Sawbones and an Unfortunate Eructation
I met N.F. at the station. He told me had an itinerary planned for us, which was welcome news.
First up was a pint or two in a cavernous old pub, whose name escapes me (as will all of the subsequent pubs we visited through the day and night). Then a short walk to another pub, which dated to the C17th, for another few pints. This was a tavern where lawyers had for centuries been bringing their clients to celebrate their wins in court at The Old Bailey which was just around the corner. It was tiny, and it felt like stepping into a doll's house; people were certainly a lot smaller in those days, with their malnourishment, and scurvy, and rickets (N. F. recalled having once seen Nelson's shirt. He said it was the size of a twelve-year-old boy's).
The toilet was upstairs and was reached by a wooden staircase of unbelievable narrowness and steepness. Quite beautiful.
Then it was off to the Hunterian Museum, which is housed in the Royal College of Surgeons' building, at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was quite amazing. The collection was purchased by the British government in 1799. It features many hundred specimens of human and animal anatomy, and pieces of skeletons showing the effects of osteoporosis and syphilis etc. It was really fascinating. There were also many examples of early surgical instruments on display, which were chilling, but I guess they got the job done, even if it was without the help of any anaesthetic whatsoever, apart from a stiff drink and a bash on the head.
As we wandered, enthralled, around the exhibit, I recognised an Australian accent behind us. I turned to the young woman dragging her small child around and I said, with a smile, "Are you Australian?" She gave the briefest nod and glared at me coldly as if I was about to snatch her watch. When we stepped outside, I looked for my brand new umbrella, which I had left by the doorway, but someone had stolen it.
Then it was off to another pub for a few more pints; then it was off to another pub for a few more pints; then it was off to ANOTHER pub for a few more pints. After which, it all became rather hazy. But I do remember, with huge shame, being propped up at the bar in one of the last few pubs and thinking that I might surely be able to break wind surreptitiously. This proved to be a grave mistake and a disastrous one, as the resulting, quite appalling, stench hung like a breathtaking miasma in my immediate vicinity, making it perfectly clear to all present who the perpetrator of this vile and low act was. The barmaid quite rightly suggested that I was a 'bloody filthy animal'. She then quite reasonably told me that I should 'get outside!' In retrospect, in my defence, let me offer that I had merely been transported by the living history of these streets and many taverns, to a simpler time, when to fart, belch, puke, piss and shit was just seen as an amusing commonplace: it's in my British DNA (just ask the Carry On gang!)
Of the afternoon and evening, I remember the really great conversations and laughs that N. F. and I had along the way, and I am really touched and grateful that he took the time out to meet and entertain a relative stranger.
First up was a pint or two in a cavernous old pub, whose name escapes me (as will all of the subsequent pubs we visited through the day and night). Then a short walk to another pub, which dated to the C17th, for another few pints. This was a tavern where lawyers had for centuries been bringing their clients to celebrate their wins in court at The Old Bailey which was just around the corner. It was tiny, and it felt like stepping into a doll's house; people were certainly a lot smaller in those days, with their malnourishment, and scurvy, and rickets (N. F. recalled having once seen Nelson's shirt. He said it was the size of a twelve-year-old boy's).
The toilet was upstairs and was reached by a wooden staircase of unbelievable narrowness and steepness. Quite beautiful.
Then it was off to the Hunterian Museum, which is housed in the Royal College of Surgeons' building, at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It was quite amazing. The collection was purchased by the British government in 1799. It features many hundred specimens of human and animal anatomy, and pieces of skeletons showing the effects of osteoporosis and syphilis etc. It was really fascinating. There were also many examples of early surgical instruments on display, which were chilling, but I guess they got the job done, even if it was without the help of any anaesthetic whatsoever, apart from a stiff drink and a bash on the head.
As we wandered, enthralled, around the exhibit, I recognised an Australian accent behind us. I turned to the young woman dragging her small child around and I said, with a smile, "Are you Australian?" She gave the briefest nod and glared at me coldly as if I was about to snatch her watch. When we stepped outside, I looked for my brand new umbrella, which I had left by the doorway, but someone had stolen it.
Then it was off to another pub for a few more pints; then it was off to another pub for a few more pints; then it was off to ANOTHER pub for a few more pints. After which, it all became rather hazy. But I do remember, with huge shame, being propped up at the bar in one of the last few pubs and thinking that I might surely be able to break wind surreptitiously. This proved to be a grave mistake and a disastrous one, as the resulting, quite appalling, stench hung like a breathtaking miasma in my immediate vicinity, making it perfectly clear to all present who the perpetrator of this vile and low act was. The barmaid quite rightly suggested that I was a 'bloody filthy animal'. She then quite reasonably told me that I should 'get outside!' In retrospect, in my defence, let me offer that I had merely been transported by the living history of these streets and many taverns, to a simpler time, when to fart, belch, puke, piss and shit was just seen as an amusing commonplace: it's in my British DNA (just ask the Carry On gang!)
Of the afternoon and evening, I remember the really great conversations and laughs that N. F. and I had along the way, and I am really touched and grateful that he took the time out to meet and entertain a relative stranger.
Comments
Post a Comment