Captain Cook - A Self-Made Man

Today we visited the Museum for Captain Cook in Whitby. The tourist season in Whitby closed a couple of weeks ago... as did the museum. As with many of the signs in country towns saying ’closed'... 'closed' does not always mean 'closed'.

We went to the Tourist Information Centre and pleaded our sorry story of how we had travelled all the way from Australia to see our Captain Cook...  and our life would cease to have meaning if we could not pay our respects to the great man in his home town. "Well", said Wendy... our new best friend from the tourist information centre, "I can telephone Peter, who has the keys to the museum... he may be able to let you in... but you will have to do all the talking with him... you won't get too far if I do the talking". Peter was putty in the hands of Joye's verbal pleading. "Of course I'll come down and open up for you", said Peter... "Just give me five minutes."

In just five minutes we were receiving Peter's well rehearsed presentation on the life of Captain James Cook. I'm afraid I am going to have to retract some information in yesterday's blog... the holder of the keys to the Captain Cook Museum corrected me when I asked for his confirmation that the Australian government purchased its replica of the Endeavour from Whitby's shipyard. "The replica Endeavour was launched at Fremantle... but on its maiden voyage... it sailed into Whitby harbour to the roars of acclamation from every citizen of Whitby lining the harbour foreshores." I asked if Cook had a hand in selecting Whitby as the shipyard for building all the ships used in Cook's three voyages. "The contract for the building of the Endeavour was settled before Cook was appointed to lead the expedition", said Peter. "Whitby was the centre for building wide bodied cargo boats... and the Admiralty wanted an expedition to last for two years and carry supplies for that period (including live stock)... so Whitby was the natural builder to be approached."

I wasn't doing too well in impressing Peter with my knowledge of Captain Cook... but like a losing gambler I threw the dice once more... trying to redeem my previous losses. I asked if Cook recruited many of his crew from the sailors of Whitby. "No", said Peter, "Recruitment of sailors was conducted in London... and Cook was personally involved in selecting only the senior crew members." I didn't ask Peter any more leading questions after that.

James Cook owes the Quaker religious sect considerable gratitude for getting him started in his career. His father took his family down from Scotland (near Edinburgh) seeking employment. His father settled in a Quaker community... who paid for James to be educated up to the age of seven. Thereafter, he was apprenticed to a Quaker grocer who taught James all his onions.

After some years, James realised that he didn't like onions and asked his father for a different apprenticeship. This was quite a gamble for James... junior apprentices don't get paid... get all the menial tasks... have no status. Nonetheless, in becoming an apprentice to the Quaker John Walker... a merchant ship owner... James landed on his feet. He was housed in the attic of a 3-storey house overlooking the harbour... with half a dozen other lads... and worked as cabin boys on the cargo ships carrying coal from Newcastle to London.

Learning how to sail flat bottomed boats in open water was one of the skills that ultimately resulted in the Admiralty choosing a peasant's son from Whitby to lead the most exciting adventure of the 18th century.

The relationship between merchant ship owner... John Walker... and James became most valuable. For James, friendship with his master resulted in the housekeeper giving James a table and chair for the attic... and a supply of candle wax... so that James could study the books on shipping bought home by Master Walker. In the noisy attic... shared with 6 other boys... by candlelight... James took an interest in navigation.

When France and England found something new to fight about, James offered his services to the Royal Navy... on this occasion, the fight was about French colonies in Newfoundland. Once more James had to retreat to the bottom most rung of the naval hierarchy to secure a position... but because of his extensive experience in merchant shipping... he progressed rapidly through the navy ranks.

While in Canada, he served under a ship's captain who had a modern time piece. You will be familiar with the number of ships wrecked... and the resulting loss of life... caused by sailors' inability to correctly measure 'longitude'... which needs accurate time keeping. Because sailors did not know their correct longitude... their maps were inaccurate... and rocks in the sea kept jumping up in places where they did not belong. This captain had the best time piece in the world... and had developed a 'flat table method' of measuring latitude... so, he had the best equipment and had developed a superior process of making other measurements. Cook immediately saw the importance of this man's innovations and started to apply them with gusto! The mapping made by Cook of the Newfoundland seaboard saved many Canadian lives and are still considered accurate enough for use today. There is a plaque in Whitby from the Canadians expressing their gratitude to Cook. By the time Cook return from his Canadian service, he had the reputation as being the navy's best cartographer.

The rest of Cook's story matches all we learned in primary school. When the eclipse of Venus had to be timed at a location that had been accurately located... "who you gonna call"... a captain who can handle a large flat bottomed boat... a captain who knows his longitude... who could that be other than our own James Cook. There was debate in the Admiralty... concern expressed about the lack of good breeding in the Cook family tree... but the glamour boys of the fleet didn't really want the gig... two years away from the London clubs... going to the southern hemisphere full of savages... and the ship on offer was uglier than an overweight washerwoman! So James got the gig.

The only smart 'blue blood' around was Joseph Banks! He handed over to the Admiralty some serious money to be given room on the Endeavour for himself and his entourage. Banks added scientific credence to the voyage... and made the London community hungry for every bit of information on southern hemisphere discoveries.

I asked Peter... the key keeper... if James had an influential patron who pushed his name forward in the ultra competitive world of naval politics. "No", said Peter, "James advanced on the basis of his raw talent... in being an expert in the areas where the Admiralty needed expertise."

Regarding the death of James Cook in the Hawaiian Islands... Peter the key keeper... would not be drawn on James' state of mind at that time. He acknowledged that Cook died attempting to manage tribal conflict... an area where he had extensive experience... and had shown considerable skill. Peter did point out that some of the diary entries from James immediately before his death indicated a person different from the astute captain making journal entries up until that time.

"We will never know" was Peter's concluding comment.

Henry VIII - the Destroyer

We are at Whitby... a town on the Yorkshire Moors overlooking the North Sea... an historic fishing village with close connections to Australia through Captain James Cook. He was born in a village down the coast a little bit... but came to Whitby to undertake his apprenticeship and form a base for his career in coastal shipping... living here for over a decade. All the ships used in Cook's adventures were constructed at Whitby... probably many of the sailors for those ships were recruited from this town (although we have not had confirmation of this).
When Australia wanted a replica of the Endeavour built, they came again to Whitby. A statue of James stands on the headland overlooking the harbour... in pride of place. The town has a Captain Cook Museum... and we plan to head that way first thing tomorrow.

Whitby's association with Captain Cook forms a nice backdrop to the town... but the relationship is straightforward... no intrigue or loose ends there.

What does raise lots of questions is the gigantic ruins of the Abbey that dominate the northern headlands... the other side of the harbour from Captain Cook. Why was it built? ... why was it destroyed? ... and what would UK be like if the Dissolution (orchestrated by Henry VIII) had been better directed?

I find it difficult to appreciate the religious fervour that swept western Europe (and the UK) in the 11th and 12th centuries. Major landholders gave their most prized tracts of land to the Church of Rome... not just a few people... everyone of wealth competed with each other to be the most generous. Now, the church did indulge in some suspect selling practices... they allocated bits of real estate in heaven in exchange for real estate on Earth... without full disclosure. I suspect the seat on the left-hand side of God was sold to more than one individual... imagine the confusion and displays of ill-temper that would occur on Judgement Day... "Show me your seat allocation pass!" would be a frequent cry. "The Pope gave me his word... I don't need a pass!" would be the popular refrain. The rudeness would make the 1st Class Cabin of Qantas look like a Boy Scout Jamboree.

Just before Henry VIII undertook the Dissolution, monastic orders owned two-fifths of all land in the UK. Within the city of London, they owned double that. Monasteries had a monopoly on nearly every educated brain in the land... the best and brightest (both male and female) sought employment in a monastic order. Many of the Abbeys, Convents and Friaries conducted their business with better management practices than other commercial enterprises in the land.

