as well as England’s own experience colonizing other countries. The Baron’s Court Theatre is a tiny space in the basement of a pub called Curtains Up. Before the play people gathered in the pub and then brought their drinks into the space and during intermission, they repeated. The theatre was so tiny that it was in my mind that it would be really bad to sleep in this play because the actor would for sure be able to see that. I was at my alert best. Perhaps because I’d for once had time to acclimate to the time change having been in England for a week. Two older ladies in the first row did not get the same memo. They both slept through a lot of the play. Then again, they availed themselves of several pints. In a warm, dark space we all know what that can lead to for us aged folk.

What I just said might sound like not a ringing endorsement of the play, but I actually loved it. It was entertaining and I learned a lot. I feel like this whole trip reinforced for me how England developed. We’ve spent time in London in the past looking into the Roman invasion, but this trip (including this play) gave insight into the migration of Anglo-Saxons as well as invasions by Vikings and Normans.

The match was the next day, Sunday. Unfortunately, that morning my husband tweaked his back and really could not walk or sit without a lot of pain. He’s had this problem before so he always travels with muscle relaxants which helps get through the night or a long flight in Basic Economy. However, those aren’t good for getting through a day or a soccer match so we invested a bit of time trying to find an electric heating pad or something to help loosen things up. We were successful in locating a disposable heating belt that you can affix under your clothing and that heats for 12 hours. A great solution for our day and for the plane trip back on Monday and it seemed to help quite a bit.

We didn’t want to overdo it so we decided to keep it simple that morning by only visiting one exhibit at the British Museum, the one displaying the treasures found at Sutton Hoo. As you may recall, once it was established that Edith Pretty had full rights to the artifacts found on her property, she donated all of them to the British Museum. One of the most interesting objects was the helmet found–crushed, where the burial compartment of the Anglo-Saxon ship in one of the mounds had collapsed. The British museum made two efforts to put the pieces together, one that they felt good about. The actual reconstructed helmet is displayed, as is a replica of what it may have looked like originally. The display also includes coins, dishes, and other objects of Anglo-Saxon life. Fascinating exhibit and a perfect follow-up to our visit at Sutton Hoo. The British Museum, like many other attractions in London, is free to visit but so expansive it’s really nice to be able to feel like you can just see what you want to see on the day without feeling guilty about wasting admission.

After lunch we travelled over to the Emirates for the match. It took more time than usual to get into the stadium, at least where I was seated in the North Bank. I was lucky to be in my seat as the teams were coming out on the field. You’ve heard me speaking about how much I love singing and being in the stadium as “North London Forever” is being played, but there is a song played at every Arsenal match that I despise. It’s called Good old Arsenal. It’s played both before the first half and the second half. It sounds like it was invented in the 1940s, but my quick google just now tells me it first made its appearance at the stadium in 1971.

Good old Arsenal

We’re proud to say that name

While we sing this song

We’ll win the game

They usually get through it 2 times before the rest of the pomp happens. I was in my seat for it and it annoyed me, like always. I do sing it because while we sing this song we win the game. How can I decline? I’m a model fan. Note: it does not always produce the results it claims.

With Martin Odegaard still injured, Mikel Arteta started exactly the same midfield he had selected for the mid-week Champions League match. He made one change in the forward line, replacing Eze with Leandro Trossard. This was maybe a bit surprising considering the opposition. Kind of a very secure but not very adventuresome lineup. William Saliba was restored to his normal center half position after an ankle injury having not played much since then. He seemed a bit rusty.

If you consider the totality of the match, we were mostly successful at being secure. But there was this one insecure moment pretty early in the first half where there was a turnover on a mistake and Man City’s excellent striker, Erling Haaland, got forward on a breakaway where Man City had three players on two Arsenal players. Haaland didn’t have the ball early in the breakaway but he was clearly the one you didn’t want to see the ball come to. We didn’t have him covered well and he did get the ball. He had no problem placing it in the Arsenal goal beyond David Raya.

