Englishness

It was a thoroughly English day. The weather was great by English standards – 23 degrees and light cloud, but the sun was peeping though every so often. Some friends and I were booked onto the 11:30 tour of the Houses of Parliament. This was one London landmark I had never managed to get inside. I pass it pretty much every day on my way to work and after almost 2 years the sight of the overly fussy neo-gothic monstrosity with the unnecessary Victoria Tower at one end and oddly proportioned Clock Tower (Big Ben is the bell dammit!) at the other, still makes me smile.

Like all great democracies the British Parliament takes a summer holiday - an 82 day recess according to the tabloids, aghast (as they are every year) at the fact the MPs should be able to take time off (it does give them time to clean their moats I guess).

It also means Parliament is open to visitors. For the princely sum of £11.70 you can book yourself a place with the hoards and take a tour.

Lets get the details out of the way first. It is just as fussy inside as out and the whole time I was there I was expecting to see Penelope Keith sitting on a green bench in a corridor debating 90s post Thatcher, Labour ambitions with the party Whip …and the building is small. It was much more intimate than I expected! But I am skipping ahead…

We joined the queue (there is always a queue) at the Visitor’s Entrance at Cromwell Green and waited patiently to proceed through the security checkpoint under the stern gaze or Oliver himself. Standing on his plinth with a solitary Lion, he cuts a bit of a strange figure considering the way things turned out, but I guess if there is to be a statue of the man it should be outside Parliament.

Past security and we were into New Palace Yard and looking up at the Clock Tower sparkling in the momentary sunshine above a framework of bright steel scaffolding covering the Common façade facing the Yard. An English historic monument isn’t complete unless it has a bit of scaffold on it somewhere – generally a nice prominent place that gets in the way of a good photograph.

From the bright Yard we were ushered into the dark, gloomy depths of Westminster Hall. The 11th Century Hall is vast and has been at the heart of Parliament since it was first called in the 13th Century.

We queued again to await our tour guide and were eventually joined by a bubbly and remarkably loud woman who declared that she had the honour of showing us around and to stay close so we didn’t get lost in the building which has 1000 odd rooms.

The tour proper commenced in the Norman porch adjacent to the Sovereign’s entrance under Victoria Tower and for the first part followed the route taken by the Queen when Parliament is opened.

We stopped for a while in the Robing Room, strolled through the Royal Gallery with its enormous paintings of Waterloo and Trafalgar, into the Prince’s Chamber (the anteroom to the House of Lords) and then into the House of Lords. The House of Lords is not a big space and could never seat the more than 700 peer who are entitled to be present there and has no chance with the MPs from the Commons who try to cram in for the Queen’s Speech. It is a quirky space too, with its 3 sacks of wool from all over the Commonwealth representing the wealth of the Empire sitting directly below the gilt splendour of the Sovereign’s Throne.

The tour continued out of the House of Lords, into the Peer’s Lobby, the Central Lobby - overlooked by the patron Saints of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland – the member’s Lobby and into the House of Commons.
Destroyed by a bomb during the second world war the Commons was rebuilt as a gift of the Commonwealth nations, the back of the Speaker’s Chair showing it was a gift of the people of Australia. The Commons, like the Lords is a narrow and relatively intimate space. Churchill, tasked with rebuilding the room after the war had the chance to enlarge it, but chose not to, so as to keep the atmosphere exciting and at close quarters. He also chose to leave the arched stone portal at the entrance ragged and broken from the damage cause by bombing, as a reminder to future MPs who entered.

Had we not stopped often the walk from Lords to Commons would have taken about 30 second. Not a great distance. The corridors of power in Britain are not overly grand. The building, despite its ornate finish – especially on the Lords side – has a human scale. It does not have huge impressive spaces like the US Capitol or the vast entrance of Australia’s Parliament House. It is a place for people to meet and to work. It has a comfortable, well worn feel - nothing too fancy – rather British really.

The tour finished back in Westminster Hall where it had begun and we clambered out of the medieval darkness into the English summer.

We were all a tad hungry, so on a recommendation from my parents some weeks before, headed to a restaurant in St James Park – Inn the Park. The food has a distinct organic tendency (as do the drinks) and is quite excellent. The view over the lake and park was lovely as we ate drank and chatted. After lunch we plonked ourselves down in front of a brass band, had a ice-cream and decided this was what the English summer should be like all the time.