Henry probably had a point in opposing all this wealth... all this industry being done for the benefit of a self-perpetuating... self-selected group who pretended to have a monopoly on rights to enter the kingdom of heaven. Henry saw himself as a much more worthy beneficiary... and who could blame him?

But the way Henry stole property from the monastic orders shows how short sighted he was. He, and his good mate Thomas Cromwell (no relative of Oliver) listed 625 monastic institutions to be dissolved... 625! Before today, I had thought that these Monasteries and Abbeys were quaint little country churches with a farm attached... perhaps a string of houses for clerics and laypeople. But the dimension of Henry's destruction hit home today... when the size of Whitby Abbey was seen. It looks bigger than Westminster Cathedral... Notre Dame (Paris)... Alhambra (Granada)... and yet you had not heard of Whitby Abbey... right?

I have no doubt that, in its day, Whitby Abbey had rich decorations... icons carrying the important stories of its time... manuscripts that would provide a record of culture at that time. All of this has disappeared... maybe taken into the houses of the wealthy nobility... but lost through careless maintenance.

Multiply Whitby Abbey by 625 and you get a glimpse at the true cost of Henry's ego trip. I despaired at the way the church in Italy and Spain took money from the poor... and poured it into palatial cathedrals. In England, the church did the same exploitation of the poor... but then some clown destroyed all the buildings. Which is worse?

England fell behind Europe after Henry's reign... both militarily and economically. Arguably, England suffered because management skills developed in the monastic institutions were scattered in the wind... lost as an economic advantage... not to be recovered for centuries. If Henry had been as smart as Captain Cook... he could have... should have... taken ownership of the resources and applied them to continue their productivity to his benefit.

To just destroy a business because you don't like the owner seems particularly dumb... moronic!

Beatlemania - Liverpool's Greatest Export

Not since the slave trade.. has Liverpool had such a great sustainable export to the rest of the world. You may remember that Liverpool was the leading UK port... launching 5,000 ships on the triangular trading path... flooding the west coast of Africa with low tech trinkets... in exchange for slaves... who were shipped to the east coast of North America... there, traded for goods and raw materials to supply UK factories... tobacco, cotton, furs and selected minerals. Liverpool boomed with wealth in those days... the number of majestic buildings along Liverpool's waterfront is testament to the wealth generated from the slave trade. You may know that UK was one of the first nations to ban the slave trade from its shores... thereby ending Liverpool's heydays... but actions on rectification for damage caused to people's lives from the slave trade is difficult to see.

Back to more relaxed topics! You may think the Beatles are old news... not here in Liverpool... it isn't! We spent more than 2 hours at Liverpool's most popular museum... "The Beatles Story". For those of us who cut their adolescent hormonal 'teeth' on Beatlemania... this period was emotionally charged... an awakening of brain synapses that have been dormant for decades. We saw many babyboomers with tears in their eyes... staring with adulation at mannequins dressed up as the fab-four.

These homegrown lads were sensations in Liverpool when they were refining their songwriting skills in their teenage years. When the Beatles secured their first recording album from London... many Liverpudlians refused to buy Beatles records... correctly predicting that fame on the larger stage would draw these local lads away from Liverpool. The two night clubs that provided the safe practice stage for the teenagers... are now treated with the aura of religious shrines. Both nightclubs have been reconstructed within the museum.

Brian Epstein seems to be loved as much as the fab-four... Ringo Star is tolerated... he was not part of the early club scene in Liverpool. In the museum's displays, Paul was clearly the favourite... he has come back to Liverpool... after his career... he came back and donated money to save important buildings and set up a school for theatrical arts. George also has a special place in the affections of Liverpool. John is recognised for his creative genius... but seemed to be held at a distance... because of his choice to live his retirement in New York.

We have seen Pilgrims slogging out the miles across Spain... in their desperation to see the holy icons of the Catholic Church. I had difficulty in understanding the motivations of these Pilgrims... until today. My walk through The Beatles Story was a pilgrimage... I'm sure that if some Beatles cleric demand that I progress through the museum on my knees... I would be the first on my knees. 

If you are in the age range of 60-70... I would recommend that you cleanse your soul by making a pilgrimage to The Beatles Story museum.

Huntingdon - an historic quiz

Name the historic figure with the bizarre burial sequence described below.

:-) Died while suffering from malaria

:-) Given a formal burial reserved for Royalty... although was never a king

:-) Buried in Westminster Abbey

:-) Exhumed 3 years later and symbolically executed and beheaded

:-) His head was put on a pike and displayed outside Westminster Hall for a period of 24 years. His other bones were thrown into the 'traitors pit' at Marble Arch

:-) In a storm, his head fell off the pike... and was collected by the soldier on duty. He took it home and hid it inside his chimney

:-) On his deathbed, the soldier told his wife about the skull hidden in the chimney. She gave it to a friend and then it was passed to other friends and relatives for centuries. It was auctioned for sale and purchased by a religious order... who donated the skull to the college at Cambridge where he attended for a short period

:-) Only six people were in the college at the time the head was buried inside the college... and its exact location has remained a secret. Upon the pending death of one of the six people knowing the location... another person is told the exact location of the skull

:-) There is a portrait painting of him in the reception area of the Cambridge college. When royalty visit the college, his portrait is turned to face the wall.

Well... who was this person?

Here are some 'give- away' hints. He was a patriot for democracy... prepared to sacrifice his life for the cause. He signed the death certificate for a king... that was subsequently enforced. He dismissed the parliament he fought to install. On his deathbed, he nominated his son to be the absolute ruler of the United Kingdom. He was responsible for destroying more national monuments than anyone... other than Henry VIII. His campaigns in Ireland poisoned relationships with England... right up to the present day.

Congratulations... you have guessed correctly... it's Oliver... Oliver Cromwell. Well, he really should have been 'Oliver Williams'... but the family had changed its name to the name of the family line who were receiving contracts from the Crown... primarily in the area of tax collection. The name change worked... upon the death of his Uncle (a real Cromwell) Oliver was able to persuade the local bishop to give him the gig. Interestingly, after Oliver's death, the family changed their name back to Williams... to avoid royal retribution on people bearing the name of Cromwell.

Historians have difficulty deciding on the merits of Oliver Cromwell's overall contribution to national development. The Irish are pretty well decided... he was a rotter.
However, he is not short of supporters who point out to the fundamental 'bill of rights' he introduced to parliament. Following Oliver's short reign, citizens' personal rights in the UK were changed forever.

Ely - A Town with Luck on its Side

Just up the road from Cambridge is Ely... a medieval town sitting in the middle of the Fenn... an area of swamp that has now been drained and is very fertile agricultural country. People flock to Ely to see its gigantic Cathedral... its length is 163 metres long... 66 metres high... if you measure a cathedral by the length of its roof... Ely Cathedral is the biggest in Western Europe... it's huge... huge! Ely, on the other hand, has never distinguished itself as a town justifying a big church... let alone a huge Cathedral.

We were keen to find out how a sleepy country town acquired the biggest Cathedral in Western Europe... so we altered our itinerary so that we could take the 2 pm guided tour of the Cathedral. To fill in time, we visited the home of Oliver Cromwell... and listened to an audio guide tell us how nice a guy Oliver really was. Apparently, he does not have to take sole responsibility for banning Christmas... it was Parliament who did it... the audio-guide forgot to mention that Oliver had absolute control of Parliament at the time. The audio-guide failed to list the long list of national monuments Oliver had flattened... just in case they became royalist strongholds some time in the future. It forgot to mention that when Oliver heard a sermon he didn't like... preached in the Cathedral not a stone's throw from his home... he grabbed the keys from the Abbott and didn't give them back for 15 years... the Cathedral ceased to function for this time. But other than these slight defects of personality, apparently, Oliver was a lovely man.

