In retrospect a conference on the rather specific subject of Status epilepsy (in other words a seizure which persists and does not spontaneously abort) lasting 3 whole days, was not surprisingly, confusing and far too esoteric. It was for the most part very research based with lots of complex slides showing the histology of various brain cells from slaughtered rats or cats. There was much talk on nerve cell channels involving sodium, chloride and calcium. Again there were multiple mind numbing histological slides of nerve cells. The only fascinating aspect for me, is that on this occasion, the sacrificial beast apparently was a wombat, specifically the nerve cells and synapses of the wombat epididymus. ( part of one’s testicle) . If only someone could inform these scientists in their ivory towers, that there woud be much less flak from the anti animal vivsectionists if they were to switch to possums.
The Imperial College is an University complex in Kensington and is surrounded by imposing buildings housing museums of every sort. There is a Royal College of Music behind the Royal Albert Hall. The College of Music has a Museum of Musical Instruments. To my grief it was closed for Easter! I was dumbstruck as Easter had passed a week ago. I am far too British to argue or question this explanation and meekly left.
There is a Royal Academy of Music as well with a Museum and it is open! I looked up their syllabus and to my delight found that I could enroll in “period historical instruments” (the Recorder). As well I could have also taken lessons in the SACKBUT! It has a certain appeal. The head teacher is one Margaret Faultless. So I decided to set out via St Pancras Station, to visit the Academy Museum.
The St Pancras Station has a very special place in my distant memory as it was how I entered London for the very first time, more than 30 years ago. I had, on the first attempt, successfully passed Basic Physician training exams. Some may scoff that it was easier in those days, well I hastened to state that it was not! Dare I say it but the clincal exam at least was much more demanding. Anyway this is a good subject for debate upon my return.
Be that as it may, I took a year off, what is now called a ‘gap year’ and travelled Europe. I left Sydney and flew to Nepal, India and thence to London. For Nepal it was my third visit, the outcome of an affair of the heart, worthy of another chapter of the book of my life.
So I was about 26 and I suspect rather hippy in appearance with the mandatory Tibetian jacket and rather longish hair. I was mortified when I was pulled over at Heathrow on my arrival and subjected to a very thorough search of luggage, I recall they squeezed my toothpaste. My body was left ‘intact’, nothing squeezed or penetrated thankfully. What made it all the more unfathomable was that then in the 1970s we, Australia, were in the Commonwealth and so Aussies were privileged to enter Great Britain via the GREEN lane, nothing RED about this young man. It was definitely not British to be cut out from the flock like this as far as I was concerned.
So I took that train from the airport and it arrived at St Pancras Station. A beautiful edifice that reminds me of some of the unique buildings hidden in the hotch potch that is Hindley Street, Adelaide, although 10 times bigger. Hence I revisited this architectural wonder, now a National Trust Heritage site. My very first night was spent in a sort of back packers appartment very near the station. I am sure it no longer exists as the station is overshadowed by modern tall buildings.
Serveral photographs of the timeless facade and building that is St Pancras Station, London, the entry point for my first trip to London all those years ago.