Fulham

I took another marathon walk yesterday, an 8-mile trek through Kensington to Fulham Palace on the Thames, historically the home of the Bishop of London. That wasn't my destination when I started out -- it's just where I ended up.

As usual, I took lots of photos, like the one above of a used furniture store on North End Road. I found yet another street market in that area, with vegetables and all sorts of other items for sale. London has a surprising number of outdoor markets, especially given the season! What with going to Borough Market twice last week, Portobello Road on Wednesday and now this one, I think I'm marketed out.


I found lots of interesting storefronts, like this unforgettable gem, as well as both "USA Nails" and "American Top Nails and Tan." Interesting how Americans are so readily associated with nail and tanning salons.

I wandered along Lillie Road, where there is a pub named after the actress Lillie Langtry. Despite exhaustive Googling, I can't find any information on the source of the name of the road, so I'm not sure whether it's named for Langtry or predates her. That's the first question in a really long time that I've been utterly unable to answer using the Internet.


I briefly visited Fulham Palace, just long enough to get a sense of the place and have a coffee and some apple cake in the cafe. (By this time it was past noon, and I hadn't brought any lunch with me!) I then hoofed it back via Hammersmith and Shepherd's Bush, and got home about 3 p.m. A nice day out!

Mother Tongue

The book I'm reading now, "Mother Tongue" by Bill Bryson, is all about the evolution of the English language. It's an interesting read. Bryson tracks the roots of English, the origins of certain interesting words, the reasons American spelling is different from British spelling, the sources of our grammar and sentence structure, and other subjects.

For example, the term "O.K." I've long had a vague idea that it came from the military, and relatively recently. But Bryson said its earliest usage in print was March 1839, in a Boston newspaper. Apparently some young people at the time thought it funny to use "intentional illiteracies," and O.K. may stand for "Oll Korrect." I had no idea.

He also makes the point that some of our rules of grammar really make no sense. For example, we have rules against split infinitives, and against ending a sentence with a preposition. Apparently these are rather groundless prohibitions that serve no useful function. We prohibit split infinitives because they are prohibited in Latin, and an early grammarian simply thought ending sentences with a preposition sounded bad.

I've never really stopped to think about our rules for usage, grammar and spelling -- I've merely adopted them, as most of us do. I've long been aware that English is a growing, changing language, but who knew it was so arbitrary?


Dave and I went to see "Shame" yesterday. It's a powerful movie, and an interesting examination of the excesses of misplaced desire, but I can't say I loved it. It's almost painfully slow in places -- and this is coming from someone who normally likes slow, cerebral movies.

Otherwise, we had a very quiet weekend. We've spent a lot of money over the past few weeks -- a new rug for the living room, numerous restaurant meals and movies, my photography classes, airplane tickets for Amsterdam and my visit to Florida late next month. It's time to pare back for a while!

(Photos: Top, an Instagram image of some sidewalk scaffolding near our flat. Bottom, the same scene taken with my camera a few minutes later, after the red car had parked.)

Film

When Liz, Sally and I went to the Tate Modern on Thursday, we watched an exhibited film by the British artist Tacita Dean in the museum's vast Turbine Hall. The film, simply called "Film" -- how's that for minimalism? -- feels, according to the museum, "like a surreal visual poem, including images from the natural world among others."

It's silent and includes black & white, color and hand-tinted images that have been cut and manipulated. It was interesting to watch, and seemed to me a melange of both the natural and industrial -- leaves, girders, volcanic cones, windows. I couldn't begin to say what it's supposed to "mean," though.

The film is projected onto a white monolith at the end of the Turbine Hall that's supposed to recall the monolith in "2001: A Space Odyssey," according to the museum website.

Seating was available many yards away from the screen. But when we were there, two guys were lying instead on the concrete floor beneath the monolith, watching the film close-up. One seemed to be recording it on his iPhone. (It's funny how people seem to automatically record or photograph things around them now, almost as if that's the only way they can really see them. I'm guilty of that too!) Anyway, I liked the way the huge film dwarfed the two guys on the floor.

Dead Pigeon

I couldn't believe it -- of all the places in London to go on my last day of photo class, we were assigned Borough Market. I'd just been there the day before with Liz and Sally! Oh well.