Even in Cromwell's period... Ely Cathedral had luck on its side. If Oliver didn't have the keys to the Cathedral in his pocket, he may well have demolished Ely Cathedral... after the civil war... in the same fashion used with hundreds of other buildings of historic significance.

But let's start at the beginning in 673. The site of the Cathedral first came to prominence when Etheldreda (let's call her Ethel) left her second husband to set up a convent. Ethel was dead-keen on being a nun... she was of royal blood and was forced into a political marriage... not once ... but twice. She showed her interest in spiritual matters when she insisted... with both marriages... that the nuptial agreements must include the condition that she remain a virgin throughout the marriage... an unusual condition of marriage... don't you think? Throughout the years, Pilgrims flocked to the site... because Ethel and her three sisters all turned out to be saints... what are the odds on that? Ethel clocked up two miracles... she shoved her hiking sick into the ground and it grew into a tree... and she fled pursuing villains... took shelter on an island off the coast... and was saved by the rising tide blocking the path of the villains... and the tide remained full continuously for three days. This standard of miracle making looks a little weak compared to the gruelling process our Mary MacKillop had to endure to gain her sainthood.

This giant Cathedral was built at the direction of William the Conqueror. Ely was a supporter of Harold... and continued to be a thorn in the side of William for 6 years after the Battle of Hastings. The Fenn... with its myriad of swamps and complicated pathways... provided protection for Ely militia. When William finally conquered the troublesome town... he wanted to make a political statement. He told his builders to erect a cathedral that could be seem for miles around... just to remind the locals of his awesome power. William had used similar tactics at many other locations. At the time Ely Cathedral was being built, William had 50 other significant constructions under process. He imported his Belgium builders who put the locals to work. Labour was free... so the cost of construction was not so daunting.

I find it interesting that architectural skills in 1076 could construct a building of such magnitude. In the 14th century, the central tower collapsed... it had used wood to bear the weight of the tower... and the quality of the wood deteriorated. The church had plenty of wealth... and quickly replaced the tower... another construction with wooden weight bearing supports. This tower has stayed up... so far. I just hope the maintenance crew are keeping an eye on the condition of the wooden supports.

The biggest test for Ely Cathedral came with the Reformation... when Henry VIII separated the Church of England from Rome's Catholic Church. He seized (illegally) large tracts of church property... England had a network of cathedrals and abbeys that carried the culture and history of the nation. He demolished most of these buildings and used some of the stone to construct some royal palaces... but with many sites, invited the local peasants to use the stone to improve their houses. In those religious buildings that he did not demolish, he demanded that bishops/abbots take off the head of every statue. This was to ensure that the worship of saints ceased... and that the power of the clergy was reduced. If the sculpture included the depiction of elves or goblins... that was OK... their carvings remain undamaged. Ely Cathedral escaped with just the removal of all human images... perhaps because the bishop had a high profile in European politics. Many of the support buildings for the Abbey were destroyed... but the Cathedral remained intact.

This site must be visited if you have an interest in English history prior to Henry VIII... the Cathedral contains so much medieval history. It is the only UK building to be listed as one of the 'wonders of the medieval world'.

Cambridge - Centre for Strategic Learning

We are in Cambridge... a town that has survived on being a centre of high quality training and research. We walked along the Backwater Canal of Cambridge looking onto the magnificent colleges that form the heart of the city. Today, the colleges can generate income by charging the highest fees and rely on a stream of spin-off businesses to offset their enormous expenses. But to establish the colleges and build their reputations for high learning required centuries of generous subsidies from the church and government. You have to wonder... why was so much resource allocated to Cambridge and Oxford... when education standards in other parts of the nation were (generally) grossly inadequate?

Cambridge was started as the expulsion destination for students who couldn't fit in at Oxford. Politics in Oxford was problematic... on a couple of occasions major defections occurred... instances where some of Oxford colleges lost one-third of dons and students over disputes that today, are difficult to understand.

Plagues were good for Cambridge... clergy seemed vulnerable to catching the epidemic diseases... perhaps because they provided spiritual comfort to the sick and dying. The 'Black Death' of 1349 and 1361 wiped out one-third of the clergy. The church immediately opened up four new colleges at the University to train new clergymen, namely Gonville Hall, Trinity Hall, Corpus Christi and Clare. The sweating sickness epidemic in 1517 was particularly devastating to Oxford and Cambridge where it killed half of both cities' populations, including many students and dons.

These colleges were established at a time the English church was trying to embarrass their European political leaders. In the 14th century, English and European academics were starting to translate the writings of Greek philosophers. These writings challenged ideology of the European church, inspiring scientific discoveries and advancements in the arts, as society began to see itself in a new way. These colleges at Cambridge were supported by the Church in the hope of reconciling Greek philosophy and Christian theology that could lead to less centralisation of dogma in Rome and greater latitude for regional interpretation. The English church had no desire to educate the English peasants... they certainly didn't want peasants reading the Bible and making their own interpretations... but they wouldn't mind taking those pious twirps in Rome down a peg or two. As a result, Cambridge (and Oxford ) received a reliable flow of donations.

The relationship between "town and gown" was often uneasy – as the St Scholastica Day Riots of 1355 testify (39 students and townspeople were killed). Goodness me... in Cambridge, students could be overheard talking wicked blasphemy... such things as questioning the infallibility of the Pope... and even worse... suggesting that some of the religious icons were not real! For the safety of the students, walls were built around the colleges with strong oak doors to control access... and students were required to sleep in the colleges. This 'humidicrib' of intellectual intensity delivered outstanding results... not just for a year or two... but continuously over the centuries.

What can we learn from the experience of Cambridge? In Australia, Universities should insist on all students being full-time boarders... and accommodation must be cramped so that students have no option but to keep bumping into one another all the time. Their curriculum must be narrowly focused... so that all students are talking about the same topic. Acclaim must be given to any student who identifies a fault in current dogma... and cash given to students innovating better solutions to current problems.

The Cambridge experience indicates that this learning environment will deliver breakthroughs at a dramatic rate.

Wallingford - Castle of Empress Matilda

English history is always a bit of a struggle... half the time, England is just a province for some European monarch... half the time, England is morassed in regional chaos with no-one in control... like today, for example.

We have been blessed with a granddaughter... named Matilda. Any part of history involving Empress Matilda immediately has our attention.

Last night, we booked ourselves into the George Hotel in Wallingford, knowing nothing of the history of the place and the important role Matilda played in 1141. Over the back wall of the hotel lay the ruins of Wallingford Castle... a plot of land that witnessed many of the important events that shaped British history.

William the Conqueror
After the battle of Hastings, William the Conqueror set about organising the defences of his new kingdom. He constructed three key castles, the royal castles of Windsor and Wallingford, and the baronial castle, later transferred to royal hands, built at Oxford. Our focus was on Wallingford... and over the next 80 years, the castle's defences were gradually improved.

Empress Matilda
Matilda of England... was the daughter and heir of King Henry I of England. Upon the king's death, England entered a period of conflict... called the Anarchy. Matilda had clear entitlement to the throne... but she had married a Holy Roman Emperor... thus becoming an Empress. She had the throne of Germany... that was keeping her rather busy. So upon Henry's death (her father) Stephen of England (grandson of William the Conqueror) said, "Matilda, we know you're busy... don't bother coming back... I'll look after this English lot". Matilda said, "You've got to be kidding... we'll sort out who has the better title for the crown on the battlefield". Matilda had good local support around Wallingford and used the castle as her home base. Stephen put the castle under siege many times... but Matilda always saw him off. In fact, Matilda claimed to have won the fighting for a period and claimed to be the ruler of England for a period of nine months. However, she was not crowned... and had never been officially recognised as the Queen of England. Eventually, Stephen became undisputed king of England... and Matilda went back to being a European Empress. But Stephen did not produce a rightful heir... and Matilda had the last laugh by seeing her son... Henry II... installed as King of England following the death of Stephen... not that Stephen would have cared much... being dead and all.

