Greg Wesson's Esoteric Globe

London was at the fore-front of the industrial revolution. By the late 19th century, the city had grown tremendously as people moved from the country-side and agriculture to the city and the factories. The city was bursting at the seams, and thus a lot of money and energy was poured into building the infrastructure of London, much of it still in use today.

Of course, 100 year old and older infrastructure does mean that there is a lot of maintenance that needs to occur. I wander around the city, I often see streets closed to traffic, with signs indicating work with the quaint name of “Replacing London’s Victorian Water Mains.” Despite the rather prosaic sounding name, it is a multi-million pound undertaking to update the infrastructure of London’s water system into this century.

I am reminded of this infrastructure work further today as I try and reach my destination. For anyone who rides the London train and underground system, weekend closures is probably something of a swear word, an indication that travel will be a pain. Much of the underground and rail network dates back a to late 1800s and early 1900s, including this platform at Baker Street, part of the world’s first underground train line dating back to 1863.

Of course, not all the work is due to being really old, as this weekend includes closures on the Jubilee line from Green Park to Stratford (opened in 1999) and the Docklands Light Rail (opened in 1987).

Also closed this weekend, though, was the Victoria line, dating back to 1968. Unfortunately, it was to a station on the Victoria line that I wanted to go. Instead, I needed to transfer at Baker Street to the circle line, riding it around to Victoria station, where I transferred to a Southern Line train service to Battersea Park Station. If there is one thing you learn quickly here in London, it’s to use all forms of transport available - Underground, Overground, Buses, Riverboat, and National Rail - anything that’ll take your Oyster Card.

From Battersea Park Station, it was just a quick walk to my final destination, Battersea Power Station.

Opened in 1939 by the London Power Company, the station was designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, an industrial designer who was also responsible for the red telephone box so associated with London. The plant, a coal fired plant that provided electricity to London, was expanded in 1955 to it’s present form with four stacks in an imposing red brick building.

By 1983 both of the two generators were shut down, and the station fell into disrepair.

For those outside London, the station will probably best be known for appearing on the cover of Pink Floyd’s 1977 album Animals, with a large pink pig floating above it.

Though tethered to the station, the large floating pig broke loose and rose up into the sky. Unfortunately for travellers into London that day, Battersea is below the flight path into Heathrow Airport, and so a large number of flights were delayed and cancelled while the pig floated above London, finally landing somewhere in Kent.

The pig has become something of a symbol for the power plant itself, and had been used in the campaign to notify the public of the free tours and consultations for future development going on this month.

The power plant is quite imposing, a tall, thick red-brick structure with it’s massive stacks. It has, however, been unused for a quarter of a century, so it has fallen into disrepair, the site covered with fallen brick and rusting metal.

Currently, development plans have been drawn up to reclaim the site and turn it into a residential, shopping and business area. The plans are quite elaborate and grand, including a massive clear chimney that will vent hot air and bring in cool air into the “ecodome,” as a heating and cool measure. The glass chimney will tower above the four white stacks of the old Battersea Power Station.

The plans are not without their critics, though, and they aren’t the first plans to redevelop the site. The next two years will be taken up with approvals. Beyond that, plans to extend the Northern tube line to the site to be completed by 2015, and the rest of the buildings on the site completed in a phased development after that.

Still many years before the white stacks with be dwarfed by the glass eco-tower. Lots of time for them to tower over the south Thames.

A few weeks ago Toronto was getting another blanketing of snow. I was standing in the vestibule of my apartment building doing up my jacket’s zipper and securing my hat and gloves. A man walked into the vestibule also readying himself to head out into the falling snow.

“Bad winter, eh?” I said

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “it’s Canada.” Then he turned and walked outside, letting twister of blowing snow into the vestibule and causing a chill to creep up my spine.

“I don’t know, seems bad to me,” I said to no one, before hunkering down my shoulders and heading out into the snow.

That encounter got me thinking, though, whether or not I’d become some sort of softy when it comes to the snow. After all, my usually constant business travel usually keeps me on the road during winter in places that are warmer and less snowy than Canada. This winter, though, I’ve mostly been here in Canada. Perhaps all my travel has zapped me of the usual Canadian stiff upper lip when it comes to the winter weather.

Turns out, though, that isn’t the case. It is a bad winter here in Toronto. Last Saturday Toronto was in the middle of a blizzard delivering another 30 cm – 40 cm of snow, and we’d already had 20 cm earlier in the week. A front page story on the Toronto Star laid out the truth. We were very close to being the worst winter every in Toronto.

