Street decorations in London

 'You haven't posted in ages,' you say accusingly.

YEAH I KNOW.

You see, this time of year is when elves like myself are traditionally overworked, while that fat lump of a Santa Claus gets all the credit.

So I'm going on strike until the New Year, to buck the trend.

Anyway. Here are the best street decorations around London. The one above is South Molton Street, which kind of looks like it's a Christmas tree as well as an archway into shameless consumerism. Cool.

 Meanwhile, New Bond Street thinks it's a peacock. Awesome.

And finally, Regent Street screams, 'Yes, we're sponsored. No, we don't even intend to watch the film, but they offered to pay for our lights, so, whatever.............'

Merry Christmas!

Elf Dryadalis

Christmas Trees of London 2014

It's time for another countdown. This time, of the Christmas Trees of London (oh, you already worked that out from the post title? Well, aren't you smart.). We start off, as ever, with the most visually offensive, aesthetically shocking and plain revolting, before gliding upwards to levels of sublime bliss. Sort of.

4. Fenwick

What. Is. This.

I mean, what is it?

It's like what happens when you feed a flock of pigeons a mixture of glitter and laxatives, then let them loose on a tree.

Tinsel overload, people. I appreciate the 45,673 hours it took to hang up all those little balls of Christmas spirit, but sometimes, when it comes to white baubles, less is more.

3. Trafalgar Square

Umm, okay, when I advocated 'Less is more', I didn't mean to more or less leave the tree plain! Honestly. You just can't win.

This homage to lights in straight lines looks utterly underwhelming, until you put it in context next to the National Gallery and the rest of the Square. Like this.

Ahh. That's cuter. And it looks even better at night.

Don't hate the blur, people. That's just enthusiastic camera shake. And trying not to get run over whilst taking the photo.

2. The British Library

It twinkles. It sparkles. It's so dark you can't even see the tree.

This is why fairy lights were invented. So you don't walk into a 10ft concoction of pine needles on your way to find the perfect book.

Here we have a lovely show of what happens when you carefully place fairy lights, but don't make it too obvious that you've stressed for half a year over precisely how to display the darn things. So it looks almost random, like you haven't stressed for half a year.

But people will know you've stressed for half a year. Because it doesn't look like you've stressed...........oh, you get what I mean.

1. Fortnum & Masons

'You filthy hypocrite', you cry, fingers pointed accusingly at the Fenwick/Fortnum tree similarities, 'This one looks like the pigeons have been smoking something illegal'.

Ah, yes. There are white baubles, fairy lights and a very fat tree. But alas, dear readers, notice the difference. This tree looks so inviting. The baubles are well-spaced out, so it doesn't look messy, and the fairy lights light up the background so the whole monstrosity, sorry, display, looks like a postcard picture.

The tree is inside Fornum and Masons, and it's free to look at. I emphasise this, because if you do go inside, thinking you'll look at the tree and then maybe pick up a gift or two, FORGET IT.

Unless, of course, you are a multi-millionaire, in which case donations are gladly accepted, with Elf's deepest gratitude. (If you don't wish to donate, please list your reasons for not doing so on the back of a £50 note and send it to me. I'll be sure to read each one very carefully).

Because everything here costs about a zillion pounds, even the chocolates. And the baubles aren't exactly cheap either.

At least it's free to look.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Christmas shop windows in Oxford Street

It's okay. You're not hallucinating. This is actually a penguin giving a cookery lesson.

In the shop window of John Lewis.

The penguin's not real.

'Oh dear!,' you exclaim, 'I've already called the RSPCA'.

Right then. That's your attitude, is it? Here's a penguin, happily making a calorific monstrosity for its kids, and you think it's cruelty. Think about your poor old Elf. I walked around for three hours to reach the penguin cookery demonstration (that is to say, the penguin doing some cooking, not someone cooking a penguin), and have a good old glimpse of all the shop windows along Oxford Street too.

The things I do for this blog.

Anyway, here I am proud to present to you, the famous (not really) Elf Dryadalis' Award for the Best Window Display. Let's go through the countdown.

5) Marks and Spencer

'What's that?' you ask, 'A multi-storey car park?'

Well, yes, I admit that it isn't exciting. In the slightest. The strings of lights change colour, and that's about it. It's in fifth place because I admire Marks and Spencer's cheek in using the same old 'Magic & Sparkle' advertising manta for about the millionth year in a row.