Oliver Cromwell
From 13th-15th centuries, the castle was owned and developed by many kings and members of court. Wallingford Castle was, for most of the time, a luxurious Palace... but for short periods also served as a prison. The heydays of the castle ended when Henry VIII ceased using Wallingford as his prime location. He took over a vast number of Abbeys... and no doubt wanted to spend his time on his new properties.

The English Civil War broke out between the supporters of Charles I and Parliament in the 1640s... with the king and Parliament maintaining their capitals in Oxford and London respectively... the Thames Valley once again became a critical war zone. Wallingford was a Royalist town, with a garrison established there in 1642 to prevent an advance on Oxford to the north-west. By 1644, the surrounding Thames towns of Abingdon and Reading had fallen and Parliamentary forces unsuccessfully attacked the town and castle of Wallingford in 1645. After 16 weeks, during which Oxford fell to Parliamentary forces, the castle finally surrendered on July 1646 under generous terms for the defenders.

However, the risk of civil conflict continued... and Cromwell decided that it was necessary to pull down the castle in 1652... so as to put it beyond military use... because it remained a surprisingly powerful fortress and a continuing threat should any fresh uprising occur. The castle was virtually razed to the ground in the operation.

Could Wallingford have been England's capital if fate had played is hand differently? If Matilda had won those last couple of battles with Stephen.... if Henry VIII kept the castle as one of his favourite locations.... if Oliver Cromwell had shown a bit of sense... could the glory-days of Wallingford have continued until today... could it have been the jewel of English cities?

New Car Blues - Man! I Feel Like A Fiat!

You know these moaners who go on and on about how car hire firms dud them on rental contracts... I don't want to be like them... yes I do... we feel we got dudded... and it's hard getting used to it.

We asked for a Polo (VW)... and were cast off with a Fiat. My son tells me that the word FIAT is an acronym for "found in a tip". He suffered a similar experience on his trip to Sicily in June. We had handed our beloved "Peggy" back to the Peugeot people and were still suffering withdrawal symptoms when we picked up a hire car at Heathrow. This process meant we were subjected to frontal assault from a high-powered sales lady determined to sell us every upgrade option available from her company. In our attempt to keep her hands off our wallet... we annoyed her... not intentionally... but when we said "No thank you" to the umpteenth special upgrade, I could tell from the foam forming in the corner of her lips that she was not happy. With our heads spinning, we found ourselves sitting in a Fiat being shown the exit gate... with yet another lecture ringing in our ears about our irresponsibility at not accepting her generous offer to waive the excess on insurance claims for a mere £15 per day extra.

Joye and I sat in the car and both said, "Not happy!" hence our latest rental car has been named "Jan"... as in "not happy Jan". Gradually, we have grown to realise that we need to change our mindset... no longer the upward aspirant Peugeot driver with ambitions of one day buying a second hand BMW... no longer the conservative retiree driver foregoing a parking spot because the back tyre would sit on the white line boundary. No! We need to adopt the mindset of the Fiat driver... young... irresponsible... fast... indebted... looking for fun.

To make the change in mindset, we are attempting to write a poem that can illustrate to Jan that we are on her wavelength. Your contribution in either adding further verses... or improving our meager attempts... would be very much appreciated.

Let's go cars! Come on.

I'm going out today-I'm feelin' alright
Gonna put my foot to the floor
Wanna make some noise-really honk my horn
Yeah, I wanna scream and roar
No inhibitions - make no conditions
Let my tyre ride on the centre white line
I ain't gonna act politically correct
I only wanna have a good time

The best thing about being a Fiat
Is the prerogative to have a little fun

Oh, oh, oh, go totally crazy-forget I'm a baby
Flirt with Mercs - block Audi's spurts
Oh, oh, oh, really go wild-yeah, drive'n with no style
Oh, oh, oh, get in the action-feel the attraction
Rev till they stare - do what I dare
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free-yeah, to feel the way I feel
Man! I feel like a Fiat!

This car needs a break - tonight we're gonna take
The chance to burn out this town
We don't need prestige-we only wanna make speed
We're gonna keep our windows down

The best thing about being a Fiat
Is the prerogative to have a little fun

Oh, oh, oh, go totally crazy-forget I'm a baby
Merc's flirt - Audi's spurt
Oh, oh, oh, really go wild-yeah, drive'n with no style
Oh, oh, oh, get in the action-feel the attraction
Rev till they stare-do what I dare
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free-yeah, to feel the way I feel
Man! I feel like a Fiat!

Don't get totally lazy
Can you feel it
Come, come, wake up baby
I feel like a Fiat

(Apologies to the composer of "Man, I feel like a Woman")

Lyme Regis - She Sells Seashells

We are down at the coast today... Lyme Regis... put on the map by an uneducated lass... with plenty of time on her hands... who set about helping her father... supplementing his carpenter's income by collecting unusual shells found on the beach... and selling them to the tourists. Her father died when she was eleven years old. Her mother paid her little attention... provided she did her chores... she could bring home her favourite stones... and store them in the back shed.

Her father taught her that if you struck stones of a certain type, they contained strange designs inside... if you were very careful... you could chip away the outer layer to reveal strange shapes... different to the seashells she found on the beach... and much bigger.

This was in 1815... and the church at that time was still keen to enforce the belief that the age of the earth could be calculated from the bible... adding up the "begattings" listed in the old testament multiply by the first number you thought of... and voilà... the age of the earth was 4,000 years old. The church also had a concern that no animal could become extinct... because God did everything for a purpose... so why would he go to the trouble of creating a creature... only to make it extinct... it didn't make sense. For this reason, this young girl was innocently providing dynamite that would explode the religious beliefs of her time.

Part of the holiday crowd to Lyme Regis included academics... some of whom got to see this girl's collection... and wondered if they were the fossilised remains of ancient sea creatures... heretical thoughts for that time. They asked the young girl to give them some of her best shells... and she willingly agreed. She listened to the academics talk about the shells and remembered every word. When the next holiday season came around and new academics asked to see inside her shed... she happily agreed. New academics wanted specimens the same as they had been shown by friends... and offered her payment to show them where the shells could be found. She showed the the bottom of the cliffs where the fossils could be found... but the academics could not identify the rocks hiding the ammonites... so academics paid the young girl to supply them with specified ammonites.

One day, walking at the bottom of the step black cliffs, she saw a larger rock that turned out to be the first fossilised dinosaur bone to be collected. She dragged the rock back to her shed to show the next visiting academic... who told her it was of no value... so she used it as a seat beside the fire in the shed.

She found a friend in the village willing to spend time to teach her to read and write... she started making notes about the rocks (fossils) that she found. Being young and innocent, she was tricked more often than she was paid for her fossils... but managed to gain enough income to feed her mother, brother and herself.

She started looking for fossils in new areas... a little away from the coast... at the base of another cliff face. After heavy storms, landslides would expose new rocks... and she collected valuable fossils from the Jurassic period. She wrote papers describing her finds and giving her suggestions regarding relationships between different finds... which were likely to be older... whether they belonged to the same species. She was frequently referenced by other academics in their papers... but this girl was not allowed to attend... certainly not allowed to address... the scientific meetings that had became very popular at that time.

The church was most hostile to the interpretations being placed on fossil finds... in her home town, some people were aggressive and threatening to the young girl. She lived a difficult life... but made a significant contribution to geological history.

The story has a happy ending (sort of). The young girl was Mary Anning. In your youth, you learned the tongue twister:

"She sells seashells by the sea shore,
and those shells that she sells are seashells I'm sure. "

You are saying those words in memory of the work of Mary Anning. After her death in 1847, her unusual life story attracted increasing interest. Charles Dickens wrote of her in 1865 that "the carpenter's daughter has won a name for herself, and has deserved to win it."
In 2010, one hundred and sixty-three years after her death, the Royal Society included Anning in a list of the ten British women who have most influenced the history of science.