All through the match Man City was pretty much bunkered in and we were unable to find a way through. Although I understood after the match everyone watching seemed to find it boring, I thought it was a fascinating match. Kind of like watching chess. I know not everyone likes watching chess when they came to watch football. But obviously frustrating, going at them again and again and never finding a way through.

After halftime, the Arsenal team came out to the the sound of “Good Old Arsenal,” like always. But this time, Man City didn’t come out for ages. It played 6 or 7 times. I enjoyed it less than usual which, as I mentioned, is not at all.

Mikel Arteta made increasingly creative substitutions across the second half and we did start to make headway in penetrating the Man City defense, which by now was just a big, old bus parked in front of the goal. He even removed a defender to put on an attacker, Gabriel Martinelli.

Everyone refers to the players who start the match as “starters.” Lately, Arteta has notably been referring to players who are substituted on as “finishers.” I don’t know where this started but I do know this is terminology that Sarina Wiegman, the winning manager for women’s Euros, used to describe her very accomplished substitutes. One of whom was Chloe Kelly, the Arsenal player who visibly improved the England team in many matches and scored the deciding penalty kick in the final. In my opinion, language matters and I think this is a good development for Arteta’s players. All of the players are good enough to start, but not all of them can be selected. Instead, Arteta needs to be able to use them to change the course of the match. And they are just as important to the match in their different role.

While Arteta was replacing defenders with attackers, Man City’s manager was replacing attackers with defenders. Even Erland Haaland was removed. (The manager said afterward he did this because Haaland said he was tired.) Both managers wanted points from this match but Man City’s manager was definitely working from the preferred position.

It seemed like the match was going to end a Man City win as we entered injury time. But never say never. Eberechi Eze, who ultimately found himself playing, managed to slip a ball over the Man City defenders to a breaking Martinelli, who managed to evade them as the goalkeeper rushed out toward him. The lightest loft of the ball with the edge of his foot and the ball was floating into the air over the keeper and against the far netting. Then a roll into the back of the net to the excitement of an entire stadium. A finisher’s finish. Until it hit the back of the net from my seat–closer to where the ball was lofted and farther from where it nestled into the netting–I was not sure it was in.

With the few minutes remaining, we continued to try to score and Man City made more offensive progress than it had tried in a while. In the end, a 1-1 tie was all we could get done.

Sometimes a late tie like that feels like a win but in this case, well, even though I was really happy the goal happened, it mostly felt like a tie. And you know the stadium DJ was feeling it, too because he played another song I’ve come to really hate at the Emirates, the song he usually plays for a tie (and I think maybe also for a loss): Tears for Fears’ Everybody Wants to Rule the World. Maybe I once liked it, but now I’ve been conditioned. It’s like a song you associate from your youth with the summer some boyfriend broke up with you. Bah. Dislike.

Better luck next time? We shall see.

After the match, Mikel; Arteta took a shellacking in the press conference and in commentary for the week for the starting line-up he used which, again, was the same forward and midfield line as in the Champions League win on Tuesday. “Why are you keeping the handbrake on?” I’ve already seen an “Arteta Out” message on social media. A writer on Football 365, which lately has been on a clickbait tear, likened Arteta to Donald Trump. Admittedly the writer is English so he may not have the clearest picture of Donald Trump’s traits, but I can assure anyone that whatever you might dislike in Trump and whatever you might dislike in Arteta, these are NOT the same traits.

Such is the state of his life. No matter what Arteta does, it’s used as a stick to beat him with. This is a great, young manager in his first head coaching role. He has a large, excellent, diverse team with 8 new players to incorporate, and figuring that out takes time. Which members of the team work together well under the varying conditions you can expect or that unexpectedly are in place?

A 1-1 tie against Man City nearing the end one of the most difficult early schedules in the Premier League while we’re sorting that out? Whatever Mikel does at this time, I’m with him. While Social Media and football commentators try their best to get me riled with media’s proven strategies to rile, I am capable of resisting.

Because, remember, as I have sworn so many times to the Arsenal web site, I’m not a robot.

