Reply to Rebecca #8

The tube, tea, drawings and mugs

Madam

I am obliged to offer my apologies for this late response to your letter. Unfortunately, a malignant Fate, to borrow a phrase from Dornford Yates, decreed that yesterday would be characterised by several things going wrong. My mood was not improved by the pain in my left leg. On Tuesday I visited the Science Museum in London to look at the Technicians exhibition, as I’ve been asked to write a review of it, and while striding back my left ankle suddenly “went”. I put this down to a strained muscle, probably occasioned by attempting to get my moneys’-worth from gym membership. My body, you see, is a finely-honed machine, and no doubt this sudden increase in exercise has upset the delicate balance.

But enough of this persiflage! To your letter…

The tube map

The London tube map is excellent in terms of depicting which lines go where, and where they interchange with other lines. It was designed by a bloke called Harry Beck, and was based on integrated circuits diagrams. The good thing about it is that it excludes all extraneous detail, so you can easily plot a route. The only disadvantage of it is that it excludes all extraneous detail, meaning that you can’t tell where any of the stations are in relation to the real world. Yes, you can see that some stations are in, say, north London, and other stations are a bit to the right (East) but you can’t relate the stations to actual roads.

I discovered the implications of this a few years ago. I was giving some training in south London, and my normal route would be to travel from my home to Stratford station, where I would change for the Jubilee Line for London Bridge, where I would change to the Northern Line for Borough station. It’s all a bit easier now with the wonderful new Elizabeth Line, but I’m talking about several years ago. I would show you a map, but Transport for London would want to charge me several hundred pounds for permission to do so. But below is my own sketch map instead.

Suffice to say that the part of the journey from Stratford took 45 minutes.

Well one year I was up most of the night being sick. At 7 am I crawled to a pharmacy where they sold me the equivalent of a giant plug. That was effective in keeping everything down, but I still spent the day feeling queasy. After I’d finished running the training I thought it best to hop on a bus rather than the tube, on the grounds that it would be easier for me to get the driver to let me off if I took ill again.

The bus journey was a revelation: it took 15 minutes to Liverpool Street, the next station along from Stratford. I looked at a street atlas to find out why, and the answer became obvious. The bus went on a direct route, whereas the tube lines went two sides of a square in effect. The next time I did training at the same place, I walked that part of the journey, and it took only 25 minutes. Here’s a sketch map to show why the bus was so much faster:

Journey to London Bridge. Not drawn to scale. Map by Terry Freedman

The IKEA experience

You described the IKEA experience well. I read some years ago that it’s been deliberately designed to channel people around to all the different sections, and then food. It’s a horrible experience is all I can say.

So this Ariadne person you mention. Does she write on Substack? Anyone who can help someone escape from a minor tour really ought to consider it. Which reminds me: in British history, when a minor acceded to the throne, do you know who gave them permission to marry? The Coal Board.

Politicians in real life

I bumped into Vince Cable once, in the House of Commons. I was in one of the corridors looking lost (mainly because I was lost), when a voice spake unto me: “Can I help you?”. It was Vince.

“Look”, I said to him. “About these tax rises. Have you any idea how they affect small businesses like mine? I know my rights.”

Actually, I made that bit up. I told him where I was trying to get to, and he pointed the way, and then I told him that a speech he’d recently made at an education technology conference, which I’d attended, was really good, and he thanked me. He seemed like a real gentleman.

And on the subject of the House of Commons, were you aware that a ritual that is carried out every year on 5th November is to look around the basement to check that nobody has planted gunpowder there. And they light their way with a naked flame. What could possibly go wrong?

Meeting on the escalator

Around ten years ago I wrote a blog post basically saying that the ideas put forward in a blog post by someone called Joe (no need for last name) was a load of rubbish. Then later in the day I was on the down escalator at Waterloo Station, and he was coming up on the neighbouring escalator! That was strange, especially as I hadn’t seen him for years.

“Joe!”, I bellowed. “I’ve just written a diatribe against your mad ideas, on my blog!”

“Excellent!”, he answered. “I look forward to reading it.”

Now isn’t that the way to handle disagreements, Rebecca, rather than trying to ruin someone’s life?

Tea

The leaves of the tea I drink are individually crafted to ensure they meet EU regulations of length, width and curvature. As for tea bags, you do realise they’re non-compostable, right? You are aware, Rebecca, that it’s people like you who are ruining the environment? I’ve met your sort before.

A tea specialist told us, a few years ago, that a certain kind of tea was obtained by provoking the monkeys who were at the top of the trees, causing them to hurl down the leaves at these human pests.

What a mug

I enjoyed looking at your mug, and the vessel that contained your tea. I don’t know how a pint compares with a litre, but my one holds three quarters of a litre. Here’s a picture to prove it, which I took only this morning:

Terry’s mug

Incidentally, the blurred background isn’t a special effect. The background really is blurred, wherever I go. It’s just the effect I have on my surroundings.

Where’s the picture?

I like your drawings, Rebecca, so I was vastly disappointed by the absence of any in your latest missive.

A few years ago, when I was teaching, I asked a couple of Year 8 girls (aged 13), if they could spare a few minutes while I drew them. I told them that I’d recently started taking art lessons, and that I was wondering if they could help me out as they were ahead of their work and there was only about 10 minutes left to the end of the lesson.

They agreed. So they sat down at the front of the class, and I sat facing them, holding out a pencil to gauge perspective, the way artists do, and after a lot of faffing and tutting and all that I asked them if they’d like to see my efforts. They did, so I showed them:

Two girls, by Terry Freedman

They went bonkers.

Girl: We’ve got loads of work to do and you’ve wasted our time with this rubbish!

Me: Wait, that’s not fair. I told you I’d only just started taking lessons.

Boy, were they annoyed, but they were laughing despite themselves. 😂

Puddlegate

The problem at the bus stop gets worse. Photo by Terry Freedman

What more can I say? For newcomers, a pictorial history of the drainage problem at my local bus stop may be found here.

Spring has sprung

All this stuff about meteorological spring, astronomical spring and coiled spring is a load of nonsense. If the daffodils are out, it’s spring. That’s all I have to say on the matter.

Well, readers and eavesdroppers, that’s enough for me for now. To ensure that you see Rebecca’s reply, subscribe to her newsletter:

While there you will see an index to past letters.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this. Do comment and share, and subscribe if you haven’t already done so. (If not, why not? Please let me have a note by tomorrow. Ooops, there’s my teacher voice coming out again. Sorry.)