The Year's Deep Midnight

When I was in London – back at the beginning of November – one of the friends I met up with there asked me if the days were noticeably shorter up north in Scotland. (I don't think of the UK as being particularly big, but what size it does have is all in its north–south length, so there actually is a significant latitude difference between southern England and northern Scotland.)

I said I hadn't noticed it yet, but I expected I would once the clocks changed. And indeed, as soon as we returned from daylight saving to normal/winter time, it was suddenly very noticeable how short the days were growing, with the sun setting in the afternoon.

At the solstice, the very shortest day, Aberdeen had only about 6 hours and 40 minutes of daylight (compared to, for example, New York City's 9 hours and 15 minutes), with sunrise at 8:46 am and sunset at 3:26 pm.

3:26 pm!

I didn't think to take any pictures on the solstice itself (I was holed up in the library, working on a huge assignment...as always) but here for example is the tail end of sunset colors, well after sunset itself, a little before 4:30 pm in mid-December:

And a winter morning sky, a little after 8 a.m., twilit but still half an hour away from sunrise:

I'd experienced the short-ish winter days in Berlin and I knew Aberdeen was further north than that (though I didn't realize at first just how much further). What I also didn't realize until recently is that Aberdeen is further north than Copenhagen! Yes, we've got a (very small) part of Scandinavia beat. And for someone who loves both Scandinavia and the strange, fascinating extremes of the seasons, that's rather exciting.

This time of year, I like to share John Donne's poem "A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day," which is so wonderfully dramatic about this darkest part of the year. I'm too late with it now, since the solstice is past (as well as St. Lucy's Day, which used to fall on the solstice before calendar adjustments), so I won't quote it all, just link it: "A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day, Being the Shortest Day."

London Weekend

I went to London! (Almost a month ago now, but this is the first chance I've had to write about it.)

It's funny that this was my first proper outing since moving to the UK, because I didn't have any particular urge towards London. I've been there before, but I haven't been there often. So I'm in that in-between place where I've been a couple times, so I don't feel a need to go see the tourist sights, but I haven't been there enough to have favorite haunts to visit back to. London? I'd rather go somewhere new, where I've never been at all!

But. There's this writer I really admire, John Finnemore. One (among many) of his projects is a radio sketch comedy show on BBC Radio 4. BBC radio shows are recorded in front of a live audience, for which the BBC holds a random ticket drawing. The tickets are free, but you only get one if your name comes up in the lottery. So when I heard that John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme was going to be recording a new series now, now that I too live here in the UK, of course I put my name in. (Frankly, this is one of the most exciting thing about living in the UK – suddenly having such proximity to the people who write and create so much of the cultural stuff I read and listen to.) John Finnemore is massively popular, though, so of course I didn't expect to get a ticket.

I GOT A TICKET.

Time to plan a London weekend!

I figured I would make a whole cultural weekend out of it and see some theater as well. I have a friend who knows the London theater scene inside and out, so I got a bunch of recommendations from her; another friend who used to live in London got excited and gave me more restaurant suggestions than I could go to in probably several weeks.

And you know what? As much as I'd thought I was uninterested in London, as soon I started planning the weekend, I got super excited for it. Oh, right, this is why people go to London: because there's SO MUCH there.

I took the night train from Aberdeen: the Caledonian Sleeper. I hadn't been on a night train in a while, I guess since I took one back to Berlin from Budapest in 2014 – so, not since I moved away from Europe, in other words. I love trains, I love night trains, and letting me on a night train is one of the best ways to get me to run around like a fool, taking giddy pictures. Night train!

The next morning, I woke as the train was pulling into Euston Station. (Usually I wake up before arrival, especially since in mainland Europe, conductors generally come around beforehand announcing the approaching station. But not here, apparently.)

I stumbled off with my backpack (so nice to travel light again, after last summer's 2 1/2 months of schlepping several climates' worth of gear all over Europe!) It was 7 a.m. on a workday, and Euston Station was a-bustle. I've rarely seen such a frenetic public space. In New York, maybe.

London is great but the Tube is a nightmare – hot, stuffy, so crowded. A major reason why I would never consider living in London. (Well...along with the cost of living.) If I had to ride the Tube even occasionally, I would hate the world and everything in it.

But then I came up out of the Tube, and...I was in London! People getting coffees and striding purposefully off to work, on a gloriously sunny, mild November day. Sunshine in London, who would have thought?

I spent the day wandering around central London, mostly by foot, taking it all in. The Thames, which is indeed an impressive river. The bustle of Fleet Street, the Strand, Soho, Covent Garden. London in all its big-city bustle. I don't generally think of myself as a city person, but there was something invigorating about being among so many different people, all going about their different lives.

(Link to the full album of photos will be at the bottom of this post.)

THEN IT WAS TIME FOR JOHN FINNEMORE. i.e., time to head over to the BBC Broadcasting House and join the queue.

I'd debated how early I should get there: the BBC gives away somewhat more tickets than there are seats, on the assumption that since the tickets are free, some people will request them but then not bother to show up. This system breaks down, though, when it's a super popular show for which everyone shows up. So being early is important.