After the 40 or so centimeters that fell on Friday and Saturday, so far this winter season Toronto has gotten 189.6 cm of snow (almost two metres!), and is only 17.8 cm away from the all time Toronto record of 207.4 cm set in 1938-1939. With still half of March and the very real possibility of some snow in early April, Toronto could break the record yet.

This is further contrasted by the fact that last year Toronto only got 60 cm of snow all winter, the second lowest total on record. So it’s not just my imagination, it is a bad winter!

Sunday was a beautiful sunny day, so I went out to capture some of the aftermath of Toronto’s latest snow storm.

Snow banks above car roofs. Cool!

The rest of Canada probably won’t think this all that impressive, of course. Ottawa, just a 5 hour drive away, has had 411 cm of snow so far this year, and Montreal has gotten 348 cm of the white stuff. In fact, Toronto is just 79th on the list of snowy cities, and our all time high of 207 cm is just above the AVERAGE snowfall across Canada of 200 cm a year.

Just another reason why the rest of Canada can continue to hate Toronto.

A man is walking down a beach in the sun, his sandals in his hands so he can dip his toes in the warm surf of the Caribbean Ocean. He looks out towards the water, letting the light breeze kiss his face. He is oblivious to the photographer up ahead, and can’t hear the snap of the camera as his image is captured on the digital memory card. Posted on the internet, web surfers come across the candid photo of a man on a beach.

Not all, however, is as it seems. Let us return to November 19th, 2007, and examine the events leading up to the photo.

I am walking along the beach beside the road that leads to Pigeon Point. The beach is a thin strip of sand running beside a paved road, and I haven’t seen another human since passing a few booths selling trinkets about 5 minutes ago. I am wandering along, sandals in my hands and bag (containing my camera) slung over my shoulder, letting the waves run up and over my bare feet.

“God, this is beautiful,” I think to myself, and my gaze glances up from my toes in the wet sand to the sandals in my hands, swinging lazily as I meander along. “Wow, this would make a really cool picture – a guy on the beach with his sandals in his hands.” So I decide to get that picture. However, because I am alone and there aren’t any other tourists around to impose upon to snap a photo, I will have to take the photo using the timer on my camera.

I look behind me, and off in the distance I can see a few boats moored near the shore, and a sliver of the rock breakwater built by the Coco Reef resort. “Hmm,” I think, “I don’t want all those signs of civilization behind me.”

I look ahead of me, and see nothing out in the water except a few white caps as waves crash over shallow sand bars. “Much better if I take the photo when I am walking in the other direction.” So I make a mental note to snap the photo on my return from Pigeon Point.

A few hours later, after lounging around at the beach and the bar at Pigeon Point, I am heading back the same way I came, along the thin sand strip of beach along the Pigeon Point road.

“Now, where should I take that photo?” I mentally check off what I need. A nice background, something with a couple palm trees would be nice, and no signs of human constructions (or, god forbid, other humans). Some place where the beach isn’t too covered with flotsam and jetsam. Some place where I can find a flat surface to put my camera on for the photo as well.

I round a nice looking palm tree jutting out over the water, and see a fence post which has been flattened, but which is still anchored in the ground. The fence post, parallel but a few feet off the ground will make a perfect spot to set up my camera. I wander over, get out my Joby Gorillapod tripod and set up my camera, taking time to ensure that the picture is nice and level. I snap a few test shots, making sure that the lighting is decent.

Once I am sure that the setting looks good, I set the timer. I remove the sunglasses and hat that have been offering my pasty white skin sun protection for the last few hours, and leave them with my bag and my 2 litre bottle of water on the end of the fallen fence post. I hit the button to start the timer, and sprint to get into position.

After running what I think is a decent distance, I turn around, and slowly walk forward, ensuring that my sandals are hanging lazily from my fingertips. After counting in my head to 10, I walk back to the camera and check the picture.

“Nope, no good,” I say. I’m looking straight ahead in the photo, not longingly out to sea as originally envisioned. I reset the camera position, set the timer again, and press the button. Again I sprint into position, and take up my slow amble.

After a few seconds, I go to check that picture. “Nope, no good.” This time, my right hand is up near by face. I take a swig of my water, and recompose the shot in my head. “Okay, Wesson, this time you’ll nail it. Hands at your side, look out to sea, walk with big exaggerated steps so that your foot is posed nicely in the air. Let’s get it done!”

Pep talk complete, I reset the timer and sprint into position again. Returning to the camera, I see I have nailed the shot. “Third time is the charm,” I say, admiring my work. The shot looks pretty natural, like it was captured in a complete and total spontaneous moment.

My spur-of-the-moment photo took a good 10 minutes to structure, plan and execute, but it sure looks good.

