My Grand Tour of England and Wales - Part 3 of X

Day 6 - Lake District-Manchester-Imperial War Museum-Wales

Leaving the Lake District early, we drove down to Manchester, where Jie and Hwa took the Manchester United Old Trafford stadium tour. Not being interested in football, I trekked down to the Imperial War Museum North (newly opened in July 2002) which, though only including artefacts and exhibits from the Boer War onwards, was nonetheless interesting and informative.

The building was vast but had an empty feeling as there was much white space about not filled with exhibits. The reason for this was revealed later during 'The Big Picture', a light and sound show where images were projected on the many walls and empty spaces of the building. Visitors were warned that "The Big Picture" was something "some visitors may find distressing". If so, wth did they visit a WAR Museum? The Big Picture itself was chaotic and disorganised - perfectly in tune with modern sensibilities. One could say that this was to convey the chaos of war, but it was just annoying.

Interesting artefacts:

- A Harrier
- A Russian T-34 Tank
- A handbill recording the escape of the Transvaal President Paul Kreuger to Portugese East Africa which read:
"THE TRANSVAAL
TWO GUINEAS REWARD
Will be paid by any of our 'Gentlemen in Khaki'
to any person giving information that will lead
to the apprehension of
EX PRESIDENT
KRUGER
who on or about 21 May 1900
DESERTED
HIS LOVING WIFE AND FAMILY
and absconded with all the available money in the Transvaal, and left his wife and family on the parish relief of Lord Roberts and his army. Was last seen making another foolish speech from a cattle truck on his way to Machadodorp.

DESCRIPTION: Height about 5ft 6in: age 73 (or in his second childhood). Would be easily recognized by his lunacy actions. Iron grey hair, turned white since the relief of Ladysmith. Was last seen wearing a very shabby frock coat suit, a very old silk hat (one of the first that was made and was found after the flood) and always smoking a big badger's pipe. No underclothing, Union Jack socks and brown boots.

The above reward will be paid by any right-minded Englishman.

June 1900 By Order
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN"
- a bell from the Lusitania
- Argentine magazines from the time of the Falklands War which depicted Margaret Thatcher as the Devil and Hitler
- A little Red Book (I never knew it was so little)
- an Anti-War poster: "Fuck W*r [Footnote: US govt regulations prohibit the printing of obscene words]"

There was an interesting section on National Service. Apparently that deceptive euphemism came from the UK, where it was in effect from 1947 to 1963. Odd that Singapore implemented it, and stole the euphemism, after the enlightened British realised it should be abolished. At the same exhibit was an inspiring story: "William Harrison was a pacifist. His conscience told him killing was wrong. He joined the No Conscription Fellowship which was opposed to compulsory recruitment. In 1916 he refused to be called up and was arrested in March 1917. He was court-martialled in North Shields and sentenced to hard labour in Wormwood Socks and Newcastle prisons. He was finally released in April 1919."

[Additional material from elsewhere: Clifford Allen was the founder of the No-Conscription Fellowship. He was conscripted in 1916 but when he refused to serve he was sent to prison. While in prison Allen developed tuberculosis of the spine. Allen made the following statement at his Military Tribunal in 1916.

"We are all young men, and life is a precious thing to such men. We cherish life because of the opportunities for adventure and achievement which it offers to a man who is young. They say our country is in danger. Of course it is, but whose fault is that? It will be in danger in fifty years time, if our rulers know they can always win our support by hoisting danger signals. They will never heed our condemnation of their foreign policy if they can always depend upon our support in time of war. There is one interference with individual judgement that no state in the world has any sanction to enforce - that is, to tamper with the unfettered free right of everyman to decide for himself the issue of life and death."]

They also had an interesting item on propaganda - in the UK, a Ministry of Information was set up to co-ordinate UK propaganda (what about our Ministry of Information -and the Arts- then?), and the full name of the Nazi Ministry of Propaganda (one thing about fascist governments - at least they were honest about it) was the Ministry of Propaganda and Public Enlightenment. There was also some grotesque TV footage from the Vietnam War. At the part about World War II, they debunked the widely propagated myth that Britain fought alone after France had fallen to Hitler, as it had its Commonwealth. And then to display the effects of rationing and other post-war restrictions, they had a grotesque home-made teddy bear.