All the single ladies

I’ve found that when I travel I’m drawn to certain themes and narratives. When I was working in software the themes were often around how projects came about. In software, a big project is usually completed through a series of smaller projects that can involve multiple teams and stages toward the desired end. How that comes about can be quite complicated and is part of why I found my job interesting.

So while traveling and touring I’m drawn to the project aspect of anything. Last week, I was at the Gustave Caillebotte exhibit at the Art Institute of Chicago and especially enjoyed looking at the methodology for completing his projects, how his trial sketches were a key part of the process of producing the final painting. I remember touring the iconic Sydney Opera house years ago and learning that the design for the Opera house was based on an artist’s rendering. After it won a competition, architects had to figure out how to build it somehow. It was a project in which there was a tremendous amount of trial and error toward producing the artist’s vision. Kind of the original Agile project. In this trip around East Anglia, one of my favorite parts of the audio tour for the Ely Cathedral was a representation of the stages of building across close to a thousand years. Every hundred years or so a big project would happen. What made me laugh when reviewing the time lapse representation of the build timeline was the times they would add something in one century that in the next century they would remove. Human nature. One man’s innovation is another man’s mistake.

In this trip, one of the themes that was present in my mind was the impact of women across East Anglia. Don’t get me wrong: history always includes the stories of men, and in our touring of cathedrals and museums there were plenty of male historical figures of note. But the history of East Anglia introduced me to several interesting and notable female figures.

The first one was Etheldredra, important in Ely. Ultimately, she became the founder and abbess for a monastery in Ely in the 7th century, the land on which The Ely Cathedral was later built. But before that she was a king’s daughter and was married off to an elderly king. The audio guide at the cathedral tells us that her husband died before they could consummate the marriage. It says she married a second time, different king, and was released from that marriage since she was still a virgin.

A lot to take in and it made me curious. For one, when I heard about the first marriage in the audio guide, I had the impression that the first husband must have died quickly after the marriage. But other sources indicated they were married for several years. Some sources claim that the deal that was made prior to both marriages–which had been political in nature–that she would be permitted to remain a virgin.

Apparently her second husband came to regret that deal many years in, which led to the marriage being dissolved.

To doubly prove that she really, really was a virgin at the end of that marriage, the audio guide tells a story of her walking stick sprouting leaves overnight.

Interesting that it was an acceptable deal in both marriages that she would remain a virgin when the marriage was presumably for political reasons. The tale of Henry VIII communicates that producing an heir–about 900 years later–is a very big expectation for a royal wife. A lot must have changed in the ensuing years.

Anyway, by today’s standards, kind of a weird origin story for a woman who ended up doing something very, very important when she was allowed to stop getting married off and fulfil her longtime dream of starting an abbey. As an abbess she was highly influential and successful, both in life and after her death, after which she was officially sainted.

The buildings Etheldreda was part of building were destroyed and rebuilt in subsequent centuries. The Ely Cathedral was built on the land starting about 300 years after Etheldreda died. Coincidentally, the monastery at Ely–by then a Benedictine monastery–was closed down by Henry VIII himself.

Another woman we became re-acquainted with in Norwich was the mystic and theologian referred to as Julian of Norwich. We had encountered some of her writings when we visited the British Library exhibit Medieval Women: In Their Own Words a few months ago. In the 14th century, Julian wrote the first English language book known to have been written by a woman. Very little is known about Julian, including whether Julian is even her name. She was an anchoress–a religious devotee who lives in a cell–in St. Julian’s church, and her understood name may have come from the church itself. She was inspired to write two versions of a book titled Revelations of Divine Love following an illness in which she was close to death and experienced visions relating to Christ’s death. The first version was written shortly after she recovered from the illness and the second one, much longer, after many years of intellectual and spiritual exploration. Her manuscripts were preserved for 200 years before being published. Although she claims in her writings to be uneducated, her work continues to inspire theologians even in our time. Famously, she posited that God is much like a mother. Our guide at the Norwich Cathedral quoted some famous words of the book that she found comfort in: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” Julian is commemorated in stained glass in the Norwich Cathedral we visited. Note in the picture the woman on the right pane carrying a book.

