Northern Ireland, Eire (Ireland) and England, November-December 2013

25 November (arriving London 26 November) through 12 December

Welcome to "Dublin's Fair City", as the song goes.

To me, this building is typical of an old, established city like Dublin.

Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde (1854-1900) was born in this house, No.21, Westland Row, Dublin.

A block or so South of his birthplace is Wilde's childhood home, apparently a step up (i.e., a grander house) for the Wilde family. This house, across from the NorthWest corner of the park at Merrion Square, is the current home of the American College of Dublin.

A plaque in front of the house (just to the right of this picture, mounted on the iron fence) rightly and proudly claims Wilde as "one of Dublin's most famous sons".

Dublin's pride in claiming Wilde as a native son, along with this Memorial in Merrion Square Park, just across the street from the childhood home, is a remarkable tribute, considering the fact that in his own time, Wilde was prosecuted for then-unspeakable acts, sentenced in 1895 to two years in Reading Gaol, after which he exiled himself to France where he died in disgrace in 1900. The moral (!) of the story: A lot can change in 100 years, if you can just wait around.

That's Oscar, on the rock, contemplating a statue of a male torso. Off to the left of this picture is a similar statue of a woman.

Here in Dublin, at the entrance to the Castle pictured below, is a whole building dedicated to Sick and Indigent Roomkeepers. They must have had a strong Union.

The Record Tower in Dublin Castle is a Norman construction, which means it has been standing for roughly 1,000 years. The walls are 4.6 metres (15 feet) thick. According to posted literature, the most famous escape from this fortress was in January of 1592 when three prisoners made their getaway through the toilet chute. OK.

This sign advertising ice cream was "visited" by graffiti artists, as the enlarged cutout shows. Average artists of this type would just have drawn a mustache on the unsuspecting boy.

I admit to being a bit surprised at this sign. Think about it: how likely would it be to find an Irish Stew restaurant in Guadalajara?

Details in a city like Dublin are important (apparently). I mean, who knew an apartment-building intercom might cause death?

Dr Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) was famous for writing Gulliver's Travels (1726), but in Dublin he is arguably even more famous for having been Dean of St Patrick's Cathedral from 1713 until his death, and for being a remarkably progressive and outspoken advocate for all the people of his city.

This plaque, near the Cathedral's main entrance, contains the epitaph he wrote for himself, including the defiant, SÆVA INDIGNATIO ULTERIUS COR LACERARE NEQUIT ("Cruel indignity can no more pierce his heart")[my own translation].

In a remarkable tribute, Dr Swift ordered this memorial placed in the Cathedral after the death of his manservant, Alexander McGee, at age 29. Burial in a Cathedral of anyone other than the wealthy and prominent of the city was quite rare.

Dublin City at twilight, looking East from the Father Mathew Bridge

Neon bar sign along "Bachelor's Walk" on the Liffey River --
it was nice of them to welcome me!

Dublin is a lively city in which modern mixes comfortably with ancient.

After taking the ferry across the Irish Sea to Holyhead in Wales, I stayed in the old Roman town of Chester. Chester (and any town whose name ends in "-chester", "-cester", "-caster" or similar, e.g., Winchester, Worcester, Doncaster) was a Roman settlement. The names (and name-endings) come from the Latin CASTRA (plural of CASTRUM), which came to mean "camp", particularly a military encampment.

The Church of St John the Baptist seen here is situated on the edge of a Roman amphitheatre that dates from the Ist century (i.e., roughly 1,900 years ago). The amphitheatre itself was buried and covered with buildings until excavations began uncovering parts of it in 1929.

The front (West end) of the church seen here is much older than the walls behind it. This was Chester's first Cathedral, while the building that is now the Cathedral (about a quarter-mile to the North) was a Monastery.

A wider view of St John's church shows the Medieval ruins behind (at the East end), parts of which date to Norman times (1000-1100 CE).

In the ruins is a most unusual "decoration", a solid-oak XIV-century coffin that was placed there, some say to fill a gap in the masonry, others (including the offical guide employed by St John's church) claiming a clergyman put the coffin there to remind his flock that Death was looming. The inscription says, "Dust to Dust" (which, in old English script, looks more like "Duft to Duft").

Near the end of Queen Victoria's reign, the City of Chester erected this commemorative clock at Eastgate, which (predictably) is the gate at the Eastern end of the city's main shopping street.

Just a short walk North of Eastgate is Chester Cathedral, originally, as noted above, a Monastery. It became the city's Cathedral in 1541. The wood carvings seen here form the Choir Screen, and behind it, the carvings continue along the Choir stalls, rising some 30 feet high. The intricacy of these carvings cannot be described, and I don't think any photograph (certainly not mine) could do them justice. I asked one of the docents how old the wood carvings were, thinking they must have been carved two or three hundred years ago. She calmly informed me that they are XIVth century. Information on the Web confirms that they date to 1380. You do the math. There isn't even a building in the United States that is that old, let alone a stunning work of craftsmanship like the Chester Cathedral Choir woodwork.

