Big Brother

Now I know why London is the home of George Orwell's Big Brother. There are cameras everywhere watching you. It reduces crime, The Man justified for them. People and signs tell you what to do, where to go, what's what, all the time.

For example, outside the hotel is a sort of park I think. I don't know for sure because the gates to it are locked. There is a sign on the gate that says, "Do Not Feed The Pigeons. It is Illegal." In smaller print on the sign is "Damage to this sign is an offence." So don't feed the birds and don't touch this sign. Really.

In the Metro, announcements go on and on and on, giving you directions, telling you where you are, advising where roadblocks and constructions are. These announcements are made in that sickly sweet, relaxed, robotic voice from 2001: A Space Odyssey. The voice intends to calm but if you submit to it, you lose your mind.

Even in washrooms they tell you what to do. I went into a public washroom where you have to pay. A man gestured me to put a coin here. Not just into this machine, but with his finger, he indicated exactly where the slot was, like I couldn't see it. He friend pointed at the coin return and said, "Get your change from here. Now walk through this turnstile."

When I was done, I wanted to wash my hands. I stood at a sink away from the cleaning woman. She said, "No, use this sink," pointing at the one closer to her. I walked away from her to use the dryer against the wall. She said, "Use this dryer," indicating the one beside her. I approached the exit turnstile. She shouted after me, "Push the green button to go out, push the green button to go out." Man, I wonder if she was peering into my toilet cubicle to make sure I was wiping myself properly. Later in the evening, when we passed by the washrooms again, we could hear the woman still shouting instructions to unwary users.

Today, The Man and I walked to Trafalgar Square. A giant TV monitor was broadcasting the Olympic closing ceremonies. The square was crowded and we watched the show for a while. Then we bought tickets to a Vivaldi, Mozart, Bach, and Pachebel concert inside the St. Martin-In-The-Fields church for tomorrow night! I loved that we stumbled onto this.

Inside the National Gallery, I stood in a symmetrical hallway that looked out to Trafalgar Square. The giant TV monitor in the square was positioned right in the door frame of this hallway. It took my breath away and I sat down on the steps. A guard came up immediately to tell me not to sit in the hallway.

Later, in one of the galleries, I sat down on a chair. A guard came and told me I was sitting in his chair, that I should use one of the benches in the middle of the room if I wanted to sit. They are everywhere these guards. But to their credit, when The Man asked one of the guards where the Turner paintings are, he knew exactly where they are and even suggested a route for us to take to see all of them. See, they really like telling you how to do things and where to go.

The National Gallery is full of beautiful paintings by old masters. Monet, Manet, Turner, Degas, Cezanne, Toulouse-Lautrec, they were all here. I was blown away. I came stumbling out of the gallery, overwhelmed. We went to a pub for refreshment. Looking around the pub, I feel I've been in here too. Could I have? Maybe I can find Big Brother and he will tell me.