The British Library

Shut up.

'This elf has an attitude,' you sigh, 'I'll just click to the next blog.'

Noooooooooo! Waaaaaaaaait!

I assure you, avid readers, that I have a reason for such despicable rudeness.

I'm outside the British Library.

No, no, no, I'm not saying that if you're in the British Library you can be rude (oh, by the way, person with the double cream sodas, is your nose out of joint or were you just born that way?), just that you're meant to be quiet in a library, etc, etc.

Some people these days are just so sensitive.

This strange building, which kind of looks like an abandoned ski slope, is right next to King's Cross. That's right. Where Harry Potter gets the train to Hogwarts.

Isn't it fitting that a library should be right next to a setting for one of the greatest pieces of children's literature?

You could combine a visit to Platform 9 3/4 with a trip to the British Library - or, for the wizards amongst you, you could do your Muggle Studies homework before heading north for the new school term.

When you go in, don't be offended if someone asks you to open your bag. They're just checking in case you're bringing in things you really shouldn't be. Like large amounts of fake snow for the slopes.

Once you're in, there's a gift shop selling lots of lovely items for all the bookworms in your life, and usually a couple of exhibitions too. The one running until the 20th January 2015 is 'Terror and Wonder: the Gothic Imagination' which would be great for Halloween too. I'll even give you a link to their events page here.

'That's cute,' you say, 'but where are the books?'

The books, dear reader, are in the Reading Rooms. If you want to get into them, you've got to register for a pass, and then you can reference the collection (you can't take the books out).

And after a long day of studying, you can even go to their cafe, or play ping-pong (really) in the courtyard outside.

I'm going back inside for another dose of elf-literature.

See you soon,

Elf Dryadalis

Post boxes: Worth writing home about.

You roll your eyes. You shake you head. It's not happening.

But, oh yes, Elf Dryadalis has indeed given this posting the title: 'Post boxes: worth writing home about'.

But trust me. It's true.

In this day and age of electronic communication, it's so wonderful to receive a postcard from those whom you love, when they journey abroad to distant lands. Like this one I received earlier:

Dear Elf,

I'm thoroughly enjoying my beach holiday. It's so nice to be sitting here, enjoying the rays, knowing that you're probably caught up in a torrential downpour.

I know you're far away. But that's fine. I like you better that way.

Don't come here, 

Elfred

See how touching it is?

These great big red columns are still to be seen throughout London, and it's well worth getting the Red collection in your holiday snaps:

1) Red bus
2) Red telephone box
3) Red post box
4) Red road leading to Buckingham Palace (including the guards in red uniform)
5) Seeing red when Elfred sends you postcards

It's also a great stage for dancing on. If you're six inches tall like me, that is. Drunken revellers aren't usually so well-received.

The 'EIIR' sign beneath the crown symbol, by the way, is for the Queen. (Regina is Latin for Queen, and it's Elizabeth the second, or II, on the throne).

Now. Time to write a reply to Elfred.

This could get nasty.

Best wishes,

Elf Dryadalis

Diwali in London

Do you know where I went this weekend? Do you? DO YOU?

Of course you don't. I haven't told you.

'You know what?', you ask, exasperated, 'I don't really care. In fact, I am about to callously abandon you and you London wanderings by cruelly clicking on the 'next blog' button'.

But alas, my unthrilled reader, you would then miss out on the big surprise.

Last weekend, I went to the Diwali celebrations in London.

'I know that,' you reply, so exasperated that the people at the Oxford English Dictionary photocopy your face as the definition of the word 'exasperated', 'I read the title'.

But, my dear schnookums, you would not know that I went to Trafalgar Square to celebrate it.

And celebrate it I did.

There was dancing and singing on the main stage, and the Square was packed. I went dancing along too, but at the cries of my wife (something about 'aesthetic crimes' and 'insult to dancing') I cannot publish those pictures here.

So instead, here's me looking glorious in front of some stores. Previous visitors to my little corner of the internet will recognise the National Gallery in the background.

The stores were selling pretty much everything from jewels to food (not the two mixed together. Awful indigestion).

Do you want to visit as well? The Diwali celebrations are on again, next year, at Trafalgar Square, sometime between the 11th November and 15th November (probably the 14th and 15th, to fit in with the weekend).

See you then!

Elf Dryadalis

There's something not quite right about this building.

Aha! I thought I might be seeing you again.

Why do you keep looking to the left of the picture? Is there something wrong?

'Yes!', you all cry, hysterical. 'That building is FLOATING'.

Why, indeed it is. How fascinating.

The angle of this picture also looks like it's about to move sideways, like a giant diabolical piano, and take the tops of my ears off.

It is basically the apocalypse.

So there's only one thing for an intrepid elf like me: get in closer.

(Don't ask me why there's always a guy's head in the corner. I don't know. Maybe I should get a better photographer.)

Anyway, until Mario Testino comes to offer his services to me, we'll just grin and bear it.

The building behind me (or, at least, what's left of it) is a tourist magnet, as crowds of people flock towards this structure which probably roasts and toasts health and safety officers for a living.

Naturally, the logical thing to do in this instance would be to run. I had the great misfortune to watch 'Pompeii' during the summer, and if there's one thing I learned, it's to move away, not towards, any collapsing building.

Yeah, but then again, life's too short. And possibly about to get even shorter, if that column above gives way.

WELCOME TO LONDON. THIS IS WHAT THE ENTIRE CITY LOOKS LIKE INDOORS.

Heh.

Heh.

Heh.

Not really, honest!

You can't go inside the building (I mean, why would you want to?) but the interior is exposed, and you can stick your fancy camera into all the nooks and crannies. Then go home, and tell your family that this was the hotel you stayed in.

And be banned from travelling ever again.

By this point, you probably think I have bats for brains for going in so close. And so I must inform you of the truth.

My head is full of polyester stuffing, not bats.

Oh, and as for the building, it's actually an installation by Alex Chinneck, whom I shall not be hiring as an architect anytime soon. I mean, how exactly do you explain something like this to the surveyors? 'Oh, it's not really an extension, it's a sort of hovering attic, you know?'

It's modelled on the Marked Building in Covent Garden, which is where it is, and you can see it, free of charge, till the end of October. The installation is called, 'Take my lightning, but don't steal my thunder', which is just asking for trouble from the British weather.

I think I'll run back to the safety of four solid walls.

Best,

Elf Dryadalis