The temptation to make a crude joke about discrimination against the women of Chester is almost overwhelming. Pause. Go on.

Until this visit, I never knew Cathedrals could have their own courtrooms. This is Chester's Consistory Court, one of the oldest surviving complete examples. In many other Cathedrals, such courtrooms have been converted into Chapels or other types of rooms.

According to the information board fixed to the wall near the door, in this chair "may have sat the Apparitor, who delivered the orders of the Court".

The Consistory Court today is used relatively infrequently, for trials of clergy misconduct and the like.

Lincoln Cathedral, once on the edge of Sherwood Forest (the forest has since retreated, so to speak), stands on the top of a hill. Legend has it that (long ago, of course) the Devil sent two imps to Chester Cathedral to cause mayhem. One was turned to stone by an angel that came out of a book of hymns (hey, it's a legend, all right?), and can be seen today sitting cross-legged at the top of a pillar in the Cathedral. He is known as the Lincoln Imp. The angel allowed the other imp to escape, and it is said that he circles the Cathedral looking for his friend, which accounts for the fact that it is always windy around the building, even on still days.

Believe it or don't, that's exactly how it was the day I was there. The whole town was peaceful and still, yet there was a wind around the Cathedral that almost made it impossible to walk. I'm a believer.

The West façade of Lincoln Cathedral is unique, and quite difficult for a regular tourist to photograph, especially when half of it is covered in canvas and scaffolding like the day I was there. Even without scaffolding, the town's buildings are very close by, and as the Cathedral is on a hill, there seems to be no vantage point where a single photograph can capture the massive width. This picture is from a Wiki page, credited to photographer Lee Haywood of Wollaton, Nottingham, England. All I can say is, Lee must have been in a helicopter.

Children of Ely: tired of Band Camp or Cheerleader Camp? Why not try Flucamp this year?

Ely Cathedral is an elegant building, and the entrance is only about 50 yards from the inexpensive hotel I found.

This building has a number of remarkable features, but the centerpiece, quite literally, is the Octagon.

It is built over the crossing -- where the transepts meet the main East-West structure. On the outside, the Octagon appears as a short tower in the centre of the building. Windows on all sides let in light during the day.

Most structures like this found in other Cathedrals are round -- the Dome of St Paul's, for example -- but this one is an octagon, with "ribs" that radiate along the columns to the floor. This is just one more example of something that, because of its size and the general darkness inside a Cathedral, is nearly impossible to photograph without special lenses and lighting.

This fast-food outlet in a roadside food-court near Cambridge is unusual enough in that it specialises in Mexican food, not a common sight in the U.K. It's the name, however, that had me rolling, to the point that someone may have called security just to be on the safe side.

As anyone (well, most people) in California knows, "El" is the masculine word for "The", and "Mexicana" is the Spanish word for "Mexican female person". Put them together, and hilarity ensues -- at least for me. No matter how hard I tried, however, I could not explain to these two nice, young Brits why it was so funny. I suppose the closest you could come to translating it would be "The Female Impersonator" -- unless you wanted to get clinical. I ordered a burrito and a diet Coke and went away, smiling.

Spider web with typical December moisture. (Not rain, just heavy foggy dew.) Near Heathrow airport.

London contrasts -- buildings which look Georgian to me, with a skyscraper behind.

Central London churches, at least those that survived the German blitz of the early 1940s, are loaded with history, many of them having been designed by Sir Christopher Wren or his protégés, particularly Nicholas Hawksmoor, after the great fire of 1666. St Mary Abchurch, seen here, is one such church and, like many others, is much smaller than one might expect in such a great city, seating only a hundred or so worshipers when packed tightly.

This and the rest of the churches shown below are in The City, less than a quarter mile from St Paul's Cathedral (which is, of course, Wren's masterpiece). The wood and gold sculpture shown here is referred to as a Reredos, also called an Altar Piece, and was created by Grinling Gibbons (1648-1721), who referred to it in the bill for his services as an "Olter Pees". It stands at the front of the church, behind the altar, and features tablets containing the Ten Commandments of the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament).

Some churches in London catered to those working in particular trades practiced in the City and, like many English churches, memorialised their more illustrious parishioners, sometimes even burying them in crypts below the building. One such parishioner is memorialised in this floor-stone in the central aisle of St Mary Abchurch. If one is capable of finding humour in gravestones (I must confess . . .) one could imagine that this stone commemorates the day in 1699 that Thomas Allen coloured (dyed) some of his Drapes. (Too soon?)

Another small Wren church, right next to a Bank tube station entrance, is St Mary Woolnoth. The pulpit seems to have been made to accomodate a giant, or a pastor with a very tall hat. (Note the Christmas tree next to it.)

St Mary Woolnoth is another church with an ornate Reredos.

St Stephen Walbrook is yet another Wren design, and like the others just above, has a wood-and-gold Reredos on the East wall.

St Stephen Walbrook may be my favourite interior space in all of London. The natural light coming in from its many high-placed windows is nothing short of magical. Sitting alone in St Stephen Walbrook in the early afternoon may be the very essence of serenity.