Jane Austen - A Life of Small Things

Today, we visited the house where Jane Austin completed all her novels... at Chawton... and was her last home until her death at the age of 41 from unspecified ailments... but probably from an infection related to TB... in the year of 1817.

Her fame in 2013 is probably greater than it has ever been. At her funeral, only 4 people bothered to turn up... the minister, the undertaker, the grave-digger, who else... probably the organist. She died in a house located close to the Cathedral... the Cathedral was busy and offered to bury Jane in the only available time slot for weeks... so the family said, "Right Oh... not everyone gets buried in Westminster Cathedral". Her father had been a pastor and two of her brothers were in the clergy... so the family had contacts.

Today, there was a steady stream of Jane Austen fans making their pilgrimage... looking at the desk where she did her writing... looking at her bed... looking at the dining table where she had her meals. Hundreds of thousands of people each year troupe past to show their respects... in contrast to the number at her funeral.

"Why is she so famous today?", I can hear you ask. She was famous for noticing small things. She was one of the first female English authors... and in the first editions of her books the author was identified as "a lady author"... but her anonymity was stripped aside before her death. She was the first author to portray female characters in life-like dimensions... before her, females were uniformly portrayed as retiring, submissive delicate flowers to be admired at a distance. Jane put fizz and colour into her ladies... particularly ladies in the higher stratas of society. She put on paper the energy of vanity, revenge, destitution, pride and prejudice.

We enquired how she managed to get to see high society at close range, when her father was poor... a country pastor who had to farm a few acres to boot... to put food on the family table. This occurred by a most unusual arrangement where a childless wealthy cousin asked Pastor Austen if they could adopt Jane's brother... so that an heir would be available to take over the family estate. Jane's financial circumstance gradually declined following the death of her father (the pastor)... so she had a clear view of poverty. However, when her brother inherited the estate, Jane with her sister and mother were allowed to stay rent-free in the Chawton property. Jane was also invited to attend some of the balls staged in her brother's grand houses... and because of her connections to her wealthy brother... gained invitations to social events in nearby country estates.

Jane never married. We asked if Jane was the marrying kind. "Yes", we were told most clearly. She was fond of a boy in her teenage years... but he too came from a poor family... so her parents stopped the relationship. She also received a marriage proposal from a Mr. Harris Bigg-Wither... a proposal that she accepted. However, the next morning she told her sister that the pain from being unmarried was less daunting than the pain of being married to a partner that you did not love. She called off the 8-hour engagement... and never received another proposal. She lived all her life sharing a bedroom with her sister... Cassandra. They were soul-mates... and correspondence between the two suggests that many of the best lines in Jane's books were phrases perfected in her letter writing with Cassandra.

During the time at Chawton, Cassandra and Jane's mother devoted their lives to give Jane the opportunity to write her novels. In that period, Jane was prolific in her writing. She re-wrote 'Sense and Sensibilities' and 'Pride and Prejudice'... and churned out four more books... all of which were accepted by publishers... but experienced delays in getting the books into the shops. It wasn't until a year or two before her death that royalty payments started to flow.

Probably, Jane Austin's popularity will remain undaunted while our modern society cuts corners on Good Manners and lasting commitments.
At heart, we still relate to the richness of life being made of small things.

Europe - Try to Remember

Tomorrow we leave Europe with winter snapping at our heels... single figure temperature maximums... rain each day... vicious winds lurking around each corner. We do not wish to remember a 'November Europe'. We want to try to remember Europe's kind of September when life was slow and oh, so mellow.

Try to remember the kind of September
when Spain was hot and evenings mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
with Spaniards being lovely fellows.
Try to remember the kind of September
when roads crossed over alpine meadows,
Try to remember and if you remember then follow.

Apologies to Tom Jones (not the singer... I mean the poet). It's a melancholic time... we've seen beauty in all its manifestations ... achievements that were the finest of their age. We've heard stories of valour... of treachery... of kindness... and humour.

We've seen remnants of civilisations that fill you with admiration... we've seen remnants from others that show bad leadership and uninspired vision.

We've seen people in different environments... different degrees of economic wellbeing... and marvelled at how similar people are... the world over. We've seen reactions to a smile when we are being a nuisance... we've seen reactions to requests for help. For those of you who travel to see different types of people... the bad news is... they're all like us... cranky if they think they are being taken for granted... kind and forgiving if they think they are being appreciated.

In the cold, people give you less time... in the heat, people will share their humour with you.

Deep in November it's nice to remember
altho you know the snow will follow.
Deep in November it's nice to remember
without the rain the grass is yellow.
Deep in November it's nice to remember
the heat of summer, cool breezes mellow.
Deep in November our hearts should remember and follow.

Au Revoir Europe.

Reims - Champagne's Subtle Flavours

You can't come to Reims without doing the Champagne Trail... and soaking up the complementary glasses handed out by the Champagne Caves... more so... soaking up the mystique and glamour of this fashion beverage. Well, that was our intention when we set out this morning.

We selected the Taittinger Caves... primarily because they were close to the Reims Basilica... that was also on today's schedule. We faced the prospect of a cold day... maximum of 7°... so we were looking for indoor venues.

Just a couple of comments on Reims Basilica... whose fame and fortune flow from the fact that on that very site... in 495 AD... a young warrior by the name of Clovis... king of the Franks... won a battle close by... and was so relieved to have won... he raced to the nearest place of worship... and gave his soul to the god presiding in that church. By converting to Christianity, Clovis was able to consolidate a string of minor tribes under the Frank banner... that led to the modern nation of France. Patrons donated generous amounts to the Abbey on the site... enough to build a grand church that was consecrated as a Basilica in 1049.
Just like Clovis, all succeeding Kings of France (with two exceptions) have trudged from Paris to Reims to receive the Reims Bishop's blessing... an act that was accepted as the coronation. Now, the Basilica has been stripped of its riches... but still stands proud as an aging... crumbling reminder of the influence this grand lady exercised in days gone by. Again, I am amazed at the resources put into religion over the years. Reims is in the third division of French cities. The town only has 180,000 citizens... but has a huge Cathedral and an even bigger Basilica... not to mention all the local parish churches. When is too many churches enough?

Back to Champagne! It needs a very stable environment in which to mature... constant temperature... around 10° - 12°. For Reims, this control is best achieved by storing the bottles 20-30 metres underground... in high levels of humidity... in chalkstone rock.
In the 4th century, the Romans had dug tunnels to mine chalk... and left facilities perfect for storing Champagne bottles for the maturing process. Monks had the wine business around Reims sown-up with various restrictive trade practices... and had adopted the old Roman chalk mines to store the wine (not Champagne at this stage)... Benedictine monks ended up with the responsibility to keep churning out the wine... an ecclesiastical calling no doubt. In the 18th century, the monks worked in cooperation with a wine family... and the family gradually took over the business from the monks.

If you are a lover of champagne, you may wish to pay homage to the Benedictine monk Brother Jean Oudart... our Taittinger guide hinted that Oudart was a Taittinger man... but I imagine every Champagne Cave claims to be a descendant. During WWI, the Taittinger site was an army command post... you could imagine the list of volunteers to that posting would have been lengthy. In 1932, Pierre Taittinger bought the Château de la Marquetterie from the wine house of Forest-Fourneaux. In 2004 the Taittingers sold the business to a USA hotel chain. The family were shocked to see the changes proposed by the new owners... so shocked that they made offers and repurchased the property the following year.

Now here are some tips to those of you who know less about Champagne than I do... there must be one of you out there.

The size of the bubbles (effervescence) in the glass will tell you the period of fermentation. Big bubbles... fast fermentation. Taittinger has one grand label that is fermented for 10 years... and its bubble streams are made of tiny particles... the premium grade (that we tasted) is fermented for only 3-4 years... and it's bubble size is moderate. The cheap stuff you buy at the corner bottle shop has gigantic bubbles... by comparison. Next time you are served Champagne in a restaurant... call back the waiter and say, "My good man... I cannot possible drink this rubbish... the bubbles are too big". He will know exactly what you are saying.

