Tuesday, August 16, 2005
The Birds
Gherkin and the Lloyd's Building
Monument
Mission: Impossible meets Samuel Pepys
Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
Bridget Jones' House
Phantom Jobs
Today is the end of my fourth week in London, and still no job. I have, however, found an apartment in Covent Garden. It's not quite a studio, and not quite a one-bedroom, but it's exceptionally good value at £200 for the location. Yes, I know that I don't yet have a job, but I'm trying to be positive and regard that as an inconvenience more than an obstacle. I have insisted that I pay Denise a notional amount of money for staying here, and we negotiated £80, so really there isn't much difference to have a place of my own. Also, I'd be able to start cooking at home, thereby saving me a little on the average of £10 I am paying for dinner each night. Anyway, I find out later this morning if I got the flat.
The job situation has gone from dire to desparate. The problem now is that fewer and fewer jobs are being listed each day. Strangely, I have never had more firm opportunities. Right now, four agents are working with employers to put me forward for four separate jobs. One job is in Ealing, a half-hour commute, so it's more of a last resort than anything else. I know this sounds promising, but the employers are moving unbelievably slow. I haven't had interviews yet. But I'm finding it hard to get excited about these jobs now. It seems to be the case that each one, eventually, turns into a no-go from the employer. I find it sus. I'm beginning to think that the jobs don't even exist- that the agents try and line up people for jobs that may eventuate. Either that or my life is turning into a Polanski film, as I turn more and more paranoid from life in a big city.
In the meantime, I am trying to enjoy London life, which isn't that hard at all! :-)
On Friday night, Martin (and his flatmate Patrick) took Troy and I to Fiction - a gay club night at some hole-in-the-wall location north of Kings Cross Station. A lot of the clubs here are located in the arches underneath railway viaducts. Fiction is no exception, but it has been decorated in a Moroccan-kasbah-air-raid-shelter style... with an outside beer garden. Not one pool table in sight. There was a lot of craziness running around, and it didn't take us long to find some friends of friends, and get into the swing of things.
The rest of the weekend was pretty slow-going. Denise and Anthony were out of town, so I enjoyed some quiet time to myself reading Nelson De Mille's latest thriller Night Fall. It concerns the mystery of what happened with the doomed TWA 800 flight. Set in the period from July to September 2001, I have a hunch where the story is heading... but the great thing about De Mille is that one can never be sure.
Speaking of books, I recently finished Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls. It's a non-fictinon account of how the New Hollywood directors (like Spielberg, Lucas, Coppola, Scorsese, De Palma, Beatty, Schrader, Friedkin etc) were given unprecedented freedom in the 1970s to produce and direct films of their own choosing - destroying the old studio system once and for all - but in turn, inadvertently laying the groundwork for what has become the studio-driven, big-budget, high-concept cinema (like Titanic and Lethal Weapon 9) that is almost the only thing that Hollywood produces these days. It's a top read, with lots of gossipy details about these directors excesses. Some of the stories are so salacious, I was beginning to doubt the veracity of the material, until I flicked through the appendices that methodically attribute each quote and supposition.
On Sunday afternoon I used the tube to quickly get round to a few different places on my sight-seeing list. First up, was the Monument to the Great Fire of London. Taking the form of a 202-foot high doric column, the Monument has stood for more than 300 years exactly 202 feet from the spot in Pudding Lane where the fire started. Visitors can climb the 311 steps in the exposed circular stairway to get to an observation deck near the top of the monument, but it's not an easy task. But the view from the observation deck is pretty good - not all that high, but amazing given how long the monument has stood on that site.
From Monument I ventured back over the river to Borough and Southwark to visit the location of three film settings. I'll post the photos soon. I also stopped to have a look at the Clink Prison Museum. This is the prison which gave its name to all prisons. The museum is located near the sight of one of the original locations, as it seems that the prison was rebuilt many times in roughly the same spot. The museum fitted into my category of crap themed attractions. After shelling out £5, the ticket seller tried to convince me to buy a guide book as well. I said no, and soldiered on to find a bunch of small rooms with prison-themed dioramas. The feudal-clothed mannequins looked as disinterested as the museum was disinteresting. With hindsight, I should have just purchased the guide book and skipped the museum. I did learn one interesting fact: that until the 18th century it was incumbent upon prisoners to pay for their imprisonment. The prison cells had street level-gratings, convenient for prisoners to beg for food and money.
