After sleeping for half of the night on one arm to keep it warm, then waking to discover that the cold had temporarily frozen solid the other arm and having to turn over to reverse the process, I awoke to toast and tea provided by Frida. Not being British, she had no idea how a good British breakfast works and kept plying Justin and I with more rounds of toast than any human being could physically eat.
No wonder the heating doesn't work... The landlord had applied his own brand of wiring to the the place, If you tried to turn a light on downstairs the bathroom fan upstairs came on...
I declined the offer of a shower after Frida had told us no-one in the house had yet used the newly installed downstairs shower room in case they were electrocuted. Over breakfast we discussed what to do with the day in Southampton. I had a vague idea that the Mary Rose was located in the town, Justin expanded on this with the information that there was a historic dockyard which not only housed the Mary Rose, but also HMS Victory! Ideal, I thought, I can get some pictures of the cannons forged in Rotherham that I talked about in this previous POST. Whipping out his phone, Justin dialed up the Internet and found to our horror that HMS Victory was not visitable until April. Not only that but the Mary Rose exhibition was closed until 2012!
Closed until the Mayan Prophecies come true!
Justin calmed us by telling us about the Spinnaker Tower that he had been up when he was younger. This was our goal, we decided. We waddled out of the house (not forgetting to wipe our feet as we left...Ttch, Students!) and headed to the university to find out more information on one of the computer points. It turns out everyone of the above mentioned visitor attractions were not even in Southampton, but in Portsmouth instead. Boy, did we all feel like total douchebags? A quick scan of what was on offer in Southampton revealed a maritime museum, an Archaeology museum and an aviation museum. We took in the former and latter of these choices. Being archaeologists as our day jobs (when I'm working) Justin and I didn't want to spend our spare time looking at archaeology. The museums were good, but the best feature of the Aviation museum was the amount of signs telling you not to do this, or not to do that: No running, no stepping over the kerb, no sitting on the glass, no touching, no spitting, no dogging, no looking, no exit, no burning churches, no false God worship, no bananas, no fun, no large group gatherings, etc etc. I provide a few photos of these signs below:
Good God, is there anything we CAN do in this museum?
Mind you it wasn't that surprising as when we arrived the young attendant told us he couldn't change our twenty pound note rather brusquely. Justin then overheard the head curator berate the poor lad for about ten minutes on the etiquette of informing visitors about the lack of change in the till. I bet it was that bastard that insisted on the signage. The museum was good apart from that, literally packed to the gills with aeroplanes, including the R J Mitchell designed Supermarine S.6A which won the Sneider Trophy in 1929, but I'm sure you knew that already. After having a seat in the Sandringham Sea Plane and seeing a couple more signs we headed for chips and home.
This sign was behind a piece of glass, it said NO ENTRY. How the fuck would you even be able to enter anyway? What the fuck is going on here? This is Madness!!
Home James, and don't spare the horses!
Justin and I drove back to Steyning where Lucy had made a great dinner for us weary travellers. We were all absolutely shattered and I think Justin wanted to spend at least an hour alone with Lucy on Valentine's Day, so I hit the hay. I awoke the next morning said farewell to J and L and headed off to the M25 again, this time, East bound and towards Waltham Abbey, where Dr David Kenyon works as Curator of the Royal Gunpowder Mills. Danny Boy met up with us as well and David allowed us to indulge ourselves in his playroom; the exhibit he has been working on for the past months. Basically a room packed full of weapons. Danny and I were like kids in a sweetshop. We messed around for an hour with the Luger, Walther PPK, MP44, MP40, AK47, M1911, MG42, MG34, Webley, Mauser K98 amongst others. All the while taking photos to send to Justin as he sat at his desk slaving away at work.
Hande Hoch Mutterfucker!
I finally arrived home to be taken out for a curry buffet as my brother was home for the weekend. My third and final curry of a great weekend!
2 comments:
Darn sarf sounds a lot more fun that up north, I think you should move there.
You should secure your shit.
Post a Comment