Saturday, January 22---
---Woke up this morning and got on a bus to head out to Winchester, a quaint little town south of London. It takes about two hours to get there, but when we do we’re greeted with a lovely town full of lush, green hills, rapidly flowing rivers, and some of the nicest townsfolk you’ll meet. We sign up for a walking tour of the city and our guide is an adorable old grandfatherly figure, the only person I’ve ever met who has a furry nose. (It’s like a thin film of white moss growing on his nose. You just want to hug this guy he’s so derned cute.)
Our guide takes us around the city, effortlessly showing us the beautiful sites along with dishing out the hot tidbits of history one comes to expect. The city was taken over by the Romans in 43AD, but they eventually left it in 400AD (around the same time they abandoned London, if you recall).
For some reason, on their way out the door, the Romans decided to kill most of the people in the town, and so Winchester was virtually dead for the next 300 years. Eventually, the Normans came through in 1066 and revived the town, both financially and emotionally. The town began to thrive again and the population started to climb back from the depths. Nunneries began to spring up in town to help the less fortunate (the buildings were called nunnaminsters) and there were three main ones in town, including the somewhat famous (at least around here) St. Mary’s Abbey, a partially excavated remain that was built in the early 10th century!
Then, the Plague hits Winchester, and all the growth and prosperity the town was experiencing is wiped out as the town is utterly decimated by its effects. From the late-1300s to the early-1500s, the town population went from over 8000 people to just under 2500.
Some other interesting facts about the town were that Florence Nightengale established the first hospital in this town to help deal with sick bishops. That’s not all that spectacular, but this is: to select the site for the hospital, she placed four poles around the town with large chunks of meat speared atop them. She then waited to see which pole’s meat lasted the longest and then reasoned that that site must be the healthiest spot in town since the meat rotted the slowest, so she ordered the construction of the hospital to begin on that spot!
Another point of interest in the town is their gorgeous cathedral, the eponymous Winchester Cathedral, which is over 900 years old. This mammoth building was made in 1079 by the Normans and it houses the longest nave in all of Europe, along with the tombs of several early Kings, the grave of Jane Austen, and one of the most beautiful things I have seen to date, the Great Screen. This is inside the church and stretches to the sky, covered with stone sculptures of various saints and priests, all rendered with unbelievable detail. There are 18 large, full body sculptures (19 including the huge one of Christ on the cross which is right in the center of the Screen), and over half a dozen smaller figures on the screen, and this is framed by high vaulted ceilings and an amazing stained glass window high above it. Unbelievable.
The church was sinking into the ground, ever so slowly, and would have crumbled if not for the efforts of one man in 1905. This man (who unfortunately must remain nameless as I do not know his name) diverted the River Itchen with a series of small dikes and dams and pumped out all the water in the basement of the building. Some still remains (and can be seen in the tre cool crypt in the basement -- there’s about a foot of water down there permanently, along with a rather creepy looking statue that seems to be rising from out of the water) and you can see on the main floor (and also outside) where the floor has sunk, creating subtle swells and rolls in the floor.
My fuzzy nosed friend also tells me that the monks in town didn’t take too kindly to praying with the public, so they erected their own place to pray; one that was completely separate from the loutish layperson. (He also said that the monks were rather bombastic and spoiled -- they used to eat venison and swan with some regularity while the others in town scrounged for a hearty meal of grubs and dung beetles.)
Some more random facts: Winchester, since it was a Roman city, was surrounded by a Roman wall for defensive purposes and you can still see a great majority of this today while walking around the town. Along these walls there were also five main gates to the city, large entryways that barred traffic, but only two remain today. One of the old chapels in town has since been turned into a movie theater (they call it “a luxury, state-of-the-art theater” in their town brochure, but it only has two screens. The big city boy in me scoffs at their arrogance and naiveté...) and this sparked quite a controversy because there were still crucifixes all over the place when it opened (and there still are- they haven’t taken any down, so you can watch near X-rated movies like South Park in the house of the Lord. Kinda funny.)
Also in the town lies the Great Hall, which is all that remains of Winchester Castle. This building is now used to hold the courts, but in the 13th century when it was built, it used to be a very upscale dining area, both in cuisine and design, for the royalty. On one end of the hall are housed great silver gates, easily over ten feet tall and extremely intricate, that commemmorate the wedding of Prince Charles and Princess Diana in 1981. On the other end lies a giant round table, allegedly the one used by King Arthur and his knights. According to dendrochronological and radio carbon dating tests, the table is shown to have been made between 1250 and 1280AD, which is right around the time when King Arthur was said to have lived, but many think the table to be a hoax -- I shall leave it up to you. Regardless, the table is huge and very niftily painted; definitely worth a look.