The subtle secondary flavours of champagne start to dissipate immediately after the sediment is removed from the bottle. Don't hold onto your good Champagne for too long. In the months preceding Taittinger selling its Champagne, the bottles are tilted at an angle and twisted 20 degrees every second day. This allows the sediment to slide down the neck of the bottle. Just before sale, the neck of the bottle is frozen... the cap removed... the effervescence forces the frozen Champagne up to the mouth of the bottle... thereby ejecting the sediment... and losing only 10 cls of liquid... an ingenious technique. I was horrified to learn that the gap of 10 cls is filled with ordinary fermented wine... and they throw in a bit of sugar as well. After all the care taken in nursing the brew to this point only to throw in some rough stuff at the final step... it doesn't seem right!

Tuesday , we leave France for England. We'll be in England at the start of the first Ashes test... I hope I am not made to suffer too much.

Reims - Not Getting Historic Recognition

A question for World War II boffins. Where was the surrender signed at the end of the war... here's a hint... we are currently staying in Reims. You are right... you clever person... the answer is Reims. Nothing is simple and the reason Reims has been largely written out of the history books takes a bit of explaining.

Before visiting Reims, I was confused as to where surrender of the European theatre actually occurred... Reims would not have been my first choice. Many of the minor theatres had their own little surrenders... we are not talking about backyard squabbles... we're talking about the whole of Europe.

I know many of you are dying to get a clear view of the months leading up to surrender, so here is a timeline:

Allied forces began to take large numbers of Axis prisoners. The total number of prisoners taken on the Western Front in April 1945 by the Western Allies was 1,500,000. Clearly, the writing was on the wall... the end was nigh.

Germans left Finland: On 25 April 1945, the last Germans were expelled by the Finnish Army from Finland and retreated into Norway.

Mussolini's death: On 27 April 1945, as Allied forces closed in on Milan, Italian dictator Benito Mussolini was captured by Italian partisans. His farewell was not very pleasant.

Hitler's death: On 30 April... only three days after Mussolini's death... as the Battle of Berlin raged above him, realizing that all was lost and not wishing to suffer Mussolini's fate, German dictator Adolf Hitler committed suicide in his Führerbunker along with Eva Braun, his long-term mistress whom he had married less than 40 hours before their joint suicide.

German forces in Italy surrender: On 29 April, the day before Hitler died.

German forces in Berlin surrender: The Battle of Berlin ended on 2 May.

German forces in North West Germany, Denmark, and the Netherlands surrender: On 4 May 1945, the British Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery took the unconditional military surrender from General Admiral Hans-Georg von Friedeburg, and General Eberhard Kinzel, of all German forces "in Holland, in northwest Germany".

German forces in Bavaria surrender: At 14:30 on 4 May 1945, General Hermann Foertsch surrendered all forces in Bavaria.

Central Europe: On 5 May 1945, the Czech resistance started the Prague uprising. Within three days, Mutschmann abandoned the city, but was captured by Soviet troops while trying to escape.

Hermann Göring's surrender: On 6 May, Nazi leader and Hitler's second-in-command, Hermann Göring, surrendered.

Now we come to the time when Reims attracted the attention of the world. Eisenhower... European commander of USA troops and supreme commander of the D-Day landing... had chosen Reims as his European headquarters... after all, it is the centre of the French champagne region.
On the 7th May 1945, Keitel sinned surrender terms in Berlin. He had already sent Jodl and Keitel to Reims to negotiate peace terms. Thirty minutes after the fall of "Festung Breslau" (Fortress Breslau), General Alfred Jodl arrived in Reims and, following Dönitz's instructions, offered to surrender all forces fighting the Western Allies.

Dwight D. Eisenhower, threatened to break off all negotiations unless the Germans agreed to a complete unconditional surrender. Eisenhower explicitly told Jodl that he would order western lines closed to German soldiers, thus forcing them to surrender to the Soviets. Jodl sent a signal to Dönitz, who was in Flensburg, informing him of Eisenhower's declaration. Shortly after midnight, Dönitz, accepting the inevitable, sent a signal to Jodl authorizing the complete and total surrender of all German forces.

At 02:41 on the morning of 7 May, at SHAEF headquarters in Reims, France, the Chief-of-Staff of the German Armed Forces High Command, General Alfred Jodl, signed the unconditional surrender documents for all German forces to the Allies. Immediately after he signed the paper, Jodl rose in his chair and asked the Allies to be kind in their treatment of the surrendering German troops... the Russian official in attendance may have taken this request with some cynicism.
The whole arrangement was put together rather quickly... and International diplomacy was not observed fully. We saw the room where the surrender document was signed. The German side of the table had 3 chairs... The Allies side of the table was 'chock-a-block' full of middle-ranking American pen pushers. Eisenhower did not attend the ceremony... no one of equivalent rank was on the German side of the table.

The big mistake for the Allies was that the only Russian in attendance was a lower-middle ranking pen pusher who signed the surrender document only as an observer. Stalin was far from happy... his country had done more than its fair share of heavy lifting in ridding Europe of Nazis... he demanded a repeat ceremony be held in Berlin on the following day.

The next day, Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel and other German OKW representatives travelled to Berlin, and shortly before midnight signed a similar document, explicitly surrendering to Soviet forces.

Also, on 8th May 1945, Charles de Gaul and Winston Churchill made their announcements on radio of the unconditional surrender... the same day as the duplicate document of surrender was signed in front of Russian generals. History has chosen to identify 8th of May as the official case date for World War II. Only a few of us... you and I included... know the truth... WWII officially ceased on 7th May 1945.

Restaurant and Bread - It's a Conspiracy

With rain and driving, no photos were taken today... no travel stories came to hand. So, today's rant is another health lecture. Please read only if you are interested in living for a long time.

Who likes a good soap opera? Nothing clarifies the goodies from the baddies better than the drama that occurs in your blood... when you eat bread. Let's look into this drama-packed sequence of activities.

Refined wheat is easy for us to digest... including the whole-grain versions. The bread hits the large intestine where stomach acids supported by bacteria quickly do their job... the carbohydrates are broken free from the other components of the bread... gluten gets broken up into its various protein elements. These components pass into the small intestine where receptors are there waiting to check the molecules offered to them. If they fit the specifications... if the molecule has the shape that sticks to the receptors... the molecule is allowed to pass from the gut (outside the body) into the bloodstream (inside the body). The carbohydrates are allowed into the body as glucose... one of the body's major sources of energy. You may have heard that bread has one of the highest glycaemic index... it packs more glucose per gram... higher than sugar (sucrose)... higher than fruits (fructose).

After eating bread, your blood sugar levels jump very quickly. The body call to the pancreas to deliver insulin... that we need to get blood sugars into muscle and organ cells... where the energy can be used. Insulin knocks on the door of the blood cell and asks if it can carry off a bit of excess blood sugar. In healthy people there is decorum in the way insulin does its job.

It's when you have been growing a 'wheat belly' that things get impolite. Allow your blood sugars to peak... too high... too often... the body gets frantic in asking the pancreas for more and more insulin... the pancreas gets fatigued... and doesn't regulate the amount of insulin as accurately as it should. Insulin also starts to lose patience... instead of asking politely, it starts yelling at the cells to lift their game in clearing the blood sugar. As you would expect, the blood cells don't like being yelled at... they stop listening and don't take up as much of the blood sugar as they used to. The medicos call this change in decorum 'insulin resistance'... the blood cells become resistant to the insulin... blood sugars remain high... the body keeps demanding that the pancreas delivers more insulin... and people suffer illness... feeling as if they are not getting enough energy. Allow this unhealthy balance to remain... and you will end up suffering Diabetes Type 2.