At least I didn’t photo shop it, though looking at it, I could probably use a little photographic tummy tuck. If I give the guy in the photo better abs, maybe I could sell the photo to a resort for marketing purposes. Though he’d probably need a little more hair as well to be a real beach body walking along the beach…


An actual candid photo. The tree didn’t pose or anything for this shot.

Right then, dim the lights, time to get started. Thanks for coming over to my virtual place to see my holiday snaps slide show. Let's get started, I'll turn on the projector...

Hmm, seems to be a hair stuck in there. Let me get it out. Alright, who's the owner of this long black hair?

Anyway, here I am in...

...oh wait, it's upside down. Let me just correct that.

That's better. You probably thought I was Batman there for a second, hanging upside down. Hehehe. No, this is me in London. Wonderful weather when I was there - sunny and warm all the time. Hardly seemed like London at all. Where was the fog and rain?

This is my hotel. Very posh, as the Brits would say. They pampered me endlessly, with rose petal baths and massages by thai girls and greek madiens feeding me grapes and... Oh, I see some faces in the crowd are either getting bored, or jealous, or perhaps both. Let's move on, shall we?

In London, they use the POUND as their money, but you already knew that because Adam Ant told you so in his song Goody Two Shoes. You know the one, Write it on a pound note, pound note Goody two, goody two, goody goody two shoes... But they don't have pound notes anymore. Good thing Adam Ant is dead, otherwise he'd have to sing write it on a five-pound note, which flows no where near as well.

What? Adam Ant isn't dead? Ummm, that guy who sang Rock Me Amadeus is dead, though, right? I know somebody is dead.

Anyway, things are very expensive in London. At first it doesn't seem that way, because they say something like "that'll be 2 pound 60 pence, goven'r," and you think that doesn't sound like much. But then you convert it into Canadian money and it's like, almost 6 bucks, which is a lot for a sandwich, especially a soggy sandwich.

First up, the Royal Albert Hall. Albert Hall holds 5,222 people, or 4,000 holes. Apparently holes are bigger than people. I guess that makes sense, if you are going to bury Adam Ant in one.

Across from Albert Hall is the Albert Memorial, which Queen Victoria had build to commenerate the dude she was married to, whose name was Jim. No, just kidding, it was Albert. Anyway, on each corner of the memorial is a different geographic region represented that was part of the British Empire. Here was see Europe. Sadly, right after I took this picture, a staff member from the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA) came along and put the cow down due to foot and mouth disease.

Strangely, the last foot and mouth outbreak happened in 2001, when my Dad was travelling around Britian. Perhaps we Wessons are carriers of the disease. I'll probably never be allowed in Britian again.

Anyway, don't feel too bad for the cow on the Albert Memorial, as the North American corner has a buffalo, and the British killed them all off long ago.

Next I went to Buckingham Palace, which is the home of the Queen of Canada. I understand that she is Queen of some other countries as well, but Canada is the biggest, so you think she'd lead with that. I mean, if you were emperor of Rhode Island and California, wouldn't you mention California, the larger place, first? I know I would.

That's Picadilly Circus. Listen, I understand not having horses or elephants, ala some sort of Cirque de Soliel anti-animal cruelty stance, but if you don't have clowns or acrobats, I'm not really sure you should call yourself a circus at all.

Trafalgar Square, which most impressed me with the fact that the Canadian Embassy is located on the square. Very prime location. Go Canada!

Right then, perhaps London's most famous symbol, Big Ben. Actually, the clock's bell is called Big Ben. The tower itself is just called Clock Tower.

This is Westminster Abbey, which as a half-Anglican I decided I should check out. After all, it's where the head of our church, the ruling monarch, is corninated. Is that a word? So the Queen of Canada (and, I guess, also England) is both the my head of state and my moral compass. Is that a conflict of interest?

This is some travelling fair. Damn carnies...

Just kidding, this is the Eye of London, which was a big ferris wheel put up as part of the Millennial celebrations in 2000. I guess they forgot to take it down.

This is the Tower of London, which many people mistakenly think is a bridge (we'll get to that in a second). Within it's walls are where the crown jewels are kept. No, that's not a reference to Prince Phillips delicate bits, but rather the crown and scepters and such that monarchs like to wear.

When I was in the tower, I overheard the following conversation between one of the guards, called yeomen warders (pictured above, they are so soft and cuddly, hard to imagine that they could protect the jewels, but whatever) and one of the cleaners, called janitors.

Janitor (pulling wallet from trash bin): Hey, someone has been robbed.

Guard: Just put the wallet down mate.

Janitor (not putting wallet down): I found it in the trash.

