The London Eye on the shores of the Thames

I finally made it out to London after spending two months in England having seen nothing of it’s capital but the airport. In my defense, I was rewarding myself for getting the first of my four (!) assessments handed in on time, so I’ve been more than a little busy here in Brighton. Nevertheless, I held off on going until the weather turned nice, and on a chilly December day, I went for a casual stroll up the Thames.

It turned out that doing so took me on a walking path of many of the major sights in the city, including Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, the London Eye, the Globe Theatre (best part of the day), the Tower Bridge, and the Tower of London. As always, I stayed until my camera ran out of batteries and it got too dark for photos to turn out. But it was just the break I needed before I shoved my nose back into that grindstone, and I now have a big list of all the places I have to get to next time. I think I’ll start from the Tower and work my way north…

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Burning crosses apparently don't carry the same stigma in England...

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent
To blow up King and Parli’ment.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England’s overthrow;
By God’s providence he was catch’d
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

On November 5th, 1605, Guy Fawkes and others attempted to assassinate King James I by blowing up the Houses of Parliament while he was inside. Despite what V for Vendetta would have you believe, this was not a political statement, but rather an attempt by angry Catholics to kill off the Protestant aristocracy. Needless to say they were captured, tortured and executed in a rousing public display, and the day is now celebrated every year here in England. It turns out they celebrate it the same way many countries celebrate; by getting drunk and setting things on fire!

Interestingly, while most of the political connotations of the act from 400 years ago are forgotten, the whole celebration smacks of anti-Catholicism. Oh sure, they have tar barrel races and fireworks and burn effigies of Guy Fawkes, and that’s good fun. But that’s all in addition to the burning crosses paraded through the streets, and the effigies of Guy are standing alongside effigies of unpopular modern figures, like the Prime Minister, police officers, and the Pope. No one seemed to be bothered by it, since they know the history and see it every year. But I’m from North America, where a burning cross is a symbol of something quite different. So it was more than a little jarring to see a night of revelry and family entertainment involving such blatantly hostile sentiment.

Don’t believe me? Here’s the (not often sung) second verse to that song above:

A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o’ cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we’ll say ol’ Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah!

Real classy, England.

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