This also has been one of the dark places of the earth.
Am I the only one who can’t see the River Thames without thinking about Joseph Conrad and Heart of Darkness?
Probably.
Heart of Darkness is one of my all-time favorite books. I first had to read it in high school, and – not knowing anything about the Thames (or London really) – that line has always stuck with me.
“One of the dark places of the earth.”
To this day, I can’t hang out in central London without thinking about that line.
The book begins on a ship that’s anchored on the Thames, somewhere past London. At sunset, a sailor named Marlow, apropos of nothing, starts telling a story.
He begins by pointing out that for the Romans, this stretch of river was “the very end of the world” – a barbarian-controlled wasteland with little appeal for a civilized man… A malarial swamp surrounded by impenetrable forest and “utter savagery”.
These days it’s changed a bit. I’m only here for one day, and not even in London. Today, one of Morena’s business trips has taken us to Staines-upon-Thames, a market town about 30 kilometers west of London and home to the famous (and fictional) Ali G.
Welcome to Staines-upon-Thames
With history dating back to the Paleolithic era, and once a center for linoleum manufacture, Staines is now a quaint suburb of London, with a little high street, a couple of pubs, and several swans floating on the river under a white granite bridge.
There is, one of Morena’s co-workers complains, “absolutely nothing here” – a phrase which always irritates me, when applied to towns in Europe. As a person who grew up gazing through the windows at a dirt road and an endless expanse of cacti and sagebrush, this is not “absolutely nothing”. It is, in fact, a market town with pubs, swans, bridges, Indian restaurants, coffee houses, hotels, a shopping center, and even a Primark.
There’s a train that’ll get you to Waterloo Station in half an hour.
There is – and I will go to my grave asserting this – actually quite a lot going on in places like this.
Actually, if ever you find yourself lamenting the lack of entertainment and culture in a place like Staines, please go spend 20 years on a remote patch of Arizona desert before coming to me with your complaints. I would have loved to grow up in such a cosmopolitan environment.
All that aside, my goal today is Runnymede.
Runnymede is perhaps not on everyone’s sightseeing itinerary, but it is on mine: it is here that, in the year 1215, the Magna Carta was signed by King John. The Magna Carta Libertatum – the Great Charter of Freedoms! It’s not exactly the Holy Grail, or the remains of Saint Ursula, but what more do you need for a British town?
Walking out of Staines, though, I soon find that Runnymede isn’t a town at all, but a meadow. An unassuming stretch of grass spread out on one side of the river Thames, surrounded by “NO POACHING” signs.
There’s a “pleasure ground” along the way, with a monument to a younger Queen Elizabeth II, a few cafés selling ice cream for dogs (nothing here, indeed!) and then a couple of signs from the National Trust. “Eight Centuries of the Rule of Law”.
The actual Magna Carta monument was apparently built by the American Bar Association. A bit further on, there’s a monument to President John F. Kennedy, complete with a seven-ton stone bearing the words “Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.”
That’s from his inaugural address, in 1961. It sounds pretty good. And quite unlike our current crop of politicians.
About the Magna Carta
The Magna Carta wasn’t a declaration of human rights in the way we currently understand such things. But it is an iconic document, limiting the powers of kings and eventually inspiring the writers of the US Constitution. Here in Spain, the expression “Carta Magna” is a synonym for a national constitution – I’ve seen it used to refer to the Spanish constitution of 1978.
The original Magna Carta, signed right here in 1215, gave rights to the church, prevented the arbitrary imprisonment of England’s nobles, limited feudal taxes, promised access to a swift and impartial justice system and more. The line “no person shall be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law” from the 5th Amendment to the US Constitution is derived from the Magna Carta, which promises…
No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of his rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled, or deprived of his standing in any way […] except by the lawful judgment of his equals or by the law of the land.
Magna Carta, clause 39.
Really, it was an agreement between the unpopular King John and some rebellious barons: wealthy landholders who were sick of being taxed in arbitrary ways. As you probably know, the authors of the US Declaration of Independence were also wealthy landowners, and when they said “liberty” they probably meant something along the lines set down in the Magna Carta… not exactly what we mean today.
(Incidentally, Ron Chernow’s biography, Washington: A Life, suggests that the Founding Fathers were shocked at how little time it took the American people to decide that all the talk about liberty they’d heard during the Revolution actually applied to them, and not just to the super-rich. Their society was classist in ways that seem insane if you read about them now, and “freedom for all” wasn’t a part of their original calculations.)