Last stop on Sunday was Leytonstone. Being the birth place of Alfred Hitchcock, the tube station redecorated its walls with mosaics depicting famous scenes from his films or recreating famous photos from his life. I also walked down to 517 Leytonstone High Road, his actual birth home, and found a modern service station in its place. A blue plaque did confirm I had the right place though. Later that evening I realised that if I had visited Leytonstone the day before, I would have arrived exactly 106 years after Hitch's birth. Missed it by that much. However, his wife Alma was born exactly one day later in the same year, so technically I did visit his birthplace on her birthdate. Except that Alma was born somewhere else, and didn't know Hitch then.
Speaking of freaky date coincidences, yesterday (Monday 15 August) I visited Churchill's Cabinet War Rooms. The coincidence is that V-J day, exactly 60 years before, was the last day the war rooms were used. OK, enough with the strained efforts at date coincidences. I need a job. But the war rooms were really interesting. Easily the best museum I have visited in London, and one of the highlights of the trip. They were built in the late 30s, as Europe seemed to be moving inevitably towards war, and Churchill occupied them from the day he took office in early 1940. Located a stone's throw from Downing Street, beneath a Treasury building, the rabbit warren of offices and accommodation were home to Churchill's command from the day he took office in 1940 until the end of the war. Being stuffy and cramped, and without flushing toilets, the War Rooms weren't popular. Churchill is said to have hated them, and spent more time above ground than was necessary or wise. He apparently enjoyed watching the air raids from the building's roof, as much as he enjoyed playing the fearless war leader. Soon after V-J day, the War Rooms were thoroughly photographed and then dismantled. After 35 years of life as a storage shed, the rooms were reconstructed as a museum in the early 80s, using the photographs as a guide to putting the jigsaw back together. Just this year, a new annexe was opened, being a museum about Churchill's life. While small, it is the most interactive museum I have ever visited. I especially like the huge table with an electronic timeline projected from the roof. Visitors can manipulate the timeline with their hands, like something out of Minority Report. At £10 for entry, the War Rooms is up there with the most expensive of London's attractions, but well worth the visit.
The job situation has gone from dire to desparate. The problem now is that fewer and fewer jobs are being listed each day. Strangely, I have never had more firm opportunities. Right now, four agents are working with employers to put me forward for four separate jobs. One job is in Ealing, a half-hour commute, so it's more of a last resort than anything else. I know this sounds promising, but the employers are moving unbelievably slow. I haven't had interviews yet. But I'm finding it hard to get excited about these jobs now. It seems to be the case that each one, eventually, turns into a no-go from the employer. I find it sus. I'm beginning to think that the jobs don't even exist- that the agents try and line up people for jobs that may eventuate. Either that or my life is turning into a Polanski film, as I turn more and more paranoid from life in a big city.
In the meantime, I am trying to enjoy London life, which isn't that hard at all! :-)
On Friday night, Martin (and his flatmate Patrick) took Troy and I to Fiction - a gay club night at some hole-in-the-wall location north of Kings Cross Station. A lot of the clubs here are located in the arches underneath railway viaducts. Fiction is no exception, but it has been decorated in a Moroccan-kasbah-air-raid-shelter style... with an outside beer garden. Not one pool table in sight. There was a lot of craziness running around, and it didn't take us long to find some friends of friends, and get into the swing of things.
The rest of the weekend was pretty slow-going. Denise and Anthony were out of town, so I enjoyed some quiet time to myself reading Nelson De Mille's latest thriller Night Fall. It concerns the mystery of what happened with the doomed TWA 800 flight. Set in the period from July to September 2001, I have a hunch where the story is heading... but the great thing about De Mille is that one can never be sure.
