Oh, The Places We've Seen: Part 3

As I said in Part 2, London falls outside the itinerary for this year's trip to England. But there were many great sites we visited, and as we plan out this year's trip, I thought I'd share some of special moments with you.

Two of our favorite British sitcoms (or, if you prefer, Britcoms), are "Yes Minister" and its sequel "Yes, Prime Minister." As in the United States, the British Prime Minister lives and conducts business with politicians, civil servants, and world leaders from his home in the nation's capital. 10 Downing Street isn't like the White House: it's just a row house, connected to other row houses in Whitehall. While I didn't expect the grandeur of the White House, on our first trip to England I had hoped to get a clear view of the doorway through which James Hacker, Bernard Wooley, and James Hacker came and left. Sadly, the home of the British Prime Minister doesn't make for a very good photograph, at least not for the casual overseas visitor. 

Unless, that is, you like photos of guards with guns. Then it's awesome.

Oh yeah, show me that heavy artillery! Yes!!!

This year, we've been watching another Britcom that was recently released on DVD. It's called "No Job For A Lady," and stars Penelope Keith, best known for her role as Margot Ledbetter on "Good Neighbors" and Audrey fforbes-Hamilton on "To The Manor Born." In this series she plays Jean Price, a member of Parliament for the Labour Party. She sees herself as an ordinary woman: a woman for the people and of the people. She's not rich, nor does she readily align herself with businesses, unless she's sure the result will be to help the poor and needy. She doesn't even own a car. She rides her bicycle into London each day, chains it to the fence outside the Palace of Westminster, and goes into the House of Commons, where she meets with other politicians and the people she represents. 

"No Job for a Lady" may not be as important as "Yes, Minister" and "Yes, Prime Minister," but it shines a bright light on the life of the ordinary, lowly MP. Yes, that's right, I said lowly. As a member of the Labour Party, set before Tony Blair's big win in 1997, Jean Price serves in the Opposition. Consequently, she and her fellow Labour MPs hold little power beyond influence. Still, through grit and determination, Jean Price manages to get some good things done, while working in one of the most beautiful buildings in the world.

On our most recent visit, in November 2013, we walked the streets of London dressed in our thick jackets, with knitted hats covering our heads and gloves on our hands. Between sites of interest, we hopped on the bus, and enjoyed a few brief moments out of the cold and the wind. One day, we decided to try something different, and boarded a water taxi instead. This allowed us to see the Palace of Westminster as many other visitors and locals see it: from the River Thames. 

As for the Daleks, the water taxi ride allowed them to relive a moment of glory, when their fellows invaded London and ruled the world, in the classic Doctor Who story "The Dalek Invasion of Earth." 

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links
Watch the trailer for "No Job for a Lady"

The Dalek Invasion of our World

I’ve always loved the Dalek stories, particularly the serials from the 1960s and ‘70s.  Those of you who’ve followed my blog know that I used the Doctor Who story “The Dalek Invasion of Earth” as a paradigm to understanding the importance of various places and landmarks during our visit to London in 2011.  I suppose it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the Daleks invaded our home last year, but then, one can never fully anticipate the future. 

Through the entry portal of my wife’s knitting needles, Daleks of different color schemes (and hence holding different ranks and positions within Dalek society) began appearing in our living room.  A gray Dalek was swiftly followed by black, yellow, pink (Pink?), and even a red Dalek, featuring an arm with pincers instead of a sucker from the AARU movie “Dr. Who and the Daleks.”  Instead of bending us to their will through force and oppression, these Daleks conquered us with their cuteness.  My wife forged a particularly strong relationship with one, whom she brought along on last year’s trip to Yorkshire and Wales.  He forced his way into photographs at various stops along the way, and a slideshow of these now plays whenever her laptop sits idle for too long.

A "Last of the Summer Daleks" moment outside Holmfirth.

Prospecting for future mining operations at Aysgarth Falls,
in preparation for "The Dalek Invasion of Earth." 

