London, Day 7

The Time of the Green Witch
Friday we had intended to get up earlier, however I neglected to set up the wake-up call Thursday evening, so we slept until past 9:00. On this morning we were again treated to the burlesque show across the way, and this time I had Mrs. Farrago's zoom lens handy! I got into trouble with the missus, though. Apparently it's okay for me to take pictures of a naked man showering, but not to take pictures of a naked woman showering.











We made up for the time through breakfast and getting ready, and we were down to the Westminster Pier by 11:20, with just enough time to buy tickets for and board the Greenwich boat to … uh… Greenwich.

It struck me that, with all of his questions about nearly everything he saw, heard or smelled, A never once did ask why it’s pronounced “grennitch,” but as it’s spelled, the oblivious would pronounce it “green witch.”

The boat ride was nice, with a funny commentary by the driver about the sights along the way. Unwittingly, we arrived in Greenwich with just enough time to make the leisurely walk up to the Royal Observatory and witness the red ball dropping on its spike to signal to the world that it was 12 noon, Greenwich Mean Time. It didn’t receive quite the hoopla that a similar event does in January in New York City, but at least no one died of gunshot wounds.
















The Royal Observatory is no longer that, but is now the Time Museum, a collection and educational experience that tells the story of the quest for accurate longitude. Long story made short: prior to radio communication and Ground Positioning Satellites, in order to find your exact location on the globe, you needed to know what time it was in a pre-determined location (Greenwich, England) so your measures of the sun’s position at sea could be referenced. That measurement gives you degrees of longitude from the zero point (GMT). You therefore needed a clock on board your ship with the time of day in your launching point, or, as the world later agreed to, in Greenwich, in order for the measurements to make sense. Clocks of the 18th century all operated with use of pendulums (pendula?), which were rendered useless on a swaying, tilting ship at sea, and there was a great struggle not only to create a clock that would operate at sea, but one that kept accurate time. So, apparently, it turns out that the Vikings merely lucked out when they landed at the shores of the Anglo-Saxons and plundered the land and assimilated a new culture. They were just looking for warm beaches and a place to party!














The author of this blog representing his city and sucking up more light from another.

The museum has each of the three prototypes that the eventual successful inventor, a man named Harrison, I recall… George, was it? Perhaps not… built on his way to his fourth and quintessential timekeeping device that was deemed the most accurate clock of its time.

It truly was an interesting place.













Mr. and Mrs. Farrago astride the Greenwich Meridian. She's to the west, and I'm to the east of the line that officially divides the world into longitudinal hemispheres.










The view of London from Greenwich, with two people in the way...


Afterward we walked back down the hill and wandered about the town, which is still a part of London, I believe, and through a bazaar full of little stands from which people sold all sorts of used and/or worthless crap. …except for the cute little earrings Mrs. Farrago bought there.














A couple of shots from the boat ride on the Thames back to Westminster...












Back at the Pelham for only a few minutes, we then walked just past The Hoop and Toy to Kwality, a contemporary Indian restaurant for dinner - a place of which I did not get a photo - and free entertainment by our waiter who was slightly more funny than he was creepy. The food, however was outstanding. And it didn’t give me gas…or worse.