How best to combine The Bard and the latest technological craze: Twitter? Easy:

Go here for synopses of each of William Shakespeare’s plays in 140 characters or less: Pandora’s Skull: All the Twittered Shakespeare Synopses.

Arise around 9:30, I think, and feel the pain of last night. Errrrrgh. As one heads to Caffé Nero for e-mail, etc., the face of the most notorious punk band in the world appears on a billboard advertising butter. Yes, Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols shilling for Country Life Dairy Products; and he’s wearing an excretiable red plaid jacket. Surely this is one of the signs of the apocalypse?

Breakfast out of the way, I seek an alarm clock so as to ensure catching my flight in a couple of days… Hang on, Jennifer’s note mentions picking me up at the airport Friday afternoon, which is excellent… but, erm… FRIDAY?!? Wasn’t it Saturday…? Shit!

I rapidly e-mail a few people pointing out that they now have a 36-hour window to meet me before I leave the country at an abominable hour Friday morning.

Back to hotel we head, after buying a newspaper for the sole benefit of confirmation of today’s date (and ensuring that there is a world outside for which to return), then check my printed flight information and itinerary. Friday, yes. Good to know that now. It might have been a bit of a problem had I got it wrong by a day.

Right. So off to Soak-Up Culture of Great Worth: the British Library to wander and stare at Really Old Books and Papers. These include (but were not limited to only): Read the rest of this entry »

Due to popular demand… Many people have asked… Someone idly asked yesterday… ‘when would this series continue?’ And so, because I am here to give the people what they want, here is what happened on the day The Colonial Went to the B.N.G.

Arising around 8:00 (although the notes for the day state an uncertainty about that time), St. Pancras International Rail Terminal is headed for, with a desire to locate coffee and food. Also, connectivity to confirm that Trudi Topham is still meeting me for the purpose of both delivering some material to me which has been ordered from both small publishers as well as through Amazon UK (which wasn’t available through Canadian sources; mostly books with different editions and/or covers), as well as accompanying me around the National Gallery.

Happily, one can check e-mail over breakfast of coffee and muffin-thing, as St. Pancras Station has free Wi-Fi! HUZZAH!

Sadly, Trudi is at King’s Cross Station on the other side of Pancras Road, but I’m able to see the grandness of this international terminal with its impressive roof of the Train Shed [image, left] which was designed by William Henry Barlow (who’s been immortalised in a statue in the Station). So, in the end, NICE!

I wander across the road, and — after working my way through a teeming mass of humanity down the entire King’s bloody Cross Station’s bloody warren of platforms and levels — locate the lady herself, complete with massive box of books. Huzzah! We head to hotel, dump the shit in my room, and then head to the wilds of the underground, where I buy an Oyster Card so as to be able to move about easily on any number of methods of available public transportation without the need to ensure my tickets not expired, correct change, and so on. For anyone visiting London, this is a boon, as you are only charged for the tickets you would normally need, but the most you can ever pay per day with this card is the maximum daily charge for unlimited use of the system and that flat rate is less than the cost of several tickets. If you plan to use the tube or the bus more than three times a day (go somewhere, go somewhere else, return to where you began), you’ve just saved money, and all you had to worry about was slapping your card on a big yellow disc when entering the tube or when both getting on and off a bus. Brilliant! Get one and make your visit to the City of Western Culture a breeze. You’ll thank me for it, I’m telling you!

The card, oddly, comes in a little yellow wallet with an advert for IKEA on the back. “Oh…! It’s got IKEA on it”, I remark to Trudi, whereupon we say “Oooooooo-OOOOOO!” at each other. Why it’s called an “Oyster Card” and not a BLAN or TORVELD as a consequence of the IKEA sponsorship is good for a few minutes of discussion. It may have something to do with IKEA’s brand-new Family Mobile — a virtual mobile phone network — but I suspect the new London Buses will be built from flat-pack kits. Read the rest of this entry »

While there will be more entries in the saga of the UK trip forthcoming (I’ve been distracted these past few weeks for a number reasons… more later about that is unlikely to have much detail, but I’ll say something about it in a bit), let’s listen to this worthy request from someone for you to be aware of a thing worthy of your awareness. Don’t worry about who this is from, if you don’t know them it doesn’t matter.