The liver comes to the rescue... blood sugars reaching the liver are converted to fats. Some people find this fact somewhat surprising. As a general rule... eating fats does not make you fat... eating bread (and other carbohydrates) makes you fat. Except for people with other complicating issues... the quickest way to lose your body fat... is to significantly cut your intake of carbohydrates... and provide your body needs by eating more fats... animal fats... but be careful about eating too many cooking vegetable oils as a source of fats.

Act II of the soap opera is to follow the villan of the drama... Gluten.
Your body hates gluten... even if you are not a coeliac. The protein derivatives of gluten... particularly gliadin... make their way into the small intestine... they have no chance of fooling the receptors... they can't enter the body through the front door. The body senses gluten hanging around... and tells it to 'bugger-off'... and gluten ignores this message. The body loses patience... and says, "If you won't bugger-off, I'm coming out to put you in a body-bag and send you to the bowel". A tiny gap opens up in the stomach wall... so that antibodies can be injected into the gut. People who eat too much bread often suffer from an irritated bowl... usually caused by the body injecting antibodies into the small intestine to get the gluten to 'bugger-off".

Now here is the tricky part... when this tiny gap opens up... the sneaky gluten proteins slip in before the gap closes... when one molecule of a gluten protein gets through, it seems to widen the gap that makes it easier for more molecules get through.

No one's body likes to have gluten proteins in their body... they don't belong... gluten is an alien. The body musters its war machine to destroy the gluten invaders. If the numbers of invaders are small, the body uses its ASIO forces to sneak up and put a bullet through gluten's head... no collateral damage. If you have a lot of gluten in your blood, the body calls out the Scottish Regiments... "collateral damage be damned... let's get the bastards!" As a result, your system suffers chronic levels of inflammation. Over a long period of time this leads to accelerated aging... arthritis comes early... cardiovascular disease risks are elevated... but most scary of all... chronic inflammation of the brain leads to a long list of unpleasant consequences... the most frightening being Alzheimer's disease.

You probably like the scary bits of this soap opera... so here is one more. Gliadin can jump the blood brain barrier. It attaches itself to receptors in the brain that are the same receptors used by opiates to create addiction. Gliadin does not seem to affect behaviour as dramatically as opiates or alcohol... it has one major affect... it makes you hungry. You can count on it... 30 minutes after eating bread... enough time for gliadin to work is way to the brain... no matter how much bread you ate... you will feel hungry once more. At restaurants, waiters give you bread... before they take your order... before they give you something to drink... they want you eating bread as soon as possible... so that in 30 minutest time... about the time you'll be offered desert... you will feel hungry once more.

Next time you are in the supermarket checkout what is in the shopping trolley of the people ahead of you. I bet that of the non-vegetable/fruits eatable items, over 75% of the packaged items will contain wheat. Food producers are putting wheat into everything... everything possible... because of the addictive properties of wheat. Read the labels... wheat is now being added into the most unlikely products... to feed our addiction.

The sad part about this soap opera is that 50% of it is true. I have tried to accurately tell the facts that I'm finding in the literature... but I am not a trained medico and will have made many unintentional errors. Also, the rate of research in this area is exploding... and the best science today will be proved to be inadequate tomorrow.

Here endeth the third lesson.

Château de Vaux le Vicomte - Another Great Story

Châteaux in France are like cathedrals in Spain... you've seen enough of them... but you just can't get enough. On this trip we will not visit Versailles... we've seen it a couple of times and find it somewhat overwhelming. This holiday, we are circling Versailles and looking at the Châteaux with strong connections to the kings and queens of France. We've already done Rambouillet (the favourite hunting lodge of many kings) and Fontainebleau (where royalty sought relief from the stresses of sovereignty). Today, we did Châteaux de Vaux le Vicomte... the building that motivated Louis XIV to build Versailles. It's a great story full of royal intrigue... pettiness and extravagance.

Enter stage right... Nicolas Fouguet... a young man of exceptional talents. Very early in his life, he became a close advisor to the young Prince Louis. When Louis became king, Fouguet was given the responsibility of many senior posts in the King's administration... including that of Finance Minister. Fouguet introduced a taxation system that provided Louis with a large and reliable flow of taxation income. Like all good Finance Ministers, he became extremely unpopular... to such an extent that he had to take an overseas posting until the heat died down.

The King missed his wise advise and persuaded him to return after 5 years... whereupon he resumed his position as Finance Minister. In that position, he further enhanced the King's income... and also built a huge fortune for himself. Fouguet decided he needed a country estate... he had lots of good ideas of what was needed to make a chateau charming... and had three contacts with the skills needed to put his ideas into practice. He was friends with a brilliant gardener/landscaper... one of the leading painter/decorators in France... and an outstanding architect.... and these three unified their genius to create a model of harmony between building and landscape that inspired Europe for a century. Fouguet borrowed from the best of buildings all over the world... but produced something that was uniquely French.

After the building had progressed for a couple of years, word started to get around that Fouguet was producing something special. Even the king heard the rumours... and started to worry that the building might upstage the standard he set with his royal palaces... Versailles has not been thought of at this stage. Fouguet was very loyal to the king and knew how to handle his pettiness. "No one can outshine the 'Sun King'", was the line of comfort Fouguet gave to Louis... and continued with his building. After many more years, the Château was complete.

The King had spies watching the building take its final shape... and knew he had been upstaged. His could restrain his rage and curiosity no longer. He announced that he would visit Fouguet's Château on a particular date... with his court... and Fouguet needed to officially open his Château on that date. Fouguet assumed his standing with the king was as good as ever... he was so involved with his exciting building, he failed to notice the king had stopped seeking his counsel and was now listening to Fouguet's enemies. In the best of spirits, Fouguet put the final touches to the Château... all ready for the big opening... it looked spectacular!

On the allocated day, the king and court arrived... all smiles... full of compliments... but totally shocked at what they saw. This was not a building that had grown like Topsy... it was balanced... integrated... full of novelty... full of functionality. The Château was the first building in France to have a reception hall that was circular... of a height reaching the top story. The Château was the first building in France to have a dedicated dining room... all the ceilings were painted by the same master artist... the garden had hidden surprises that appeared as the visitor walked the grounds. The dinner in honour of the king was perfect. The kitchen delivered food of the highest quality... and the newly invented dining room worked just as planned.

The visitors were in raptures... everyone congratulated Fouguet on his personal brilliance... almost everyone... the king made complimentary noises... but inside he was seething with anger. No one was allowed to be more brilliant than the king... but in building such a special Château, Fouguet had dared to allow such a comparison to be made.

Fouguet went to bed at 2:00 AM that morning absolutely delighted. The king stayed up just a little longer... to make sure his prepared plans to arrest Fouguet were put into action. A special court had already been assembled in Paris. Within a week, Fouguet was behind bars... and remained in a penitentiary for the rest of his life.

The next move by the king was to meet with the architect... point out mistakes made by Fouguet in out shining the king... mentioned the punishment metered out... and named a few people who had assisted Fouguet to make those mistakes. The king then asked the architect of he could build a palace far more grand than the Château de Vaux le Vicomte in the grounds of Versailles.

That is how and why Versailles grew to be the first Disneyland ever built.

Fontainebleau - Insights into Regal Life

Today, we did Fontainebleau Châteaux with Ann and Doug... the sun was shining... the wind abated... a perfect day for seeing one of the major tourist attractions of Europe. "What about Versailles", I can hear you ask. In terms of size and lavishness, Fontainebleau does not compete... in terms of celebrity glitter, it's way behind. But in terms of where royalty (including emperors) preferred to live, Fontainebleau wins hands down.

Our friend Barry explained the difference between the two venues... Versailles has kitch... Fontainebleau has soul. Even Napoleon I, who didn't mind the celebrity lifestyle liked Fontainebleau for living and Rambouillet for relaxing... no time for Versailles... and who can argue with a man of impeccable taste?