As I was walking back from the museum to join Jie and Hwa, I discovered that my sister had made a call to Singapore the night before without telling me. She *had* asked me if I could use my phone, but she had refused to tell me who she was calling, so I was extremely annoyed due to the sheer waste involved (using M1's SmartRoam, one can save a substantial amount compared to making calls the normal way), all because of her pathological secrecy, inherited from and decried in my parents.

Our next stop was Lyme Park, used for filming in the BBC's production of Pride and Prejudice. I really don't understand the British obsession with houses and gardens. They're nice enough, but I don't know how they can stand seeing so many of them.

Then we crossed into Wales, where suddenly all the road signs became bilingual (with English placed below Welsh, confirming the latter's status as the region's principal language), the number of hospitals with signs pointing to them skyrocketed (maybe Wales is a dangerous or sickly country) and every other place and person's name started with "LL".

Contrary to what their names might imply, the Youth Hostels didn't have many youths staying in them - we most often saw old people and families with young children. The only one where there were a lot of youths was Conwy, our stop for our first night in Wales, because the St Helens Youth Brass Band (National Champions 1997-2003) was there for their retreat. Of course, this had its disadvantages - I was sitting beside the pay phone waiting for Jie and Hwa to finish watching TV and the phone kept ringing, only for the line to be cut off when I answered it (since the number of the payphone was pasted there for all to see), and looking up the stairwell, I often saw faces peering down at me briefly. Also, they made a lot of noise and were hyperactive, but I was generally okay with it, especially seeing as I would've done the same if I were with a group of friends. Hwa told me that there was one guy using the Internet terminal (provided by the same cartel) who kept putting in money while cursing loudly all the way, "this computer sucks!" and banging the table.

Day 7 - Castle Sighting in Wales

The next day, we went castle sighting. Now, Wales is home to no less than 4 Castles (Conwy, Caernarfon, Harlech and Beaumaris)which have been designated World Heritage Sites under the collective label of "Castles and Town Walls of King Edward in Gwynedd", and that really makes you wonder. First, we looked at the one in the town we spent the night in - Conwy Castle. Unfortunately, it was too early in the day so it wasn't open. After that, me and Hwa walked along part of the top of Conwy's town walls - preserved in excellent condition, yet not restored so much that you know it's restored (ala York). We then drove to Beaumaris, home of Beaumaris Castle - the "most technically perfect medieval castle" - except that it was never completed. The inner curtain walls being higher than the outer ones, thus allowing 2 fields of fire and fire from the inner ones when the outer ones were overrun, were a nice feature. But I wonder what use half a moat was.

Later, we moved on to Caernarfon. The toilet there was too high tech for me - instead of a normal sink, there was a metal hole in the wall. So I stuck my hand in, hoping to get some water to wash my calf, and wondered why so little water came out, and why it was so cold. It was soap. By the time I made this shocking discovery, the water had been flowing for a while, so I had to get more water to wash off the soap. So I stuck my hand in briefly and withdrew it as quickly as possible, but the nozzle was so well positioned that some soap still got onto my hand.

In the Eagle Tower, there was a theatrette screening a video that gave an overview of Wales' history, and of the castles of Edward I. It was good, except for this annoying chap who kept popping up in various garb, presumably to give the video a more personalised touch. Later, I climbed to the top of one of the turrets in the Eagle Tower (the highest point in the castle, I think) and ended up winded. All in all, I really liked Caernarfon (though my all-time favourite is still Krak des Chevaliers, the enduring image of which will always bring a tear to my eye) - it had a good exhibition, was well restored without giving the feeling of reconstruction (I like reconstruction too, but each has its place). Too bad I couldn't take a delicious aerial shot to encompass the totality of the castle.