Guard: Just put it on top of the bin, mate.

Janitor (still not putting wallet down): There's no money in it.

Guard: Put it down, mate! Put it down!

At this point, the guard gently guides the janitors hand down to the top of the trash bin, where the janitor drops the wallet.

Guard: See, they can get fingerprints off it if you don't touch it.

At this point, I'm thinking - do they really dust for fingerprints of pick pockets?

Janitor: Oh, yes, no problem, I'll just wipe off my fingerprints.

The Janitor then takes his rag, and wipes down the wallet. The guard looks very frustrated. Either the janitor was incredibly stupid, or a criminal mastermind who happened to be the pick-pocket. Either way, the guard then got on his walk-talkie and asked to have the CCTV footage brought up of the area to see if they could determine who dumped the wallet. Just liked the palace guards in the middle ages would have done.

This is the Tower Bridge, which is both one of London's most famous symbols, and one of the one's most often misidentified. Either people think it's the tower of London (which it isn't, see above), or they think it's London Bridge. This was not the famous bridge that was falling down, though. That bridge, like all old things, went to Arizona to retire.

While Big Ben and the Tower Bridge will remain London's most famous symbols, the Swiss Re headquarters, also called the Gherkin, is fast on it's heels as a symbol of this modern city. I don't know what Swiss Re does, something with insurance, I think. Though if you want to talk insurance, you need to talk about Lloyd's of London...

...which this picture is not of. Rather, this is a picture of The Lloyd's Register Group offices, "a maritime classification society and independent risk management organisation providing risk assessment and mitigation services and management systems certification."

Both Lloyd's of London insurance and the martime registry both owe their name to a coffee house in the 17th century where merchants, marine underwriters, and others, all connected with shipping used to hang out. The owner, Edward Lloyd, helped them to exchange information by circulating a printed sheet of all the news he heard. In 1760, the Register Society was formed by the customers of the coffee house.

Anyway, the real Lloyd's of London is nearby though. There buildings are very modern.

You can be forgiven for thinking it's an oil refinery. I did.

Of course, you wouldn't expect me to go to London without having a pint in the pub. I was in a pub talking with a local who, upon learning I was from Canada, told me that our portions were too big. He talked about a friend of his who went to Canada and came back 300 pounds. It seems that the large Canadian food portions got to him.

The next day, I ordered bangers and mash in a pub.

I am not certain that 4 sausages with a side of potatos flooded in gravy is exactly health food, but who am I to argue with the nutrional expertise of a drunken drywaller in a London pub.

There are lots of great images of London, worthy of being the defining image of the place. The Tower Bridge, Big Ben, the Gherkin, Buckingham Palace or even a pint in a pub. But I think the two images that best define London today are these...

The big red C, for congestion zone. If you drive your car in central London during the day, the mayor Ken Livingston picks your pocket in the form of a congestion tax. Actually, I like the idea. I wouldn't mind them doing that in Toronto and spending the money raised on improving transit. And while London would be a good example, perhaps not the best. I did have to wait more than 15 minutes for a District line train on Saturday night...

Eyes in the sky, CCTV cameras are everywhere. I think the police of London have my entire trip on tape. They should really think about selling those to tourists. "Hey look, here I am getting pick-pocketed in the Tower of London!"

London is taking a picture of you, as you take pictures of London.

This is my 100th blog entry on this blog. Yay! In celebration, the Overlords of the Internet threw me a party and showered me with gifts. Here I am dressed up and ready to accept my accolades.

Okay, not really. I was down in Orlando, Florida, for a wedding. That's why I was wearing the suit. Try not to notice that the sleeves of my shirt are too long.

It was May 5th, or Cinco De Mayo as they say in Mexico. Cinco de Mayo is regional holiday in Mexico. In the USA, however, the good people at Grupo Modelo (makers of Corona) and Tequila Cuervo La Rojeña, S.A. de C.V (makers of Jose Cuervo) have turned into a big excuse to party.

As the wedding wasn't until 6pm, I decided to have a little early afternoon Cinco De Mayo party myself. Okay, it was just me in a dank bar drinking a double shot of tequila and chasing it with a Corona, but when you have to party, you have to party.

Downtown Orlando was a surprise for me. I'd only once before been to Orlando, and that was just out in Disney World, so I was surprised to find downtown Orlando a little lively. Not super lively, just a little lively.

Here's some pictures from Orlando:

This fountain in Lake Eola is the symbol for the city.

Moss covered trees are common in the Southern USA.

Downtown Orlando - I liked the shiny building.

Palm trees are not something I see often in Canada

Cool fountain in a roundabout just east of downtown Orlando