The changing colours are also vaguely hypnotising.

4) Debenhams

'Found it!' the advertising proudly proclaims. Yes, my dear, but what have you found? The perfect present? Old socks you dropped down the sofa last year? I presume it is the former, although, you never know, Debenhams does smell, sorry, sell, socks.

It's an impressive horde, certainly, but it's just overwhelming. All the products are just piled up, and I'm not getting the 'I MUST HAVE THAT SPARKLY THING RIGHT NOW' vibe. And let's face it, vibes for sparkly things are what Christmas is all about. (Who's Jesus? Never heard of the guy).

Aha. So that's what the 'Found it' tag is for. Someone found the building. And stuck a tag on it. Mystery solved.

3) Boots

Aww. This looks so traditional. That is to say, as traditional as you can get with metres of electrical lights, modern plastics and synthetic sparkles. But you get what I mean. It's got stars, it says 'Merry Christmas' (why, thank you, but it's only the 3rd of December), it screams at you from across the street.

Oh, and I have no idea if it's actually coming from Boots, but around that area of Oxford Street, fake foam snow is falling. It looks cool, and confuses everyone.

And you think, 'Oh dear, this might be slippery, I might have to get new boots'. And by magical advertising osmosis, you think, 'Boots!' and run across. Only to realise they don't actually sell boots.


2) John Lewis

They have a penguin in a bra. That should surely mean John Lewis cinches the top spot, but it's just that I'M SICK OF PENGUINS. They're everywhere. On that bloomin' advert, sold in stores (not the real ones! Put down your phone to the police), even in little promotional flyers advising me to adopt one this Christmas. Penguins are bigger than me, okay. I'm not adopting anything that could stomp me.

You might think that putting a penguin in a bra is rude. Well, just wait till you see this.

Perhaps it's time to move on.

In other news, penguins have been so sick of appearing on screen that they've seized equipment and are turning the cameras back on the humans.

In this shocking image, we see a full-sized penguin in a heated confrontation with the black cylinders of doom.
I presume that this is meant to make us buy cameras. But I'm too busy wondering how a penguin could possibly operate the controls on a DSLR, and whether or not the cameras would freeze up in an arctic environment. I tried asking the penguins, but they were unresponsive. So rude.

1) Selfridges

Father Christmas has given up. He followed his new GPS to try and find some kids' homes, and after ending up in a cul-de-sac, a disused quarry and a ditch, he's finally gone back to the paper version.

However, he now needs a hammer to break out of Selfridges' shop window.

Here, Selfridges gives the unwitting shopper due warning: this window is gold, because you'll need plenty of it to buy anything inside. A great 'Buyer Beware' campaign.

Umm, that's not an entire building stuffed inside a window - it's just the reflection (unless the building had GPS too, and went the same way as Father Christmas).

It's so sparkly. Selfridges has turned its products into set pieces, and made the shopper want to look in the windows, rather than hurry by, muttering dark thoughts about how Scrooge had the right idea (although of course, you may be muttering this anyway if you walk in and see the prices).

Selfridges is very confident of itself; it's even called its shop 'Destination Christmas' (so that's what Father Christmas typed into his sat nav). It's framed by a couple of mushrooms, which either give the place an 'Alice in Wonderland' type feel, or make you consider smoking a couple to get over the stress of Christmas shopping.

If you're feeling the it's the latter, I suggest you just cancel Christmas. There's no point in smoking mushrooms out of stress, when you could just wait until Boxing Day, buy up all the half price Christmas puddings, and get high on those instead.

And finally, a personal note, if I may. Of course I may, it's my blog. I notice this stunning unicorn advertising what looks like a doormat. Or it could be a £1000 throw. You never know these days.

Anyway, I applaud Selfridges' brave decision to help increase the employment rates amongst my fellow fantasy creatures. It's a long hard road until we are represented in Parliament, but until then, we'll be campaigning for equal labour rights and representation in the boardroom.

Mental? Perhaps. But so would you be if you spent three hours walking along Oxford Street near Christmas time.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

 

Imperial War Museum

You know what? I have absolutely no idea what to write. I mean, yeah, sure, I can joke about buses that won't stop, and point out police horses, but how exactly do I go about introducing a museum dedicated to warfare?

I can't exactly say, 'Elf went to see the Imperial War Museum, and had a great time' because everyone will be up in arms (excuse the pun) and storm, 'Millions of people have died in conflicts across the world, and here you are, enjoying it as though it's entertainment'.