Napoleon certainly made his mark on Fontainebleau... but was sensible enough to leave the marks made by many of his predecessors... the place 'reeks' of history. The older château on this site was already used in the latter part of the 12th century by King Louis VII, for whom Thomas Becket consecrated the chapel.

Fontainebleau was a favourite residence of Philip Augustus (Philip II) and Louis IX. The creator of the present edifice was Francis I. His building efforts still existing today as the Gallery of Francis I... with its frescoes framed in stucco...  built between 1522 and 1540... and was the first great decorated gallery built in France. Versailles can't match that for history!

Napoleon left lots of decoration in various rooms.. typically featuring his beloved "bees and beehive" motifs. There is a long gallery featuring portraits of the family members he appointed Kings and Queens to various principalities. Eventually, he regretted being so generous in elevating his relatives from the obscurity of Corsica. In his resignation as Emporer, he commented that as soon as he titled one of his relatives a king or a queen, they immediately commenced working to reduce their dependancy on him. He could no longer count on their support in conflicts. Still, to rule a region as big as Europe, he needed some form of governance... and nepotism was the fastest one to implement.

Broadly speaking, at Fontainebleau the Renaissance was introduced to France. Another great hall at Fontainebleau is the Salle des Fates... built in the reign of Henry II, and decorated by the Italian Mannerist painters.

Some interesting facts coming from today's visit!

First, it was the practice of French royalty for the Queen to give birth as a public performance... not for everyone... just those of acceptable social status. The objective was to ensure no slight of hand in producing heirs to the throne. Without the benefits of modern blood tests, it befell noblemen to study the Queen at birth and see the heir actually emerge. You can't be too careful when it comes to maintaining the proper blood lines.

Second, the queen's boudoir was also a public place. For many years, the Queen had an area immediately surrounding the bed fenced off. That was done away with for a couple of decades... but was introduced during the periods of the emperors.

Third, Napoleon liked many of the formalities of the military. One he retained at Fontainebleau was to receive audiences while he bathed. Tony Abbott could well introduce this practice in Australia... to get a better pay-off for the investment he has made in maintaining a good physique.

The richness and splendor of Fontainebleau, again brings to question the resources foregone... by going overboard with regal riches. Ostentatious displays of riches undoubtedly was effective in influencing colleagues and intimidating opponents. But what other advances would have been possible if the manpower employed in Fontainebleau was applied to other dimensions of nation building?

Paris - Wet and Windy

It is now 2:30 PM... the temperature has peaked at 9°... the sun has taken a day off... the rain is making up for the 6 months of drought we have enjoyed to date... the wind keeps blowing our cheap umbrellas inside out. Parisians are cramped into restaurants biding their time until their next appointment. We are doing the same... filling in 3 hours awaiting the arrival of the EuroStar train from London... carrying Ann and Doug... for their carefree Paris jaunt. We were planning on sightseeing, but the weather has not cooperated.

I can recall lots of songs of Paris... but it's difficult recalling one portraying cold colourless skies... car drivers cranky at the slow progress through the congested streets. Ok, there is the song "I Love Paris" that has a brief mention of loving "Paris in the winter when it drizzles"... but that is just one word "drizzles" in a multi-verse song of love and brightness and carefree nativity... not full disclosure... if you ask me.

Someone has to put this wrong to right. Someone has to write lyrics including reference to "I love Paris when the 'eco drive clock' in my car shows we have been stationary for periods totalling 30 minutes to get from the outskirts of Paris to its centre." "I love Paris when the passing car sprays water over us that runs down and wets the inside of my shoes." "I love Paris when six layers of clothing is not enough". "I love Paris when every seat in the restaurant is full... and the air hasn't a trace of oxygen left". "I love Paris when the pretty girls push you aside in the rush to the next weather shelter". Come on all you creative types... get to work on a hit single conveying these thoughts!

We will be staying with Ann and Doug just outside of Paris in Fontainebleau. Everyone has done Versailles...  Fontainebleau is the next step down in celebrity housing... still far better than the hunting lodge of Rambouillet... where we stayed for the last two nights. We are hoping for good weather so we can walk the lanes and view other dairies.
The Spanish robbed their poor to build magnificent cathedrals... the French are not quite as wasteful in church expenditure... but they made up for this shortcoming with the amount spent on royal palaces. Either way, the poor lost out... not much spent on Medicare or curbing and guttering.

The train has arrived on time... split second accuracy... Ann and Doug are in fine spirits... the evening traffic was challenging so we set out straight away for Fontainebleau Country Club... sounds grand... we arrived in darkness... so can't verify its grandeur. We did pass some very grand residences along the way... so the Chateaux may indeed be grand as well.

Rambouillet - Napoleon's Favourite

Here we are at Rambouillet... less than 50 klms from Paris... part of a circle of pleasure domes around Paris that rulers used for weekend entertainment. The Rambouillet chateaux was a favourite of Napoleon I... he stayed here waiting for his expulsion to St Helens island.

Here are two bits of information on Napoleon you may wish to tuck away in your 'grey matter'.

First... he was not a big eater... he did not organise formal occasions to include the dining table... he rarely sat down for his meal... preferring to stand and complete each meal in less than 10 minutes. The typical pose for Napoleon shows him with one hand on his stomach... not because he had a gammy arm... but because he wanted to show the world the great shape of his stomach.

Second... he had a fascination with bees... kept hives all over the country... and decorated his houses and clothes with bee and hive symbols. At Rambouillet, he had a fresco showing bees painted above his bath.

Rambouillet was originally excellent hunting territory... which attracted the early Kings. A moat was built around the property for defensive purposes... it was altered into a beautiful lake when defense ceased to be a concern. One of the kings imported specialists from England to build formal gardens. This place is no match in grandeur with Versailles... but many kings loved to escape to Rambouillet for its relaxing informality.

Charles De Gaul used the chateaux as his headquarters immediately after the Normandy landings in WWII. In recent times, French presidents have used the chateaux to entertain some foreign heads of state... including Putin of Russia... European leaders met here to sort out their response to the Bosnian crisis... today, some rooms are kept prepared for government use... the locals made it sound like senior ministers use the place for secret assignation... nod nod wink wink... know what I mean... say no more.

The most charming stories we heard today had to do with Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette. Louis like the place... but Marie-Antionette did not... she preferred the celebrity lifestyle of Versailles. She wouldn't come to Rambouillet. Louis renovated the chateaux in a style attempting to match Versailles... some exquisite wooden panel carvings painted white with gold trim... nice... real nice. He had a special boudoir built for her in the most prominent position in the chateaux... still, she wouldn't come.

Louis knew of the love of nature Marie-Antionette had developed... she apparently saw a flower and liked it. Louis, set about building her a dairy... not exactly the same type of milking bails that Joye grew up with... this one had tilers imported from Spain... the national sculptor was pulled off his current assignment to carve outstanding marbles depicting the wonders of nature... the glorious edifice took 7 years to build. Twelve hundred pieces of porcelain were commissioned for the dairy... a fountain was installed... supporting out-houses were constructed to allow entertainment of groups numbering 60 guests...this dairy now makes an impressive museum... everything done to exacting standards.

The dairy did the trick... Marie-Antionette agreed to visit Rambouillet. She settled her belongings into the chateaux... rode a carriage the 1 klm to the dairy... walked inside... did a circuit of the quaint building... walked out again... and never returned. You have to admire the girl's style... and front. You may recall that she identified the solution of food shortages in Paris... when told that the masses were starving because they couldn't eat bread... her solution was so obvious... "If they cannot eat bread, let them eat cake"... brilliant!

One by-line to Rambouillet's story... when Napoleon fell in love with the place he added more technology to the dairy. Josephine preferred her milk to be chilled. Napoleon ordered that small fountains of water from a cold spring be constructed under each of the serving bowls of milk. We were not told how many times Josephine visited the dairy.