Passacaglia and Fugue

It's use-it-or-lose-it season for annual leave at work, and I'm in favour of using it. We had intended to meet up with F late last year for a trip to Dulwich Picture Gallery, but our plans were upended by rail strikes. In the mean time, R had already visited the M K Čiurlionis: Between Worlds exhibition. As weekends are the new peak days, I decided a Friday trip would suit me, and it worked quite well. The exhibition space at Dulwich is long and narrow, and it doesn't take many people to make it busy, but it was fairly quiet when I arrived in the late morning.

The paintings were definitely other-worldly, reflecting Lithuanian history and culture, with significant pagan and eastern influences. But they were also familiar, with one or two angels being reminiscent of the recent BBC adaptation of His Dark Materials; and Serenity (below), whilst being quite different in detail, reminded me in structure of Bocklin's Isle of the Dead. I didn't see any mention of synesthesia, but Čiurlionis was also a composer, and gave musical titles such as "Sonata", "Symphony" or "Fugue" to several of his works.

Serenity

Creation of the World (V) - a watery Tattoine?

Sonata of the Sea (Finale) - perhaps inspired by The Great Wave off Kanagawa?

The City - as featured in any number of fantasy novels

Sonata of the Pyramids (Allegro)

After lunch, and back in central London, there was time to visit the Royal Academy's Spain and the Hispanic world exhibition. More of a conventional blockbuster, this exhibition takes items loaned from the Hispanic Society of America, while their museum undergoes renovation. Obviously this was a busier exhibition, but still probably less crowded than at a weekend. It's difficult to compare with the before-time, but I wondered whether there were fewer exhibits, as things did feel a bit more comfortably spaced out. The range and quality is impressive, from the Bell-Beaker artifacts of c.2400 BCE, through the culture of Al-Andalus, the colonial era in North and South America, culminating in some Sorolla paintings (readily recognisable in style from an earlier exhibition) and a sketch for his installed paintings Vision of Spain.

Bell-Beaker bowl

Plate with Dragon

Plate with Harpy

Black Book of Hours

Vespucci World Map

The Duchess of Alba, by Goya

Louis Comfort Tiffany, by Sorolla

Book Review: The Story of Crossrail, by Christian Wolmar
Whereas The Tunnel Through Time focused very much on the psychogeography and history of some inner London districts, Wolmar's book is closer to what I would expect, starting with the origins of the Underground routes across London and observing that North-South routes were established early on, but the city remained ambivalent about East-West routes, making do with the Metropolitan and District lines (elements of which were later united as the Circle line) and the piecemeal construction of the Central line. There's an illuminating discussion on the "objectiveness" of cost-benefit analysis, and the way various lobby groups have operated over the decades, which delayed getting Crossrail off even the vaguest of drawing boards prior to the 1990s. (The DLR and Jubilee line extension were both evaluated less favourably, yet were built earlier, due to influence from the owners of Canary Wharf. And that's before you consider similar projects outside of London.)

The later chapters of the book are more technical (though not specialist), focusing on the tunnelling, trains, stations and signalling - the last of these has been the principal cause of delay, and having read the book, it is easier to understand how this came about. Depending on one's point of view, this can be somewhat ascribed either to a chronic lack of investment in the railways, or EU bureaucracy. On the rolling stock, again, political interference trumps strict commercial considerations, where the bidding would have favoured overseas construction. On the stations, it is interesting to read about the TfL design ethos, somewhat at odds with conventions of the construction industry, but reassuringly in keeping with the iconic designs of the Tube over its history. Overall, we may be exercised by the cost overrun of about 20% (unknown at the time of writing), but Wolmar reasonably makes observations that overruns of 50-100% are not uncommon in projects of such scale (at least partially due to massaging of original estimates to get the project off the ground).

Apparently Lord Adonis wanted to call it the Churchill line but a certain Mayor of London had an infatuation for the monarch even greater than his infatuation for the wartime prime minister. Perhaps we should be grateful that it's opened in the jubilee year, rather than being delayed until yet another round-numbered VE-day anniversary.

This book was published in 2018, so although it has some awareness of the announcement of the delay, it doesn't cover what happened afterwards. One of the interesting aspects of cost-benefit analysis is the sensitivity of the "benefit" side to the state of the economy. Inevitably, a new scheme appears most favourable and is most needed when the economy is doing well; equally inevitably, it seems, by the time it has been constructed, some of the demand will have faded. The financial circumstances in which TfL finds itself in 2022 seem to follow this pattern. Wolmar points out that usage of most new transport schemes eventually exceed their estimates, though we may have to wait some time to find that out. Crossrail 2, if it ever goes ahead, is putatively to be called the Churchill line.

A few weeks ago, as outdoor attractions started to re-open, we booked tickets to go to RHS Wisley. Of course, the weather had other ideas, but in fact it wasn't too bad. There was a short queue, but it was self-managing with 2m points clearly marked on the ground, and the entry through the small indoor area was quite swift.