But then again, I also can't say, 'Elf went to see the Imperial War Museum, and despairs for mankind' because everyone will be asking, 'Is the museum really that awful?' when it isn't.

And then I'll have to fire these cannons at whoever asked that.

Only joking. You're very safe. I mean, look at the size of this mechanism. How exactly do you expect an elf like me to do anything with it?

Anyway. Let's go inside.

Now, when you first walk in, you either think it's an exhibition dedicated to stairs, or that Heathrow really has run out of room for more planes, and is stashing them here.

This says 'TV Press'. I pressed, but no TV came out.

This is a very sad exhibition. It's a plane which was shot down. It's weird, isn't it? Everyone (including me) is taking photos, and reading the little sign next to it, and thinking about the history. But the point is, someone died flying this plane. I think that maybe, even though museums are meant to bring us closer to history, the very fact that these objects are in a museum setting distances us from the real events. Perhaps it's better that way; it means we can take a step back and look at a highly emotional situation with more objectivity.

Now this is an interesting vehicle. The black round bit to the left of the photo is a seat; there are four of them inside the back. Quite frankly, if this were public transport I'd be complaining to TFL. Do you know what this vehicle actually is for?

(Here's a better picture of the seat, by the way. Not even a cushion with a dodgy pattern for your comfort.)

The outside of the vehicle might give you a clue. It's for desert camouflage - this is a Land Rover Snatch vehicle, used by British troops in Iraq. The sign says that these vehicles became known as 'mobile coffins' because they were so lightly armoured.

That puts groaning about the morning commute into context.

This rather unpleasant image dates back to the Second World War, which is why the Nazi symbol, the swastika, is displayed clutched by the bird's talons. Now, 70 years on, the swastika has become such a taboo symbol, that putting it in public view is likely to cause serious offence. Books containing Nazi propaganda, unless also containing rebuttals of those views, are taken out of circulating stock in libraries and bookstores. We forget that once, these symbols were seen, 'in real life' as it were. Displaying this sculpture is a great way to remind us of how much times have changed, and the power that symbols have when given historical significance.

You might be wondering whether or not to take children to the museum. Although there are exhibitions which children can see, and there were quite a few children when I went to visit, I'd suggest that you have a good look around yourself first. Some of the exhibitions cater to children well, such as the one on life in wartime Britain, which has interactive displays and lots for children to think about. However, some of the exhibitions probably aren't suitable for children to see. I'm not saying that kids should ignore what's happened in the past, but some of the more graphic exhibitions can be quite frightening, and probably best left until the child is older, or they'll have nightmares.

Then there's the question, 'What do I buy as a souvenir?'. There are a couple of gift shops which sell tasteful items, such as the keyring I'm wearing, as well as replicas of ration books, clothing, confectionery and books.

I'd advise you to plan at least 2 hours for your visit. I spent 3 there, looking though every single exhibition, and now I'm exhausted!

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Buses that won't drive off without you.

So.

You know when you're waiting in the London rain for a bus? You feel like you're standing, fully clothed (hopefully) under a freezing cold shower, splashes of muddy water soaking your socks, and arctic winds blowing into your face. That red beacon of warmth and hope seems so, so far away. You look at the indicator. It says the bus is due in a minute. The problem? It's been saying that for the past ten minutes. Or it could be the last few months. The icy water is leeching into your head and stopping you from thinking straight.

Finally, the bus arrives. You squeeze behind 10,456 other people also trying to get on, only to meet a wall of grumpy, squished commuter-sardine hybrids, each wearing an expression which should be weaponised by the Ministry of Defence.

So you stand, in your rain-soaked clothes, on a rain-soaked bus, and think, 'That's it. There's no point in waiting for 10 minutes/5 years for a bus that arrives late anyway.'

So the next day, you leisurely saunter out, and see the bus stop just down the road.

There's a problem. The bus is already there.

You run. You get muddy water all over you as you do your best impression of Usain Bolt.

You fall over.

You land on your bum.

In a muddy puddle.

And end up having to wait 5 years for the next bus anyway.

Sound familiar? Well, you're going to love these buses.

These small sculptures of routemaster buses are gaudily painted in a variety of colours, just to make you bitter and twisted about their relentless cheerfulness.

The design behind me shows day and nights, to highlight, I believe, the many days you must wait at a bus stop before your bus comes.