While I rest at our hotel near Thirsk, I am guarded by
"All Daleks Great and Small."

Another "All Daleks Great and Small" moment,
this time up above Askrigg.

"The Dalek Who Went Up a Hill,
But Came Down a Mountain."

Late last year, my wife mailed a Dalek to a friend of ours in New York, who is also a fan of Doctor Who.  He was surprised and delighted by her gift, but apparently not as much as his daughter, who discovered the Dalek when she returned home during the Christmas break.  He told us that she’s “kidnapping” their Dalek, and taking it back to rule her dorm room in Colorado.  He wrote, “I think she will be using the Dalek to intimidate the other residents.”  That’s the problem with Daleks.  Give them an invitation into your little world, and they’ll end up ruling it.

You never can tell where an act of kindness will end up taking a person.  Or, for that matter, a Dalek.

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links

The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill, But Came Down a Mountain

Audrey, Richard, and the Unknown Constable

While a Doctor Who story might have drawn me to Trafalgar Square, another British TV show was foremost in my mind as I stepped inside Britain’s National Gallery.

In the comedy “To The Manor Born,” Audrey has lost her beloved estate to Richard, the founder of a successful grocery chain.  In one episode, he asks her to pose as his wife to fend off the amorous advances of a beautiful French businesswoman with whom he is attempting to finalize a contract.  Unknown to him, Audrey arrives early to redecorate the manor according to her tastes, using many of the furnishings she was forced to sell, along with the manor, after her husband’s death.  When Richard escorts his guest into a sitting room, she inquires if the painting over the fireplace is a Turner.  He chuckles and replies, “No, it’s a Hockney.”  Then he looks, and sees not his modern painting (what appears to have been from the artist’s famous series on Los Angeles’ swimming pools) but a traditional seascape, and must correct himself.  “No, it’s a Turner.”  (Thanks a lot, Audrey!)

I’m not like Thomas Crown (played by Pierce Brosnan in the 1999 remake of “The Thomas Crown Affair”).  I may enjoy rereading my favorite books and stories, or re-watching my favorite TV shows and movies, but to stand or sit for extended periods to study famous paintings is not my normal practice.  Nevertheless, I did enjoy touring (parts of) the National Gallery.  I sought out the work of Joseph Turner, and agreed with Audrey that his famous seascapes and landscapes would better suit the architecture of an English country gentleman’s home.  I noticed that much of the art depicted people and events drawn from the Bible or early Church history.  I sympathized with Rick Steves: much of the great art that mankind has enjoyed for centuries would now be considered “too fleshy” by Americans to be shown in one of his travelogues (even on PBS stations).  And I happened upon the work of one artist whose work I found strangely compelling: the landscapes of John Constable.  My only disappointment was that I didn’t have enough time to explore the museum’s many halls, or listen to the various talks on offer, or simply to gaze in appreciation at so many attempts, on the parts on their creators, to transfer the imagery they saw in their minds into something that could bring joy and inspiration to everyone else.  

That is the power of all art, is it not?  Whether the subjects covered include a Saint, an animal that symbolizes a country, or the individual travel machines of an alien race that invades other planets, all artwork can enrich our lives, often in unforeseen ways.  I’m sure I never thought about visiting London’s National Gallery when I first started watching British TV shows.  But these stories awakened an interest in visiting the country in which they are set.  Seeing “The Dalek Invasion of Earth” drew me to Trafalgar Square.  Once here, “To The Manor Born” drew me into the National Gallery.  Now I have a new artist to learn about in John Constable, and a place to devote more time to on a subsequent vacation.  

One familiar refrain from all who worked on early Doctor Who is their amazement that this show has endured, and continued to entertain and inspire, while many of the other productions they contributed to (either on stage, TV, or film) have been forgotten.  That is the way of life, is it not?  We can never know the ultimate effects of what we do for others.  Out best-intended efforts may be misunderstood or unappreciated.  Some of the work we feel most proud of will be forgotten.  We can only hope that some of what we do will benefit others in the future.  I find that sufficient reason to give of my best to all that I undertake.