342 Miles

The day started early and typically Scottish - overcast grey skies and a light, but cool breeze blowing. Just before 7:30am we drove out of the drive of the quaint little cottage we are staying at near the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town of Saline somewhere across the Forth, and slightly North-west of Edinburgh.

We knew the day we had planned was an ambitious one but being a family which has enjoyed more than a few driving holidays we didn’t think it beyond us.

The first leg of the journey was the cross country haul to Alexandria. We slipped through Stirling and set out across the lowland plains toward Loch Lomond. The closer we got to the Loch Lomond the prettier things became (in fact we seemed to be driving in the right direction all day as the scenery just got better and better and so did the weather).

Our first stop for the day was in a park in the tiny town of Tarbet on the edge of the Loch commanding what would have been a fine view of Ben Lomond had it not been shrouded in cloud. Tarbet boasts a fine view of the mountain (apparently), a charming green park falling away down to the water’s edge and a rather grand, stone turreted Victorian Hotel. If there was anything else we didn’t see it. So, a cup of tea and a biscuit later we were back on the road. Next Stop, Fort William.

Well, not quite the next stop. We pulled off the road at one stage to admire a truly spectacular view (along with several coach-loads of Spanish tourists). The outlook was supplemented with the serenading of a lone Piper. The open hillside offering a cooling breeze for any man daring to wear a kilt… but then, that’s what the Scots do isn’t it?

Having pretty much crossed Scotland we turned north and started our long drive up the Great Glen heading for our next stop. Fort William is perched on the edge of Loch Eil (or was it Loch Linnhe? It can be a tad hard to figure out where one starts and another finishes!). Apparently the town offers a nice view of Ben Nevis. But alas we were again beaten by the clouds. We spent 15 minutes wandering along the High Street and, having seen pretty much everything the town had to offer, climbed back in the car and headed for our next stop… and lunch!

So, we drove ever northward, along the edge of Loch Lochy and Loch Oich and on to the southern most point of Loch Ness…not a monster in sight. Lunch was on a terrace overlooking Urquart Castle. That makes it sound rather more grand than it actually was. The terrace was somewhat sparse and lunch consisted of a roast beef roll. But the view over the ruined castle to the dark waters of Loch Ness was worth savouring for few minutes. We spent a little while after lunch clambering over the castle (me being particularly pleased with Grant Tower) before settling back into our venerable Ford Focus and making a break for Inverness.

If you are travelling in Scotland and happen to be in the area of Inverness and have the opportunity of visiting the town… don’t. With the possible exception of Limerick, Inverness is the most charmless place I have been in Western Europe. We tried to find a high street to stop for a few minutes, but the streets of Inverness funnelled us into the underground car park of a shopping mall. We stood for 5 minutes in the soulless expanse of chain stores before paying our £1.60 to escape from the car park and return to more scenic places. Maybe we missed the nicer parts of town, but we didn’t stay to explore further.

Thankfully more scenic places are not hard to find in the Scottish Highlands. 15 minutes out of Inverness we stopped at the Culloden Battle fields. The site of the demise of Jacobean army at the hands of the Government in 1746. The battle field has been preserved with flags and markers showing the lines of the approaching forces and an excellent interpretive centre to guide you through the events of the day and the politics that caused it all to happen. We could have spent a lot more time wandering about but we had a few more miles to cover and couple more sites to see.

A friend, and self proclaimed Scotland fanatic, had told us that Pitlochry was a delightful little town and should be visited. Margaret’s advice is generally pretty spot on when it comes to travel in the UK, so rolling down the A9 through some truly spectacular scenery we headed that way. We took a brief detour on the way to see Blair Castle (apparently the most visited historic house in Scotland). Unfortunately the Castle was closed by the time we arrived, but we had the pleasure of a short walk in the grounds to take some photos and of watching a wedding party arrive the evenings reception.

Pitlochry really is a charming little town. Thankfully the A9 now diverts around the town leaving the town centre for people. We strolled along the high street, bought some post cards and stocked up on provisions (mostly beer and wine) at the little supermarket.

The day was running out at this stage and with an hours drive still ahead of us we decided it was time for home. All in all we were almost 12 hours on the road and, as you might have guessed, covered 342 miles and a fair portion of Scotland. We slept well.