I am writing to ask if I can enlist your support in letting the world know about www.ifoundyourcamera.net

As you are surely aware via my Facebook page, I lost my camera 2 weeks ago and have been working like a bloodhound to try to recover it.

In the course of my search, I came across a website started about 9 months ago by a guy named Matt Preprost (sp?) out of Winnipeg, called www.ifoundyourcamera.net. Basically, he provides a reunion service for “Found Cameras and Orphaned Pictures”.

Some of the photos submitted from people who have found cameras are recent; but others go back a number of years or even decades. And as you might imagine, they are from all over the world: often from people who were abroad on holiday or attending weddings, etc, and who then lost their cameras and all their images. In the nine months his website has been active, Matt has managed to reunite at least a dozen people worldwide with their photographia.

The success of this ongoing project relies on a “viral” number of eyes visiting the site, in order for photos to be recognized and reunited with their owners.

Both as a photographer and as a believer in The Golden Rule, good Karma, whatever, I wanted to enlist your support for Matt’s website using the power of the Intertubes. Would you please visit www.ifoundyourcamera.net and take a look at the pictures posted there, in case you recognize anyone? I’d also like to ask if you would spread the word about this very worthy project to your parents, your friends and colleagues, both at home and abroad, and create a blog entry to publicize the site.

Losing the equipment is unfortunate — but it can be replaced. Our photographs of a new experience, however, are a very personal perspective that cannot be reproduced. In losing my images of Argentina, I’ve lost my unique vision of what most struck me about that country. I am crushed right now, and all I can think about is getting my pictures back, and getting others’ back to them as well.

Thanks in advance for checking it out, and for helping me to let the world know about Matt’s site.

And “thank you” to this person for telling us all about this. HUZZAH!

So in about 24 hours, I’ll be looking at that thing there on the right. And, yes, it does look like some sort of phallic symbol: perhaps a penis with a condom designed by a minimalist (“as long as the ‘working end’ is covered, then the job’s sorted, innit?”). Perhaps something different; more filthy, perhaps.

Anyway, the point is that that’s the Air Traffic Control Tower of Vancouver International Airport. And, no it’s not a joke: we really do have an international one, with more than one runway and all that, just like a real airport. As a matter of fact, there’s four runways (yes, they’re all paved), and a total of 17,495,049 people on 326,026 æroplanes went in and/or out of the terminal for one reason or another, and if you don’t believe me, then go here.

So there!

All of the final matters are done: tickets confirmed for train to and from Warwick; the hotel in Londinium’s King’s Cross area booked (“room comes decorated with modern ‘rusted shopping trolley and discarded condom/hypodermic needle’ motif…”); relevant pages of Lonely Planet book of Britain passed through OCR and proofed for most weirdness (Westminster Abbey doesn’t have ‘electrical’ burial monuments, for instance, preferring “elaborate” ones); PDF copies of passport and other identity papers amassed in folder on lap-top’s hard-drive, along with as much music as I can shoe-horn on there as well; the digital camera’s 2GB memory card is empty and ready for images; extra batteries for the camera and an electrical adaptor for the laptop are ready; etc.

What’s not been done yet is packing.

Yes, really.

I’m doing laundry right now, so I’m getting very, very close to that. Probably most of it will be done tonight, with one last sweep through things tomorrow, ensuring I’ve enough socks, shirts, boxers, a face flannel, that sort of thing.

One must have priorities; mine happen to involve lots of digital media, personal documents, and travel guide pages.

The next you hear from me — should everything co-operate according to plan — will be from the Midlands of the UK and will cover flight plus train journeys.

Let’s hope the first two hours in England goes a tad better on this trip than the first two hours the last trip provided after landing.