Dragon Cache Links:

The first entry in my England Series

My first reference to “The Dalek Invasion of Earth”

Links to the World Wide Web:

The National Gallery

 “To The Manor Born”

 “The Thomas Crown Affair” (1999) 

Westminster Bridge in Color, and in Black & White

Having left behind the statue of the rather complex man Richard the Lionheart, the Palace of Westminster so rich in design and ornamentation, and its famous clock tower known as Big Ben (such an icon for movie-makers and TV directors), it came as a shock to find myself suddenly approaching Westminster Bridge.  Just one of many that span the River Thames, the bridge welcomes one with its elegant simplicity.  Like its sister, Lambeth Bridge, one of its original purposes might have been to provide the monarch a direct route between Lambeth Palace and the Palace of Westminster, but the colors the two are painted (green for Westminster, red for Lambeth) suggest that the modern politicians’ Houses of Commons (upholstered in green) and that of the Lords (upholstered in red) now wield the most influence over this island nation. 


I feel a strong sense of belonging as I walk across it, watching the boats cruise beneath me in the Thames, and enjoying the busyness of the cars and the double-decker buses that transport London’s eight million citizens and countless visitors to their destinations.  I try not to impede my fellow pedestrians, who stream around and past me, surging along the wide sidewalk at this city’s usual frantic pace.  I pause for long moments to capture the perfect view of this bridge in my camera, or to photograph other nearby landmarks.  I make way for those standing in line to buy a sausage or roasted peanuts from a man working off a barbecue grill fashioned from half of a metal drum.  But along with what I see, other images rush to my mind, visions that enrich my sense of presence, of the history of this stretch of metal and concrete upon which I stand.

In “The Dalek Invasion of Earth,” the Doctor and his companions have become seperated.  Barbara throws in her lot with the resistance in London, led by an injured scientist named Dortmun.  She joins an attack on the Dalek spaceport, using new bombs created by Dortmun.  But the bombs fail to injure their enemies, and their attack becomes a rout.  With the resistance in tatters, Daleks scour the city, no longer taking captives, but killing any humans they find.  Barbara and her friend Jenny must get the wheelchair-bound Dortmun out of the city.  But in order to leave London, first they must cross the River Thames.


On a bright, clear morning, Barbara and Jenny push Dortmun along the walkway which hugs the Thames.  They help Dortmun climb from his wheelchair and up the stairs to the top of the bridge.  They look in every direction for the Dalek patrols.  Then, each woman places both her hands on one of the wheelchair handles, digs her feet into the pavement, and together, they propel the injured scientist across the bridge, toward the Palace of Westminster and beyond.


Although “Doctor Who” has transported us to so many places in time and space, for me, this moment stands out.  Filmed in Black & White, and accompanied by a sparse, martial beat, the camera carries us along on the group’s desperate flight.  The group races past notable landmarks, barely avoiding Dalek patrols.  For the most part, the camera focuses upon Barbara, Jenny, and Dortmun, upon the wheelchair’s spinning wheels and the women’s racing feet.  Sometimes, all we see is the shadow the group casts as they travel a bridge and roads devoid of all other human activity.  It is one of those moments that vividly captures the group’s desperation, their hope, and their valor.  Like a red-hot branding iron, that film sequence has burned it way into my memory.  Now I find their desperate flight superimposed upon the normal activity of contemporary London life.


I know it is just another bridge, one of many that transports pedestrians, cars, and tour buses across the River Thames.  I understand that it is just another place that has served as a location shoot for a TV show or a movie.  It is just a span of metal and concrete, not worth mentioning when compared with the city’s other sights and attractions.  And yet, because of that singular moment in Doctor Who, Westminster Bridge has become so very much more.


Flooded with images both past and present, reality merges seamlessly with the fiction I hold so dear.  I am complete.