Photo from Norwich Cathedral web page

Moving on many years, we quasi-encountered Edith Cavell who was born at the end of the 19th century. As we were walking for the first time from the Norwich train station to The Maids Head I saw a pub named The Edith Cavell. Then once we checked in to The Maid’s Head, on the way to our room, there was a meeting room labeled The Edith Cavell Room. I asked myself “who is this Edith Cavell?” She sounded familiar but I couldn’t remember why. It turns out she was the daughter of Norwich-area clergy and had an increasingly interesting nursing career that presumably started either because experienced a failed romantic relation OR because she helped her father through a serious illness. Or both. Her nursing took her into teaching and administration and allowed extended travel in Europe. She was notable as a nurse in the first World War for treating war wounded from both sides but ended up running afoul of the Germans for aiding the escape of more than 200 soldiers from Belgium. She admitted her “guilt” and was executed at age 49 by a German firing squad. She showed virtually no fear leading up to her death, glad to die for her country and with her soul at peace. Her body is buried outside the Norwich Cathedral.

And finally, we encountered Edith Pretty, the woman responsible for sharing the Anglo-Saxon treasure of Sutton Hoo with the world in the mid 20th century. Born into a wealthy family, she became deeply interested in archeology and, with her husband, purchased the Sutton Hoo property on which the burial mounds were located. (Interesting side note: before her marriage she, too, was a nurse and served in Belgium in the first World War.) Although many people believed the mounds had already been robbed, as indeed they had been, she was convinced that they contained additional treasure. After her husband passed away, she hired a local excavator, Basil Brown, to explore the site further. He is often credited with the find, as he should be, but the excavation occurred only because she was willing to invest toward the work. She waited patiently for the coroner inquest that would rule on who had rights to the treasures, rejected rewards from the crown for gifting the property, and as soon as it was clear it was hers to dispose of as she wished, she donated all artifacts to the British Museum to add to our understanding of the Anglo-Saxon culture and be enjoyed by everyone. Like our other women, Edith Pretty was a Boss.

It occurred to me that every one of these women became known for what she did when she was single, regardless of how she came to be that way. Perhaps being single contributed to their being able to pursue a deep-seated interest given the times in which they lived. You have to admit we are looking at a very long period, more than 1000 years, in which it seems true that it has been quite difficult for a married woman to pursue the kind of work that speaks to them as a person, unless that work happens to be taking care of family. (I do note that some of these “jobs”–like being in a monastery–just require being single.)

To be clear, we know about these women because they became famous. In my mind, fame is not the object for most of us. The object is being able to do work that interests one greatly.

And as much as I note that women have made progress since Edith Pretty’s death in the 1940s, it seems there are still forces that hold us back. In fact, forces that existed in the past that were briefly weakened seem lately to be coming to greater strength.

Ominously, women leaving the workforce at high rates. Although unexplained, some factors believed to be involved include rapidly increasing cost of child care and the newly growing wage gap between men and women workers. Removal of women from government positions under a new regime, where the claim is that they are insufficiently qualified. And my social media feeds over the summer included a video in which a well-known male operative, leading seminars for young women, encouraged them not to work or attend college. Or if they attended college not too work hard at it. Ok to pursue “an MRS degree,” where you are only attending college to meet eligible bachelors. Indeed, ready yourself for a life of servitude where you take care of family and be subservient to your husband, the boss of your family. Sorry for the bad luck of the accident of your gender.

As a recent retiree from a job I loved I’m so thankful for the period in time in which it’s been possible as a woman to pursue interesting work. My fervent hope for all women is that one is not required to be single or childless to be able to freely choose and grow in an occupation. That women be judged on their objective merits instead of assumptions about people of your gender. That when partnered, their partners support their self-actualization, just as they support the same in their partners.

I bet all the single ladies of East Anglia agree.