Posted by Bone at December 16th, 2005




The eye at night

Originally uploaded by bigguybigcity.

^Austin powers reference^

Yesterday I travelled down to the real big city to do some research at the Imperial War Museum.

I’m not really one for getting up early, and the hour of seven o’clock is not really my friend, but nevertheless, two larms managed to drag me out of bed (which was a struggle because the bastards next door started playing Rammstein *loudly* at 2a.m.).

Bacon & black pudding bagel safely in my stomach, I headed off to the station. I feared that the rush-hour trains would lead to me standing up all the way, but tomy surprise I was able to sit, I read the economist and listened to Sigur Ros () (those who know, will get it). It’s funny how different types of music make a journey feel different.

Astoundingly long story (possibly not my best work, but there is some nice stuff in there) after the cut.


I came over all touristy when I saw the giant New Wembley arch in the distance, just staring at it, hopefully I’ll get to go there one day, hopefully to see Newcastle.

Okay, tube, first time since the bombings, no anxiety there, the only confusion came with understanding why there a 2 Northern Lines, if there’s two of them why do they have the same name!

I took the long route from waterloo, going along the Thames, saw the IMAX, the eye (obv.) Westminster Bridge, House of Parliament, Lambeth Palace, and finally the IWM, with its giant 15 inch guns outside. Let’s be clear, the guns themselves are bigger than 15 inches.

Once inside I reproted to reception who knew who I was (hoorah). I cloakroomed my bag and was only allowed to take my pen, notepad, and info sheets up with me. I was escorted to the reading room, which is circular, with a big chandelier and the ten commandments are on the wall. I requested my documents (which you’re apparently meant to do over the phone) and got going. About 5 hours later I finished work, having not eaten or drank since I’d got there (no water in the reading room, I could damage the material).

It was actually quite moving reading the ‘real thing,’ meaning hand-written diary entries, and letters to home. The front of one folder told me about someone who died in 1917, during a battle, which was horrible because I read a diary entry from 1915 in which the soldier wrote about how if he did die, it was important that his children understood how hard things had been for their mother, having to do the role of both parents, and live without her husband (they had married just before the war and had seen each other for about 4 weeks by the time it was their first anniversary). Another folder contained letters about the famous Christmas truce, it was remarkable just how much the soldier was aware of the incredible nature of what he had experienced. It’s this kind of thing that keeps me interested in my chosen subject, and why I don’t really feel a need to defend it when people questions my choice.

After I had been escorted back to the Main Hall I had a look around the museum (look at flickr for a few pics), it was really good, a little bit empty, and much to really engage those above early secondary school, but it was interesting nevertheless.

I walked back to waterloo tube station slowly, taking in the metropolitan sights and souds that I don’t experience often enough. I walked past a row of restaurants/coffe places/cafes but couldn’t really bring myself to go in and order. Apparently, I’m just not the type of person to eat on their own in a restaurant, even after 9 hours without food.

I managed to hop onto the 18:00 train home from St Pancras (will it have walls when the building work is done?) and seemed to piss off a suit when I asked if I could occupy the seat next to him. Paz picked me up from the station (thanks little man!), and I basically died when I got home.

Also, finished uni today for the calender year, it ended rather bizarrely when a classmate did a rap to our clapped beat after his team lost the quiz, to be fair to him, he is with a record label, so it’s not *that* bad, and he was pressured to. But, as Briony said, “I cannot wait to tell the girls about that!” Again, it was very bizarre.

Long post! You’ll probably need to sleep as much as I do after reading any of that.