Much debate about how best to get there with Network Rail, who seemingly wanted to maximise our time in their part of the system, suggesting that we change at Vauxhall to go to Highbury & Islington, from there catch a south bound overground train to Moorgate and from there change onto the northern line north bound to Old Street. We were not impressed and decided that changing at Stockwell onto the northern line northbound worked better, which it did, getting there in good time to take tea and cake in the basement. Cake being rather a good confection of sponge, coconut and raspberry flavouring; another variation on the Bakewell tart, less the white icing.
On into the hall where, in due course, we learn that a consort consists of three pairs of viols, very roughly corresponding to violin, viola and cello. Number of strings varied, but always more than four. Instruments all played vertical, on or between the knees. Bows all played under arm.
Seating arrangements the reverse of that of a string quartet, with large to the left and small to the right. On the other hand, the piano stool for the first violin retained its left-most position. And while I believe that the right-most viol was the leader of the group, the viol next to him appeared to have charge of the extensive and regular tuning that was needed and also appeared to have something of the role of conductor. But this last may have been my imagination.
I remarked at reference 1 how one needed to pay attention to Haydn and this was even more true of these viols. They were not loud instruments and one needed to listen closely. Reading about them in Chambers afterwards, it seems that viols were very much part of the home scene for the better class of urban family in their day, with the chest of viols filling the role later filled by the upright piano. They were big in England in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, in part because of the suppression of royal and public music during the interregnum, but it was not clear why they had lost out to the usurping violin family by the end of the period. The only factlet I can come up with is that the violin, with its shaped bottom, was probably rather more expensive. Apart from the irrelevant factlet that the viol was one of the instruments that Samuel Pepys could play,
Altogether, an interesting experience.
Out to lunch at Jane Roe's kitchen, busy with a mixture of tourists like ourselves and white collar workers. Inter alia, the best beefburger I have had for a while. I wasn't asked about rarity and I didn't think to say, with the result that it was a lot rarer than I am used to - but very good for all that. See reference 3.
On exit, continued down Whitecross Street, in time to catch a chinook turning at the end of its patrol line, presumably over the Mosi visit. I was reminded that I had wondered once how they get the SAS types down out of them when the fat gets into the fire, to be told that such people make such a big number out of how tough they are, you can just push them out of the back. Perhaps in real life they would hover a hundred feet up and slither down ropes. More mundanely, the cheese problem - Epsom Waitrose having run out of Lincolnshire Poacher - was solved by the Whitecross Street Waitrose having some. We also learned that Whitecross Street market, now mainly given over to street food (causing me to ponder once again on the fickleness of food fashions, which have swept us out of comfortable and hygienic restaurants, out onto the street), used to be known as Squalors' Market, which reminds me in turn of a late nineteenth century novel, set in the area, at that time mainly a large and notorious slum. See reference 2.
Called in at the Barbican to find that their fine garden is still closed to the public, except on Sundays, that Richard II, starring Dr. Who, was sold out hours, if not minutes, after the run went on sale and I had to settle for Henry IV Part I, a good reliable play, less likely to be camped up than Richard II - but also a pity as I have always had a soft spot for this last. In any event, it will be the first time that I have been to anything at the Barbican - other than Wikimania - for a good while. Quite a few years I should think, probably not since records began in October 2006.
Back through an imposing forest of shiny new buildings to Moorgate where we entrained. On the way taking in a chunk of steel girder, the like of which I have not seen since admiring the curved steel girders under the bridge over the Tennessee at Chattanooga. A girder which must have stood two or three feet high and have been made of steel well over an inch thick. On the other hand, the girder was not very long at all. In fact, not at all clear what it was doing there at all.
Reference 1: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/11/the-hunt-for-new-rain-coat-begins.html.
Reference 2: http://pumpkinstrokemarrow.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=nether+world.
Reference 3: http://janeroekitchen.london/.
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