In the end I got there a little before 5 pm (for an 8:30 show). And found that the queue was already down the block and around the corner! Oh no!! But it turned out they were queuing for the first of the evening's two Souvenir Programme recordings, whereas I was there for the second one. So in fact I ended up being number eleven in the queue for my show. As in, the eleventh person to arrive, out of everyone, which meant I would be in the first group allowed in when the studio doors opened. Yes, I was proud enough to take a picture of my number sticker:

The recording itself was fantastic, so worth it. Seeing John Finnemore in person, after following his works all these years. Putting faces to the voices, of a cast that's so familiar after listening to six series of this show (many times over!). Getting to see all the "behind the scenes" details of how a radio show is made. I found myself wondering why I'd never thought (after years of doing stage managing in theater) of trying out something similar in radio. It looked like fun.

And then, because I am a dork, if I've maybe not mentioned that lately, I took pictures with the (model of the) TARDIS in the lobby. Being in London, at the BBC Broadcasting House, with the TARDIS. Pretty great.

The rest of my time in London was no slouch either, though. The next day I figured out the bus system (rather proud of that – I find even the largest subway and tram systems a piece of cake, but the intricate tangles of bus routes daunt me) and rode down to Camberwell, to try out a small fraction of the restaurants my friend in Aberdeen had recommended.

She'd said Camberwell was a great place to get good food cheaply, and oh boy was it ever. Even more, though, I loved the atmosphere of the neighborhood. The main streets felt very urban and incredibly international (visually, it reminded me of Neukölln, for anyone who knows Berlin), brimming over with shops and restaurants and produce markets from every imaginable corner of the world. An immigrant place, not fancy, but vibrant. So many cultures coming together. So many cuisines on offer: Turkish, Vietnamese, Chinese, Mongolian, Portuguese, a French bakery, a traditional English pub, a West African health-food-vegan-crêpes café, falafel, fish and chips...that was just a section of one street.

I was intrigued, too, by the striking contrast: from the gritty-urban-international vibe of the main streets, I only had to turn a single corner into the side streets to suddenly be in the most placid, leafy, residential neighborhood imaginable, lined with stately brick rowhouses. Fascinating.

Here was my breakfast, at the Yucca Garden Café in Camberwell. (I swear I'm not generally someone who takes pictures of my food, but this was just too excellent. I went in looking for a simple, even diner-style breakfast, and at the same price a diner breakfast would have been, I somehow ended up with this gorgeousness.)

That afternoon, I met my friends Pete and Nína (friends from Reykjavík!) They showed me the Seven Dials area of quirky shops and classy cafés (plus, the place they said has London's best coffee, which is quite a claim). We went to the Nordic Bakery (but of course), and a wine bar, and wandered Denmark Street, which is an entire street of guitar shops. An entire street of guitar shops! (Basses and ukeleles also allowed.)

Then I went to the theater. I hadn't been able to get tickets to the shows I'd looked into at the National Theatre or the Donmar Warehouse, but I was equally excited for what I did get, which was the Young Vic. The play was called "Wings," by Arthur Kopit. It's actually a play from 1978 (I did think the use of a tape recorder seemed a bit anachronistic...) but the Young Vic did this extraordinary adaptation where the main character – a woman recovering from a stroke and struggling to regain language – spends the entire time hooked into a harness and being whizzed about the air over the stage by wires, to represent her disorientation. The actress did an amazing job.

Also, can I just say: £10 for an excellent seat at top-quality professional theater? Now I see why people go to London especially for theater!

On my last day, I actually went to Camberwell again, because I liked it so much, then continued on over to Brixton. Like Camberwell, it was a wealth of cultures. So many produce shops, African groceries, Halal shops... In short order I saw a poster advertising a Basque brunch, then walked past an Eritrean restaurant. Brixton!

Then I stumbled across Pop Brixton and fell immediately in love. 

Pop Brixton is "a community initiative that has transformed a disused plot of land into a pioneering space that showcases the most exciting independent businesses from Brixton and Lambeth." The place is built out of old shipping crates. They provide space for local businesses, community gatherings, even little garden spaces. There's a free fridge where anyone suffering from hunger can take what they need. Yeah, I fell in love. 

The last bit of the afternoon, I just wandered, wending my way through the city to eventually end up at St Pancras Station, to head to Luton Airport. I flew back to Aberdeen (boo, such a poor substitute for a train, but it's how the timing worked out), but it happened I was traveling on Bonfire Night (Guy Fawkes Night), so I got to watch fireworks going off all over the country, from above. I don't think I'd ever seen fireworks from above before!

All in all, it was a perfect "mini-break" before diving back into the intense demands of grad school. (I worked like mad on my assignments beforehand, and I worked like mad after, but I let those three days be purely for London and discovering new things, no stress about deadlines allowed.) It also powerfully reminded me how much I need that jolt of newness and excitement that travel gives me, letting my brain step out of my daily life and soak up something new.


Here's my album of photos from the trip, if you want to see more:


IN LONDON TOWN


(Just a reminder that in Google Photos – and I am still not over them replacing the supremely smooth-functioning Picasa with this nonsense – the photos appear not to have captions. Which is a frustration, since writing the captions is where I have the most fun! But there's a little "i" (for info) symbol near the top right, and if you click on that, an information box expands that lets you see each picture's caption.)