Speaking of books, I recently finished Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls. It's a non-fictinon account of how the New Hollywood directors (like Spielberg, Lucas, Coppola, Scorsese, De Palma, Beatty, Schrader, Friedkin etc) were given unprecedented freedom in the 1970s to produce and direct films of their own choosing - destroying the old studio system once and for all - but in turn, inadvertently laying the groundwork for what has become the studio-driven, big-budget, high-concept cinema (like Titanic and Lethal Weapon 9) that is almost the only thing that Hollywood produces these days. It's a top read, with lots of gossipy details about these directors excesses. Some of the stories are so salacious, I was beginning to doubt the veracity of the material, until I flicked through the appendices that methodically attribute each quote and supposition.
On Sunday afternoon I used the tube to quickly get round to a few different places on my sight-seeing list. First up, was the Monument to the Great Fire of London. Taking the form of a 202-foot high doric column, the Monument has stood for more than 300 years exactly 202 feet from the spot in Pudding Lane where the fire started. Visitors can climb the 311 steps in the exposed circular stairway to get to an observation deck near the top of the monument, but it's not an easy task. But the view from the observation deck is pretty good - not all that high, but amazing given how long the monument has stood on that site.
From Monument I ventured back over the river to Borough and Southwark to visit the location of three film settings. I'll post the photos soon. I also stopped to have a look at the Clink Prison Museum. This is the prison which gave its name to all prisons. The museum is located near the sight of one of the original locations, as it seems that the prison was rebuilt many times in roughly the same spot. The museum fitted into my category of crap themed attractions. After shelling out £5, the ticket seller tried to convince me to buy a guide book as well. I said no, and soldiered on to find a bunch of small rooms with prison-themed dioramas. The feudal-clothed mannequins looked as disinterested as the museum was disinteresting. With hindsight, I should have just purchased the guide book and skipped the museum. I did learn one interesting fact: that until the 18th century it was incumbent upon prisoners to pay for their imprisonment. The prison cells had street level-gratings, convenient for prisoners to beg for food and money.
Last stop on Sunday was Leytonstone. Being the birth place of Alfred Hitchcock, the tube station redecorated its walls with mosaics depicting famous scenes from his films or recreating famous photos from his life. I also walked down to 517 Leytonstone High Road, his actual birth home, and found a modern service station in its place. A blue plaque did confirm I had the right place though. Later that evening I realised that if I had visited Leytonstone the day before, I would have arrived exactly 106 years after Hitch's birth. Missed it by that much. However, his wife Alma was born exactly one day later in the same year, so technically I did visit his birthplace on her birthdate. Except that Alma was born somewhere else, and didn't know Hitch then.
Speaking of freaky date coincidences, yesterday (Monday 15 August) I visited Churchill's Cabinet War Rooms. The coincidence is that V-J day, exactly 60 years before, was the last day the war rooms were used. OK, enough with the strained efforts at date coincidences. I need a job. But the war rooms were really interesting. Easily the best museum I have visited in London, and one of the highlights of the trip. They were built in the late 30s, as Europe seemed to be moving inevitably towards war, and Churchill occupied them from the day he took office in early 1940. Located a stone's throw from Downing Street, beneath a Treasury building, the rabbit warren of offices and accommodation were home to Churchill's command from the day he took office in 1940 until the end of the war. Being stuffy and cramped, and without flushing toilets, the War Rooms weren't popular. Churchill is said to have hated them, and spent more time above ground than was necessary or wise. He apparently enjoyed watching the air raids from the building's roof, as much as he enjoyed playing the fearless war leader. Soon after V-J day, the War Rooms were thoroughly photographed and then dismantled. After 35 years of life as a storage shed, the rooms were reconstructed as a museum in the early 80s, using the photographs as a guide to putting the jigsaw back together. Just this year, a new annexe was opened, being a museum about Churchill's life. While small, it is the most interactive museum I have ever visited. I especially like the huge table with an electronic timeline projected from the roof. Visitors can manipulate the timeline with their hands, like something out of Minority Report. At £10 for entry, the War Rooms is up there with the most expensive of London's attractions, but well worth the visit.
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