Anyway, this is Runnymede, and it’s hot – one of the few hot days in the short British summer.
Historic Old Windsor
I think about stopping at the Magna Carta tea room (run by the National Trust, apparently) for refreshment, but it’s getting on towards lunch time and I could also use some real food.
So I walk on, past a sign welcoming me to “Historic Old Windsor, Home of Saxon Kings – Please Drive Carefully” and then through a town of cute English houses with high peaked roofs.
Over here is Windsor Castle, also run by the National Trust – it’s closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
I can’t be the only American who learned more about the UK from the Beatles than I ever did in history class. All this talk about the National Trust has me thinking of the line from “Happiness is a Warm Gun”, which goes “a soap impression of his wife that he ate, and donated to the National Trust”.
Be careful when googling the meanings of your favorite Beatles lyrics: you might just find out some phrase you’d enjoyed for several decades is little more than a line they got from a magazine while tripping on acid. Apparently, to “donate to the National Trust” means to take a dump on public land. Also, the “warm gun” may refer to John Lennon’s penis. Sorry ’bout that.
I find a place that’s got Nepalese food that’s open for lunch, and have a Himalayan Chicken Curry with starters and rice for just 40 pounds. When I’m done, I figure I might as well walk up to see if I can head through Windsor’s gardens. Apparently I can’t, so I end up on the small highway in the heat, going under the flight path to Heathrow.
The Playing-Fields of Eton
After an hour, I’ve walked halfway around the outside wall of Windsor Castle’s gardens and reached the town of Windsor, where I stop for an iced coffee. Looking around, I see a sign that says “Eton” pointing across a bridge.
The Duke of Wellington never actually said that the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of Eton. But the quote has long been attributed to him nonetheless. And George Orwell definitely did say, in The Lion and the Unicorn, ‘Probably the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of Eton, but the opening battles of all subsequent wars have been lost there.’
He was lamenting the decline of his political class – a thing we’re all given to doing from time to time. In any case, I can’t be bothered to walk across this new town to have a look at Eton College. Just knowing it’s not a fictional (or metaphorical) place will have to be enough, for today.
Looking at Eton’s website, I learn that tuition is about 53,000 pounds a year, plus some extras (school trips, membership in the boat club, etc.) Also, “Every year, up to 12 talented boys whose life opportunities may have placed them at a disadvantage receive an Orwell Award.”
Orwell himself went to Eton on scholarship. I wonder how he would feel about having a program for disadvantaged boys named after him. (Or how he’d feel about the word Orwellian, for that matter – or whether he’d absolutely love the TV show Big Brother, if he were still around.)
Anyway, being less than awed by the lives of royalty and other “upper class toffs”, I decide to call it a day and head back to the hotel. The train has me back in Staines-upon-Thames in 15 minutes, and I collapse in the hotel bed for a while, exhausted by my long walk in the hot British weather.
The Return of Morena
Morena’s been at the office all day, but around 7 PM she’s back at the hotel for dinner. I’ve started pre-gaming with some alcohol-free Heineken, so I’m re-hydrated by the time she arrives.
The restaurant has fish and chips, but of course they’re calling it “beer battered haddock with triple cooked chips and crushed minted peas”. That’s what I’m getting.
“It’s not going to be very good”, says Morena.
“It’s never very good! But I can’t come to the UK without having fish and chips.”
Heavy northern foods appeal to my Viking genetics. In fact, my Himalayan Curry lunch was a bit of a compromise with myself – I’m trying to avoid most things glutinous these days, but I’d almost stopped at a typical old-style pub for a steak and ale pie instead. Now I’m going all in on local cuisine.
I have no conclusion to this article. It’s been a good day. The beer battered haddock is average, and filling, and I’ve also checked Runnymede off my bucket list of places to visit as a history nerd. And tomorrow, for reasons I’ll explain in a future article, we’re off to the Bahamas.
Keep it real out there, y’all.
Yours,
Daniel AKA Mr Chorizo.
P.S. For more articles about going places, check out the infamous anti-tourism squirt guns, tourists vs travellers and how Google Maps has changed travel. Enjoy!
P.P.S. If you’re a history nerd, do you have any places you want to visit? When I was in Philadelphia a few years ago I considered walking out to Valley Forge. And I’d love to swing by Thermopylae and Mount Olympus at some point. But maybe my list is a bit weird. Anyway…
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