It's many years since we visited - I reckon it could easily be 15 or 20 - and I think a lot has changed. Last time we visited was in autumn; this time we got to see mid-summer. Although the glasshouses were closed, we had a good wander through most of the outdoor areas, and I picked up a couple of tips in the trials area. In these times I can't say it was a stress-free visit, but common sense generally prevailed and I didn't feel uneasy at any stage, though we avoided the shop (not least because it had its own queue).

The Laboratory

The Walled Garden

Gunnera

Sweet Peas

Bonsai

Sarracenia

Last Wednesday, the news broke that Boris Johnson had asked the Queen to prorogue Parliament for a 5-week period. Among the first 50000 or so to sign the inevitable petition against, I felt this was a necessary but not sufficient action, and decided to join the hastily-convened protest at College Green in the evening. The sound system wasn't really up to the job, but among others I heard Diane Abbott convincingly describe how the UK would conventionally react to such a democratic suspension in a Latin American country. We moved on to Parliament Square and Downing Street, where other, similarly chaotic protests, were going on. The mood was distinctly different from earlier People's Vote marches, much angrier, and although I did not feel unsafe, I had the sense that we have entered a more dangerous phase, and I was not surprised to hear of clashes with Brexit Party supporters later in the evening.

By the weekend, things had become more organised; as I was planning on going to the Proms on Saturday evening, I decided to join the lunchtime protest at Westminster in lieu of the more local protests taking place. In some respects, this was a disappointment, as it was clearly led by the hard left, and the speakers were all either from the Labour Party, the Green Party, or the Unions. John McDonnell made a reasoned speech; some of the Trades Union reps were off-message to my ear, almost overtly suggesting that Corbyn be made head of a caretaker government, at which point he could implement Labour's policies, including the more far-left ones. It pleased the crowd, but that wouldn't be any more constitutional than the present position. Fortunately the loudest booing during the speeches was reserved for the moment when the Vauxhall Labour Party chair mentioned that his MP was Kate Hoey; I'm not sure whether that was the expected reaction.

Despite the arrangement for a "static" demonstration, we had to exit somewhere, and people marched up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square. Enough time had passed for people to be inventive about their placards; I only got poor photos of the light-hearted "More Pierogi, Less Prorogation" or the less subtle Boris Johnson picture with added Hitler moustache, but there were others too.

There was further booing and shouting as we passed the Wetherspoon's pub on Whitehall; as we got closer I realised that a few of Britain's Finest Gammon were being contained by a heavy police presence.

I could see the traffic was being disrupted as I made my way to the National Gallery for a couple of hours to pass the remainder of the afternoon; as I emerged it seemed police were moving in to break up the sit-down protest.

We set off early for the Put it to the People march. For once the trains were not sabotaged by Failing Grayling, and we found uitlander successfully at the meeting point. Unfortunately my path failed to coincide with a couple of other friends I was hoping to meet, but I understand they both were on sections of the march.

We assembled onto Park Lane at 11:30. Predictably, there was a lot of standing around; we could do little but fight with the mobile networks and admire the placards. Like last time, it was gone 2pm before we passed the official starting point of the march. The pace seemed about the same as last time, though the march did not thin out the way previous events have. We parted company with uitlander, who wanted to stick with the group for the return coach. Despite a strong contender from some bagpipes playing Beethoven's Ode to Joy, the surreal high point was probably passing alongside a Yorkshire party belting out "Thar Brexit deal is crap" to the tune of Ilkley Moor. In fact, it did take us longer to reach the end; it was about quarter to five when we reached Trafalgar Square and dispersed. Sadly we saw no speeches. Such is the price for being part of the 1,000,000.

For me, the mood felt darker than previous marches. Some of that may have been down to anxiety, either generally, or specifically about not being able to fulfil meeting arrangements with other friends, but for the most part I think the reason is the more obvious reality. The petition, to revoke Article 50, seems to exemplify the radicalisation of Remainers: despite the stated objective of the march, which reflects the logic that the 2016 referendum decision is best amended by a further referendum on the actual deal, the sense that these people want Article 50 revoked was strong. Whilst she made some bad errors of judgement on Wednesday evening, Theresa May was right to say we have all had enough. It's just that she hasn't, so far, allowed MPs to say what they are in favour of, though they have had ample opportunities to vote things down.

Where do we go from here? It's difficult to guess, though I think we can guess that MV3 will fail, if it is put at all. It feels as though the indicative votes should either lock the current deal into a referendum, or dispatch Article 50 altogether, with the men in white coats, or John Bercow, taking May away for her own good and everyone else's; but Parliament has, so far, excluded the overtly sensible options. Longer term, we need some inquiry to hold those who peddled lies and fantasies to account, and we also need something like a Royal Commission to consider parameters and rules for whether - if ever - we are to have referendums in this country in future.

Previously, when asked at work if I want to go to any conferences, I've been indifferent; this year, somehow, I agreed to go to QCon London and so I spent three days away from work, if not away from London, last week. Having worked with two of the speakers - Sarah Wells, who gave the opening keynote presentation, and Nicky Wrightson - gave me some familiarity, as well as a chance to catch up with friends. Trying to mix familiar and unfamiliar, I also attended talks on Test-Driven Machine Learning, Life Beyond Java 8, Open Banking, Reactive Architecture, High-Performance Culture, Functional Composition, and the final keynote on Bad Science, Better Data by Ben Goldacre. It was intensive and exhausting; although there was ample time for breaks, it didn't really feel like down-time. At the best of times I'm not cut out for "networking", and this wasn't the best of times either. Nevertheless I did enjoy the conference and would recommend it to others in the profession.

