The Old Operating Theatre Museum

For quite some time I have wanted to visit the Old Operating Theatre Museum since a good friend of mine paid it a visit and couldn't recommend it highly enough. Finally a trip to London for some gigs meant I had the opportunity to pay this unique place a visit at last. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect from the Old Operating Theatre, but I certainly experienced far more than my greatest expectations!

Immediately upon arrival at the museum it feels quite hidden away and secretive. Surrounded by landmarks such as The Shard and London Bridge the hustle and bustle of everyday life in the capital seems to pass this slice of history by. Its unusual entrance is secreted through a small door and up a steep spiral staircase winding on and on. At the top you find yourself in the gift shop and entrance, full of all sorts of interesting books and knickknacks to do with anatomy, medical history and a firm favorite; the human skull.

After excitedly paying my entrance fee, I was let loose into the museum. An array of glass jars and bottles, taxidermy and medical equipment awaited me. Only a few people walked around the museum besides myself, however it felt quite busy as it is rather small and consisting of only a handful of rooms. Being quite a fan of my own space in museums (and in general really) I viewed the exhibits in order of least busy. Hopping from place to place to according to where was devoid of anyone else, which gave the visit quite an exciting, energetic feel strangely.

There were countless fantastic photo opportunities throughout the museum, interesting artefacts and instruments behind glass, dioramas, all sorts of jars and bottles arranged interestingly (the ones in the window catching the light were very charming in particular), the old operating theatre itself of course and the Herb Garret with its scales, baskets and a whole manner of different sights and smells.

The sensation of visiting the operating theatre was a curious one indeed. To stand lofty in this (very literally) theatre like space and imagine the kind of things that would have gone on to some poor soul on the table below. Without the mercy of modern medicine and the benefit of the scientific know how we enjoy today. A very unique, strange feeling indeed. What these walls must have seen during their history, operations without the aid of anesthetic and many other modern tools and treatments we take for granted. The horrors and the marvels people have endured while onlookers gawp down in delight. How bizarre.

As I drifted around the main room; The Herb Garret, something absolutely captivated me which I can't properly express in any blog or photograph; the scent. It was utterly enchanting. Baskets and sacks filled with all sorts of herbs and ingredients with important medical ties were dotted around the room. Myrrh, rose petals, lavender, pomegranate, frankincense and countless others, all arranged in amongst pestle and mortar, scales, boiling flasks, plague doctors masks, jars, recipes and all sorts of intriguing elements required to recreate what the Herb Garret may have once looked, and smelled like.

This in particular was my favourite, and honestly the most unexpected part of my visit. Its not very often you come away from a museum raving about how utterly glorious it smelt, and its not the sense you expect to really be heavily engaged in any museum. The Old Operating Theatre Museum is the first museum I can honestly say has engaged almost all of my sense during a visit, as for taste, there wasn't much in those old jars of arsenic and the like I much fancied sampling funnily enough!

If you get the chance to visit The Old Operating Theatre Museum I can't urge you enough to do so. This unique, historically important and fascinating place is a truly fantastic experience. By visiting you are supporting this wonderful charity and keeping alive this slice of our medical history, ensuring the oldest operating theatre in Europe is safeguarded for future generations.

To plan your visit or for more information, visit: http://oldoperatingtheatre.com/

Red House

For more years than I can count I have dreamed of visiting Red House. As a life long lover of William Morris and everything he stood for (Socialism, quality products, hand craftsmanship, well considered design, the aesthetic beauty of everyday objects, truth to and respect of nature, obsession with the Medieval ... the list goes on) Red House for me has always been some what of a Holy Grail.
Every time I've visited London and begin to think about what I can cram in Red House always comes to the front of my mind, looming large like some un-vanquished beast. And then I look at Bexleyheath and its awkward location and the logistics never quite seem to fit.

But this wasn't a trip to London, this was a trip to France and beyond, and with Bexleyheath only a short drive from the M25 to my logic it was 'on the way' (as too was Bodingham Castle apparently) and the perfect opportunity to finally make a pilgrimage to Morris's home. And so it was built into the mammoth road trip schedule.

Our arrival at Red House hadn't been quite what I was expecting. A winding, modern suburban housing estate with boring, cloned houses costing I shudder to think how much lining the narrow winding lanes which felt a million miles away from London (however the traffic on the main roads did not). Twisting and turning wondering where on earth it was as the satnav had not-so-helpfully announced we had arrived, yet it was nowhere to be seen. Then suddenly around a bend lofty trees loomed up from behind a high brick wall and a blue plaque, here we were! Red House at last.

To say the property is National Trust you would hardly know in all honesty. A little out building with a small gift shop in but none of the usual pomp and grandeur that generally greets you at most trust properties (though we have visited other exceptions). From outside the walls Red House is quite unassuming, hidden behind trees and garden walls, most people probably drive by without a second glance. However inside those walls, it feels like I've walked into Morris' personal paradise. The steeply pitched roof gives the house a dramatic, imposing presence, while the many different windows in lots of shapes and sizes soften it and give it a charming character. On first impression the house is simple, honest. Its not until you get around the back of the house you see its more complex side, with a much more cosy feeling as it comes around to hug the ornate well and envelope the garden. One thing you truly get a sense of at Red House is Morris's connection to nature. The beautiful gardens were as important to Morris as every other aspect of this home, and that truly shows.