The teacher told us that it can pay to find a quiet spot to linger with your camera and observe. In other words, you don't need to be running around all the time. Just sit and be attentive. (Very zen!)

I took that advice. As I was eating lunch at the market, I saw a flattened pigeon in the road nearby. I got interested in the ways people responded to the pigeon -- some pointed, some frowned or made gross-out faces, some laughed. Many people didn't seem to notice it at all.



I sat with my camera and photographed people and their reactions. I wound up with 17 shots, which you can see on Flickr here.


One oblivious guy managed to drag his suitcase right through the dead bird, as did the woman with the beige bag, behind him. (Why would someone bring a suitcase to Borough Market?)

Playing Hooky

I spent yesterday morning with my photography class, reviewing our photo assignments from earlier in the week. I was pretty happy with the way my Portobello Road photo essay turned out -- for just an hour or two of shooting, I think I came up with some pretty good images. We then went to St. Pancras train station to photograph an attempt by several couples to break a world record for longest marathon hug.

Then I played hooky. I skipped out of class to join Sally and Liz for a wander through Southwark and Bankside near London Bridge. I'd agreed to meet them before I signed up for the class and didn't realize the conflict until a few days ago -- I figured since we'd be taking lots of photos, being with them was just as good as being in class, really. Besides, it's not like I'm getting a grade or even a graduation certificate.

We had a good time at Borough Market, a food-lover's paradise but a vegetarian's nightmare -- I saw wild game hanging from hooks and a deer being butchered. Yikes. Then we walked along the muddy banks of the Thames, picking up little shards of glass, pottery and clay smoking pipes. Beachcombing along the Thames is fascinating -- those shards could be hundreds of years old. (Apparently you need a license for serious beachcombing, the province of people known as "mudlarks." As you can see from this site, truly incredible, museum-quality objects can be recovered from the Thames.)

We went to the Tate Modern to see a photo exhibit and a temporary film installation. Then we went back to Borough Market, where we met Liz's husband Andy and drank a pint while standing outside a surreal red-carpet party for Walkers Crisps. I had no idea who the "celebrities" in attendance were, but then I don't watch "The Only Way is Essex" -- which is essentially England's "Jersey Shore" -- or "Celebrity Big Brother." (I tried to ask a papparazzo -- of which there were legion -- who the celebs were. He said "I don't speak English" and turned a cold shoulder. They really do have bad karma. Fortunately a kind woman nearby, waiting to enter the party herself, filled us in.)

We topped off the day with dinner at Applebee's. No, not that Applebee's. This is a seafood restaurant at Borough Market, where I had terrific skate wing.

Today, back to class for one final day!

(Photo: The spires of Southwark Cathedral, seen between overhead railroad tracks at Borough Market.)

Misty Market Day

On Wednesdays, particularly when it's damp and wintry, Portobello Road is transformed. It's not the impassable horde of foreign tourists that it becomes on Saturdays.


It's a market for locals, where people pass the time eating lunch outside a takeaway shop...


...or snoozing on a delivery truck...


...or having coffee at Coffee Republic.




A few stray shoppers check out the bright scarves, inexpensive pajama pants and London souvenir t-shirts.



The produce vendors, amid everything from potatoes and onions to pomegranates and lychee nuts, have time for some friendly banter.


A Japanese camera crew seizes an opportunity to stage a fashion shoot on the relatively empty street.



And the market recharges, getting ready for another crowded Saturday.

This is the photo essay I shot yesterday for my photography class. We had to include photos of five different types: an establishing shot that tells the overall story (top), a detail shot (pomegranate), a portrait (the woman through the scarves), a "moment" (the sleeping man, the man with the coffee) and a relationship shot (the women walking together, the produce sellers, the Japanese camera crew).

Long Shadows

Here are some of my photos from my class excursion to the South Bank of the Thames on Monday. The shadows at this time of year are so incredibly long -- the photo above was taken about 3 p.m., and the last of the photos about an hour later.





Yesterday we went to the Berwick Street Market and to Chinatown with some specific assignments, and today I'm supposed to shoot a photo essay on something within my postal code. (Today is homework day.) Tomorrow the class reconvenes!