In Peter's class we began with a lecture on some pretty disturbing visuals about the hygiene and life-styles of 16th to 19th century English. It was very disgusting so I'm going to devote an entire blog to it after this. But when that was all done we went on a walk.




The first place we visited was here, Grazing, one of the biggest courts in London during the mid-18th centuries. This huge private garden was once restricted only to the residents of the building encircling it, but has since, of course, been opened to the public.



  
The English are a lot like people from Seattle. When the sun comes out, everyone comes out to soak up the rays like a bunch of iguanas looking to recharge:









Peter encourages us to come up and talk with him during the walks but the old codger walks so fast it's hard to keep up.




      As you can see it's made mostly from timber, a sign of massive wealth because of the value of wood at the time, and a means to which showcase the church's wealth. The large windows serve the same purpose seeing how glass costed nearly 4 times more than timber. While it has been renovated and remodeled on the interior, this building's main structure has remained largely intact for centuries. Notice the way it's structural lines curve and bend rather than running straight. They didn't use nails to join the wood together but rather pegs, which works. Try hanging about for a few centuries and see if you don't get bent out of shape a little.
      Another amazing feature of the building is a small tobacco shop on the bottom right hand corner. The tradition of selling tobacco from that exact spot runs back from 1602. 400 years! But it seems like that tradition is finally coming to an end. The store closed down in 2011 for financial reasons. I, like Peter, blame Thatcher, but that may not be entirely fair. Still, it's sad to see a tetra-centurion tradition fade with such little lamenting. I will lament for you, tradition.



One these walks I managed to take enough self-portraits that people in my class started feeling bad and offering to take pictures of me instead :) Thanks! The weather on Thursday actually got pretty hot and a lot of us found ourselves peeling of extra unwanted layers.



What I'm learning on Peter's walks is that what is generally deemed as "Need-to-See" guides for tourists often overlook some of the most interesting and culturally rich spots in London, which brings us to our next site: Britain's National Meat Market, which still functions as such today.
This place may not look like much, but in1868 it was the center of all meat trades in London, which itself was the center of trade in all of England. Because of its particular timing in terms of technology, (before electricity, refrigeration, or the combustion engine) it boasted a unique system of push-rails that stretched for a staggering 15 miles with hooks for 60,000 pieces of meat! Of course, without refrigeration this meant the meat was at least 3 weeks old by the time anyone who didn't live directly in London bought it... ew.

The iron-work is the original work, but has recently been re-painted to exactly match the original victorian colors from 1868. It's a perfect example of the guady over-the-topness that made Victorians famous for splitting the fence 'tween lovers and haters.



Below is a shot of the main entrance, including a fierce English dragon and a "Warrior-queen to ward of meat thieves I suppose." -Peter

As we left the eternal Warden of Meat behind we walked to another one of Peter's secluded diamonds in the ruff:







One of the funny facts about this place centers on the picture to the left. This is a balcony that was later added by a Bishop Bolton, who eventually grew so fat he couldn't fit through the doorways to attend services. He had this special window built so he could watch from the upstairs window.
     If you look closely at the central stone-carving beneath the window you'll see something that looks like a keg crossed vertically with a cross-bow bolt. A bolt and ton, Bolton, get it? Obese bishops were nothing if not amused by their own wit.

"Ah good, I see that most of you are not pegans." We looked around in confusion after Peter turned and spurted that out. He went on to explain that it was considered highly offensive if a passerby avoided stepping on the graves of the bishops beneath their feet. That's right, those square pieces of cement are the actual grave sights of past Bishops. They were buried in "hopes that they would be connected to future generations, even from death." Eerie. This began and continued from the 13th century onwards. The concept of stepping over someone's grave being bad luck had not been formulated yet.


Charter-house square is directly opposite the Charter-house, fitting right? This park is beautiful. The two tall towers in the back are parts of the Barbican. Peter told us of a friend who bought a five-bedroom apartment on the 11th floor: 3.8 million pounds.












In 1533, King Henry of England was so furious at his wife Catherine of Aragon's inability to bear a male heir. Plainly, he wanted a divorce so he could marry Anne Boleyn, but the Roman Catholic Church wouldn't allow it. So what do you do if you're king? Divorce the Church! He divorced himself from the church, declared England a Protestant nation. So King Henry goes through all of London destroying Catholic centers and rebuilding protestant churches. Of course some people, namely devout Catholic monks in this Charter-house priory, had a problem with this. The result is a bunch of militant monks throwing burning oil over the walls onto the King's soldiers. Seriously. Quaint isn't it? Eventually, 15 monks were taken out and executed in the park behind me. Not something to smile at but I need my screen time to prove I was here!
    


Our walk took us through the Guild Hall, built in 1411. The Guild was comprised of representatives from dozens of different professions, each coming together to govern London as individual Guild members.








Our adventure took us across the Bank of England. The American Equivalent would be Fort Knox. The difference however is: ours has a heavy military presence, while theirs is meant to impress you to death before you can get close enough to any money/gold.











I think I did a considerably better job of taking pictures of myself, and my classmates. On the right is Michael, a jolly good chap. The pleasant looking girl gazing into the camera below is Victoria :) herro