Right outside the Great Hall lies Queen Eleanor’s garden, an authentic English garden that is utterly beautiful. It contains a small central fountain and tiny arteries of water that split away from it, a tunnel arbor covered with vines that she was said to have walked through when she needed some privacy to conduct regal business, and also an herbery, which contains all the different spices and herbs that the cooks would use for her meals.
The town also contains Winchester College, the oldest school in England, founded way back in 1382 by Bishop William of Wykeham. This is an all-boys school for younger boys, those under 16, I believe.
All of this was terribly interesting and wonderful to look at, but maybe the best thing that I learned pertains to a hogshead. A hogshead is a container for beer and it holds a walloping 54 gallons, or 400 pints! The bartender said if I drank one, it would be free, but I had just eaten a rather large meal, so I had to turn him down. Too bad. I was gonna take him up on it, too.
After our tour I have a few minutes to spare, so I walk along the river and then run up to the top of the town’s big hill. You can see for miles up there -- can see the river twisting its way through the countryside, can see the giant cathedral in all its glory, can see the castle high atop the city. Truly a sight. I run back down the hill, board the bus, and head back to London.
Sunday, January 24 ---
---I wake up early (among the most heinous of crimes to subject a man to on a Sunday -- the natural day of extreme oversleeping and inactivity meant to be spent in front of the TV) and since I am without a TV, I have to go to work (that’s the penalty in this country, so I better find me a Fujitsu fast and chill with the tube -- it’s the American way...) Needless to say, I am not in the world’s best mood on the way to work, especially thanks to the happenings of the previous week. Once I get there, though, there’s a lot to do, too bad it’s more of the unimportant stuff that I’ve been doing all week. I check the archives to see if anyone has done certain stories, I make a few phone calls, I cruise the net, I waste time with unnecessary bathroom breaks (they must think I have a bladder the size of a thimble or I have more squirts than an adoption agency), etc. All this is in a pursuit to kill as much time as possible before lunchtime.
Then they decide to throw homeboy a bone and I get to scour the photo archives to pick the pics for tomorrow’s issue (kinda cool, but oh so tedious -- they have a computer circa 19-ought-two and runs about as fast as a sloth on sedatives).
After this, I take a prolonged lunch on the steps of St. Paul’s (this time I’m killing time until it’s time to go home -- again, it’s the American way...) and then head back to the grind. I actually get to write up two stories towards the end of the afternoon -- too bad it’s five minutes before I was supposed to leave. I write them up, get them deemed “pretty good” (hogwash. Pulitzer called and he said he wanted his prize back.) and then I take off a little early so I can get home for football.
The playoffs are today! I rush back so that I can meet everyone at the pre-ordained time of 5:30 so we can head off to the Sports Cafe to watch both games. I get home and, of course, no one is here. I fix myself a nice meal (killing a half hour), I read some in my book (killing another half hour) and then I read some more (yet another half hour.)
Just when I’m about ready to go head hunting, people finally show up and we head out after much delay. T-Bone is anxious and nearly gets in an argument over the inconsiderate nature of my peers (if your word is worth as much to me as a ticket to a Spice Girls / Barbra Streisand concert, why offer it?), but I refrain and go watch football. We catch the last half of the Titans game (quite an exciting one) and then watch the first half of the Rams-Bucs game (not nearly as exciting -- the half-time score is a real doozy; I’m not sure if I’m watching baseball or football -- 5-3)
Watching football in a room filled with Americans was just the tonic I needed, though, to cure a little homesickness. I felt like I was back home with my pals, just relaxing and watching the game. Everyone was so excited and cheering for the teams, fights nearly broke out, someone called someone else a hairy backed Mary -- ahhh, home...
When I first walked in, I actually felt relief when I heard Greg Gumbel’s voice drifting down from the speakers in the ceiling! (A sad day when that’s a highlight, eh?) And it felt really good just to listen to Americans talk and to chat away with fellow Yankees.
Tired, both of the boring game and physically from a long week, I head home to write and turn in for work again in the morning.