Another weekend, another People's Vote March. We decided not to bother getting up early, and took our time, arriving at Marble Arch around noon, which was the announced starting time. We shuffled, slowly. Very slowly. Much more slowly than last time. In fact, at about half past one, I commented that we had reached the bus stops where we met P on the March for Europe more than 18 months ago. It was well after 2pm by the time we got going. Even then, the pace was much slower than previous events, and the crowd never thinned out in its density. It was nearly 4pm by the time we reached Trafalgar Square; there seemed no prospect of progressing to the march's end-point in Parliament Square, and the crowds were milling. We decided it was time to call it a day, but realistically we'd have missed any speeches anyway.

It turned out that we were among 600,000 - 700,000 other people - or, as Channel 4 News announced it, the largest march in the UK ever to take place without Jeremy Corbyn. That was much, much bigger than the previous events, and explains the overall laggardliness.

Placard-wise, things were plainly getting quite serious. I hope the government is listening.

On Saturday we headed out to Dulwich Picture Gallery for their Tove Jansson exhibition. Although it's a relatively small exhibition space, sometimes I think they squeeze a lot into it, but not so much this time. There are plenty of Moomin pictures and related items, and appropriately Nordic illustrations for Swedish language editions of other works such as The Hobbit, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and The Hunting of the Snark, but it was Jansson's paintings such as Mysterious Landscape and The Family and drawings in the first two rooms that I found most striking, as well as a curious miscellany of propaganda works including wartime covers for Garm magazine and, in the last room, poster designs for environmental campaigns.

I pass Old Oak Common depot on the way to work every day. Sometimes I'm getting a little extra shut-eye, but sometimes I look out of the window, and one day, a few months ago, I saw a banner advertising an open day at the depot just outside Paddington. I decided it would be something a bit different to do, and bought myself a ticket for the event, which took place yesterday. Billed as celebrating 111 years of the depot, and featuring "Legends of the Great Western", it was in fact something of an inflection, with the imminent introduction of the IET electric trains on the Great Western line, and the re-purposing of the site to function as the depot for the Elizabeth Line (Crossrail) trains.

The website proclaimed "We expect demand for this event to be high" and the directions for getting to the depot suggested "we expect queues to form in two directions". They weren't wrong. After catching the train in to Paddington and backtracking along the Bakerloo Line to Willesden Junction, I found myself shortly after 10am in a slowly moving queue. There were some disturbing people who knew the Up and Down speed limits as we crossed the bridge over the West Coast Main Line, which also passes nearby. There was also the guy who worked for Network Rail who observed the irony that he has to fly from London for meetings in Edinburgh because the train is too slow and expensive. All in all it was a half-hour shuffle to get through the gates.

Once inside, the main attractions were, obviously, the locomotives, mostly from the BR diesel era but with some older steam locomotives, and one, very special, visitor: 60163 Tornado.

Those who take these things more seriously were constantly jostling for photo positions, and didn't hold back from instructing others to "get out of the way". For the most part, I think it was good-natured, though obviously some would have preferred access to the site without the inconvenience of other people. At the modern end of the spectrum, there was one of the new Class 800 series, Queen Elizabeth II. I do feel there's something missing. Just painting the name on the surface feels a bit indifferent from a polished nameplate, but that's the modern rail system for you. We weren't allowed inside, so it remains a mystery for a little while longer.

All in, it was a fun few hours, and we were lucky with the weather.

We'd known the Hokusai exhibition at the British Museum would be popular and we'd booked in advance; just as well, as advance tickets have now sold out, and day tickets had also sold out when we arrived. There were long queues for the museum as a whole now that the bag search has become ubiquitous - having a pre-booked ticket allows you to fast-track through some elements of this, but it's still hassle. Sadly it's an arms race of security theatre - if one place does it, they all have to do it for fear of being left behind, a softer target. It's job creation all right, but I rather doubt these are quality jobs.

We had allowed plenty of time and wandered through the free, smaller exhibitions of British Watercolours, which was a mixed bag but had some interesting pieces by Paul Nash, his brother John Nash, Ravilious and others, and Pacific North America, marking the 150th anniversary of the foundation of Canada in a possibly rather awkward way, but at least acknowledging the indigenous culture.

The Hokusai exhibition itself was very busy, essentially a slow-moving queue from end to end, which didn't make for the best experience, but it was worth it to see the range of works, starting with the summoning of a dragon, proceeding through many views of Mount Fuji (including the Great Wave itself), but also flower and bird paintings, a few portraits, and two unusual aerial views of Japan and China. It was interesting to compare with Hiroshige's slightly later paintings of Mount Fuji; on the whole, Hokusai was more monochromatic, frequently using (the then novel) Prussian Blue for his main colour scheme. At the end of the exhibition there are also one or two works by his daughter; sometimes these were passed off as by Hokusia himself in order to increase their value.