We then drove through the expanses of Snowdonia. The sheer slopes of the mountains of slate, their tops shrouded in clouds, the rocky crags and outcrops sheathed in heather and sparse scrub or the plunging, verdant valleys - the general grandeur of it all was most impressive. Best of all, it wasn't raining like in the Lake District, so I actually preferred it to there. But again, as with the Lake District, there were no laybys for much of the way so we couldn't stop and take photos at some of the spots with the more spectacular views. Worse, at one point, when I was sitting on a rock in the middle of a river with Hwa, who had expended much more effort, with a great deal more fuss than me in getting there, posing for a shot to be taken by Jie, she couldn't figure out how to take a shot (women!) and by the time I went back to adjust the settings, my camera was low on batteries only 4 days after the last full charge. Amazingly, my backup batteries chose that moment to go flat too, and jiggling with 2 of Hwa's spare batteries to replace 2 of my 4 expended ones did not work, and I hadn't figured out that I could still take pictures by turning off the LCD. So that shot of us in the river was only taken with Hwa's 2 1/2 year old digital camera, with less than spectacular results.

As we drove through Snowdonia, we noticed not a few people had parked by the road and gone hiking in the mountains. Ugh. Apparently mountain hiking is really popular in those parts, as at one point there was even a spot with a car park, a cafe and - get this - a youth hostel (which I bought 4 AA batteries from at the princely price of 4 pounds 99 pence, which even scarier was not far from their price in more civilised areas - I think I could get rich smuggling film and batteries into Europe from Hong Kong).

At one part of Snowdonia, near a rather large town, we found what appeared to be the cheapest petrol in Britain - 70.9 pence/litre. On closer inspection, we found this to be a charade - the petrol kiosk had long since closed, but there was still a Little Chef there. I bet the price was deliberately set at that rate by Little Chef, so drivers would be conned into stopping and eating after they found out petrol wasn't actually being sold!

Our Youth Hostel for the night was Llangollen. There they sold "glowsticks, necklaces and bracelets - useful in an emergency, ideal for clubbing!", had an amusing poster on how to and not to use the shroud, and had internet access provided by another company, which was cheaper, faster and better. Oddly though, the door to our room could only be locked from outside, and not from inside. There was also an irritating pussy which kept brushing against my leg in a vain attempt to get me to feed it.


Misc notes:

Throughout the 2 weeks, Jie and Hwa kept claiming I was chopping consonants off the ends of my words. Partly this is because they are very niao, but I suppose my tongue has become lazy in Singapore, especially during my slavery. Incidentally though, even at my most pedantic, I never corrected people many times a day.

My camera seems to deliver overly-bright images.

The UK must be the only country in the world without Oreo McFlurrys. More's the pity.

There's something about these suspicious Youth Hostel descriptions. York, for exampled, was described as a "soothing stroll" from the City Centre, but we found it to be at least 40 mins walk from there. Many places were described as "ideal bases" to explore certain locations or attractions, but were extremely far from them. And there was deceptive advertising - the picture for Wooler showed a cyclist resting on the ground, with his bike thrown willy-nilly, looking out at the island of Lindisfarne. In the end, it was like half an hour by car from Wooler to Lindisfarne. I guess he was so upset at being tricked by the description that he threw the bike down in frustration and rage.

One of the girls in the St Helens Youth Band had this funky hairband with 2 devil's horns on them.

Hwa and Jie confess they are deprived - they get excited whenever they see a superstore.

I have serious doubts about the power of symbolism. The Eagle Tower in Caernarfon Castle is named such because it has sculpted eagles on top of it, and Edward I supposedly included this to gain the respect of the Welsh, who still remembered the Romans, if not fondly, then with respect. I think that the influence, strength and memory of the "collective consciousness" is very much overrated (Edward constructed his castles a century after the Romans left Britain).

In the 8 days, I kept seeing signs warning of speed cameras, but rarely saw one. I bet it's just a ploy to get motorists to slow down on the cheap.

Youth hostels should allow the truly destitute the sleep on the couch in the lounge for half the price.

The National Trust is really paranoid by not allowing indoor photography. Luckily, that doesn't affect me that much as I'm not that fond of houses.


TO BE CONTINUED