Inside the building had the echoes of some great medieval hall with beams, dark wood and bespoke gothic furniture in most rooms. But it was not as Morris intended it. White washed walls and Morris wallpaper Red House has been painfully sanitized over the years. Beautiful murals painted over, colour schemes whited out, stained glass sold, its true artistic intention and creation, lost. Colour swatches in the rooms tell you the original schemes Morris used. Deep reds, ocre, dark green, all those beautiful Medieval colours he so loved and we see today immortalised in illuminated manuscripts. Gone. The house was a living work of art and what he and Jane achieved there in 5 short years is incredible. So why isn't it being restored?

I asked volunteers why original schemes had not been reintroduced, or more original features had not been uncovered as for me the sorry state of the inside compared to what it could and should be was heart breaking and if I'm honest, a little distressing. Many were flippant, one telling me there were beautiful artworks on the doors, but she preferred the teal blue they were now painted and hoped they would stay that way. I wanted to tell her that wasn't her decision to make, this was Morris's dream and should reflect his vision, not hers, surely that's what we're saving this gem for, in tribute to his memory and genius? But, I wound my neck in and held my tongue. Other staff said they didn't have enough funding to carry out the costly work involved, painstaking work I know, but worthwhile surely? And I was also told of some urgent structural problems which needed to be addressed but for whatever reason hadn't been yet.

Its frustrating to see the house which was Morris' vision a shadow of its former self. But its easy to understand how this happens when an organisation as large as the National Trust has guardianship of a building. Over the past years we've been to so many of their properties, and what they do to safe guard and protect our heritage is nothing short of incredible. But when you visit Red House and are one of perhaps a dozen people in the entire grounds, you can see that compared to a property such as Nostell Priory, which on the day we visited there were literally thousands of people, and we were told on our tour how many tens of thousands of pounds they paid to reupholster a single sofa in one room of the Priory because it was looking a bit past it, you realise Red House is sadly a little fish in a big pond. And not the big bucks money spinning tourist attraction which some of their buildings are.

To have finally made it to Red House was a double edged sword. With so much joy to finally see this unique home, and yet sadness and frustration at wanting it to truly reflect Morris still. I hope that when the time comes when I have chance to visit again more of the intricate work of Morris will have been uncovered for future generations to treasure and protect.

Next to complete on my Morris pilgrimages is Kelmscott Manor. Perhaps one for 2019 ...

Highgate Cemetery

During the 19th century every city with a population boom suffered the same social and economic issues; overcrowding, famine, disease, unsanitary conditions, an endless list of problems bought on by the ever evolving, and growing, world. Victorian London was no exception. The conditions in London worsened as the population increased, the church yards overflowed and diseases spread like never before. Every great city had it's own solution of what to do with it's dead when the room finally ran out. Paris built the catacombs, and the vast park like cemetery Père Lachaise, which inspired the solution to Londons problems; Highgate Cemetery and 'The Magnificent Seven'.

Highgate at the time of its creation was a place to bury your dead far from the metropolis of London. A green park on a distant hill, free from the Victorian obsession of miasma, where your loved ones could be buried in peace, without fear of being exhumed, and you also guaranteed your own resting place, by buying a plot with a contract which is still binding today. This new system gave peace of mind in a time when the threat of disease and death were ever present.

Highgate was a popular choice of final resting place for many well to do Victorians, with many notable figures of the age buried within the cemetery. Though, as attitudes towards cemetery's changed and Victorian indulgence and grandeur gave way to the sorrow and mourning of the Great War, Highgate fell into a state of neglect. Eventually it's gates were closed, and both vandals and nature took over.

Now reopened, thanks to the Friends of Highgate Cemetery, and available for visit by guided tour, the cemetery is a beautiful, tranquil treasure, hidden within ordinary suburban London. Highgate has so much to offer as a slightly 'alternative' activity to partake in when visiting the capital. History, exemplary craftsmanship, wild plants and flowers, a registered nature reserve, and importantly, the human story behind the stone. The lives (and deaths) of those interred at Highgate are wonderful stories, and capture the true reality behind the thousands of monuments.

Next time you're in London, I urge you to indulge in something a little different and visit Highgate Cemetery. By supporting the Friends of Highgate Cemetery, you are helping to keep a slice of history alive, and ensuring the maintenance and preservation of this incredible place for future generations.

Natural History Museum

Having never visited the Natural History Museum before it was certainly a long overdue experience. My lifelong love of nature, and its influence upon my art is very important, so the opportunity to visit a the museum at last was seized enthusiastically.

The buildings facade was certainly an impressive, breath-taking one. Known as the Waterhouse Building, after its visionary architect Alfred Waterhouse, the Victorian building is a fantastic example Waterhouse's work, and of German Romanesque architecture in England.

The interior of the building is no less impressive than the exterior, with grand arched doorways, high ceilings and most impressive of all, countless unique stone carvings. Waterhouse has skillfully woven the purpose of the building into its very fabric, with the beautiful stone carvings of various flora and fauna. These charming creatures can be found throughout the building hiding in dark corners and lofty places, often overshadowed by the exhibits themselves, my favourites were the bats.
Waterhouse said that he 'hoped that the Gothic revival would be more than a mere revival - that it would turn from a revival into a growth.', which is a noble statement, and demonstrates Waterhouses commitment and dedication to the beauty of Gothic Revival architecture in Victorian England.