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<DIV>which I was . . . one of the things that annoyed me was that when Richard
exits the florist’s shop in Bond Street he hears the bells of Big Ben (p.
20). You can’t hear Big Ben from Bond Street. Indeed, I defy you to
hear Big Ben – assuming that we’re ever allowed to wander the streets of London
again – flânerie anyone? (don’t get me started on that nonsense!) – and assuming
they ever finish repairing the Elizabeth Tower (as it’s now called) – even if
you concentrate every quarter of an hour – much further than Westminster
itself.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>And yet the Ward, Lock guide to London for 1934 says: “in calm weather its
resonant note may be heard over the greater part of London” (p. 98). Have
times really changed that much? The traffic sounded different then, but it
was just as bad as now (well not *now* of course). We have a lot of tall
buildings which must deflect the sound, I suppose. I am suspicious of the
statement, “over the greater part of London”. How big was this
London? The LCC (London County Council) was much smaller than the present
GLC (Greater London Council, from 1965), but I don’t think people thought the
LCC was coterminous with London. I presume Ward, Lock is thinking of
central London, the part that tourists would frequent. Marble Arch, for
example – could you imagine hearing Big Ben from Marble Arch? I
can’t. Also “in calm weather” – and on a Sunday perhaps, with less
traffic? I remain to be convinced.</DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>I don’t know if this is relevant, but at the beginning of ch. 2 of “The
[Bloomsbury] Boarding-house in “Sketches by Boz”: “<SPAN
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clock of New Saint Pancras Church [Euston Road] struck twelve, and the Foundling
[between Brunswick and Mecklenburg Squares], with laudable politeness, did the
same ten minutes afterwards, Saint something else struck the quarter . .
.” No mention of Big Ben.</SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN
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<DIV><SPAN
style="FONT-FAMILY: ; WHITE-SPACE: normal; WORD-SPACING: 0px; TEXT-TRANSFORM: none; FLOAT: none; COLOR: ; ORPHANS: 2; WIDOWS: 2; DISPLAY: inline !important; LETTER-SPACING: normal; TEXT-INDENT: 0px; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-color: initial">On
the other hand, *that* reminds me of </SPAN></DIV>
<DIV><SPAN
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<DIV><FONT style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffffff"><SPAN
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my party, remember my party, said Peter Walsh as he stepped down the street,
speaking to himself rhythmically, in time with the flow of the sound, the direct
downright sound of Big Ben striking the half-hour.<SPAN> . . .
</SPAN></SPAN></SPAN>Still the last tremors of the great booming voice shook the
air round him; the half-hour; still early; only half-past eleven still. . . .
</FONT><FONT style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffffff">Ah, said St. Margaret's, like a
hostess who comes into her drawing-room on the very stroke of the hour and finds
her guests there already. I am not late. No, it is precisely half-past eleven,
she says. Yet, though</FONT> she is perfectly right, her voice, being the voice
of the hostess, is reluctant to inflict its individuality. Some grief for the
past holds it back; some concern for the present. It is half-past eleven, she
says, and the sound of St. Margaret's glides into the recesses of the heart and
buries itself in ring after ring of sound . . .<SPAN
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<DIV><SPAN
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<DIV><SPAN
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<DIV><SPAN
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341)</SPAN></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></DIV></BODY></HTML>