And here's another one, near Trafalgar Square, which shows the landmarks of London you could be touring whilst you wait behind Mr SmellyBreath for your ride home.

I mean, yeah, sure, you can't go anywhere on these. Each sculpture even has a prim little 'Do Not Climb' sign on its base, just in case you try.

But the best thing about these buses?

They can't drive off without you.

If you want to see more buses, I've generously, selflessly and philanthropically provided a link to the 'Sculpture Trails' website here. As you click the link, think of all 6.5 seconds your tireless Elf put in to provide it.

Hope you're feeling all warm and fuzzy inside,

Elf Dryadalis

Paddington Bear in London

So, my intrepid readers.

Into the darkness we go.

In darkest Peru, in deepest night.....

'Hey!,' you pipe up, 'it's blatantly daylight in your photo.'

Yes, yes, I know that, thanks. I mean, you don't seriously expect me to go out at night, do you? That's when I clamber up onto my bookshelf and sleep.

'Wait a second,' you say, eyes suddenly wide, 'there's a bear behind you! Run!'

Aha. So, in your desire to point out minute details, such as mistaking night for day, you overlook a giant threat to me. Uh-huh. A bear, in a yellow jacket, and a suspicious package which would certainly attract the attention of any security personnel.

My dear readers - relax.

This is a statue of Paddington Bear, who arrives at - you guessed it - Paddington in London, and is given a home by Mr and Mrs Brown. As you do.

He also likes marmalade sandwiches, and so his jacket's made out of orange slices.

You don't believe me? Do I actually have to go and point it out?

There.

Happy now? You know it took me an entire three seconds to walk up to the camera and point? Honestly. The things I do for this blog.

So - if you want to go and be greeted by a giant bear politely tipping its hat at you, go to Montague Street. Paddington Bear is right next to the British Museum, so you can even fit in a trip there too.

Oh, and if you want to see the actual Paddington Station, that's a considerable walk away. Best take the Tube.

And if you see any suspicious packages, report them to a member of staff or the police.

It might contain marmalade.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

St Paul's Cathedral

Hello MTV, and welcome to my crib.

Not really. This is actually me standing outside St Paul's Cathedral, which sits on top of Ludgate Hill, apparently the highest point in the City of London.

It was designed by Christopher Wren, who clearly really liked columns, and had a cool name to boot.

I could go on about the religious and cultural significance of the cathedral, but hey, it's MY BLOG. Yeah. That'll tell 'em.

Things at St Paul's which would look really nice in my home

1.

That dome. So cool.

2.

These flowers. There's a lot of greenery around St Paul's, which at lunchtime becomes mysteriously inhabited by a mixture of rich city types, skint students, and not-so-skint-but-will-be-after-they've-bought-souvenirs-tourists.

3.

Such an awesome location. You're near several mainline stations, as well as quite a few tourist attractions. For example, the Tower of London is a short walk away. You can also, from my unique vantage point behind a pillar, engage in the minority sport of Backwatching. This involves, um, looking at people's backs and admiring their shirts. Pink-shirted guy, I'm looking at you.

Things at St Paul's which they can jolly well keep

1.

The size. This isn't the main entrance. It's actually a more-or-less hidden bit round the side. Can you imagine living in a place this big?

Scene: At Night.
Elf: Oh my word, I need to go pee!
Elf looks at map of own home.
Elf: Oh dearie me, it's 3 miles away!
Elf gets out GPS. Desperate look on face. Starts hiking.

Dramatic camerawork, sweeping over towers, domes, columns etc. Cut to reeeeeeeallly desperate look on Elf's face.

Elf: C'mon, sprint for the last stretch!

Slow-motion zoom onto Elf's face. Pained expression. Sound effects.

Can you imagine? CAN YOU IMAGINE???

2.

Rules and regulations.

No climbing? And here, dear readers, do I take action against such a rule. And you see me, before your very eyes, climbing all 4 feet onto a bannister. Come on. Such rules are meant to be broken. And besides, the guy on the sign looks like he's doing a sort of victory punch, so clearly, rebellion is cool.

3.

Having to direct visitors all over the place.

If I were to live in such a building, I wouldn't be so kind as to put up a sign like this. Oh no. I'd direct cafe-seekers to the toilets, gift-shop-searchers to the toilets, photographers to the toilets......you get the idea.
Then I'd tell them it's a THREE MILE HIKE.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis