One day in Portsmouth: HMS Victory and minibus racing
We went to Portsmouth at the insistence of my husband, because. it is there that the local Aurora, HMS Victory, is permanently laid up, on which Admiral Nelson fought at Trafalgar and died.
In general, they are worn with the Battle of Trafalgar and Nelson, as we used to be with the October Revolution and Lenin. Wherever you poke, all the "name of Nelson" or "Trafalgar Order of Nelson . . ".
We got to the city by National Express bus. Travel time from London Victoria Station is 2 hours 15 minutes. The terminus is right across the street from the historic docks and active naval base. You can walk along the historical dock, but they require money for the entrance to each ship and museum. Tickets are sold according to a strange, in our opinion, scheme. There is a one-time ticket for one ship/museum of your choice, costing £.12. For 18.5 pounds you can buy an annual ticket that includes all the attractions, but you can enter each of them only once (the name of the attraction is carefully crossed out from the ticket at the entrance so that God forbid you don’t go twice), and for 35 pounds you can buy the right to visit all this maritime splendor an unlimited number of times within two years. For British citizens, a discount of 1 pound. Since we ourselves are not local, we bought tickets for 18.50. Having arrived for one day, it is physically impossible to visit the entire list of sights available for sightseeing - we multiply the number by the minimum required viewing time, minus the closing time (they close early, at 1630) and we get 3, maximum 4 places in the remainder.
Since we were driving for Victory, we decided to start with her. Only groups are allowed on the ship, recruiting them by a certain time. On this day, the first one was at 1210. There were only Englishmen with children in the group, there were only two of us from foreigners. A nice aunt-guide came out in a marine uniform with a picture of a ship, counted us over our heads (on the way out she counted again so that no one was left in the holds), and led us along the decks. Unfortunately, photography is strictly prohibited inside the ship, so just trust me - it's great! A genuine ship of two hundred years ago, even after restoration, gives a sufficient feel for how “comfortable” sailing was in that heroic era. The height of the battery decks does not exceed 165 cm. The tour lasts an hour, at the end the tall men, tired of bending over, began to bump their heads against the lanterns and cross beams more and more often. For the construction of one HMS Victory, 5.500 oaks were exhausted, not counting auxiliary trees, and hundreds of such ships were built in that era - it is understandable why it is difficult with the forest in England and other maritime powers.
Further, our path lay in the dock, in which Mary Rose is located. This ship was built in the era of Henry Tudor, but sank as soon as it left the pier for the first time. "Thanks" to the anti-bumping nets, the whole team sank along with the unfortunate ship. It was raised by divers from the bottom of the bay, where it lay peacefully for almost 400 years, in 1982, and is now in a sealed glass box, where it is impregnated with a special compound to prevent further destruction. The cost of such processing is about 250 thousand British pounds per year, the museum is actively looking for sponsors who want to help. The very same remains of the ship (slightly more than half of the hull, it fell apart along the keel during the tragedy) can be observed in the twilight through heavy fog and plentiful streams of polymer sprayed on top of it. There is a complete impression that the ship is at the pier during a warm night downpour. They promise to finish by 2010.
The next item on our program was the Royal Maritime Museum. Here, again, everything is dedicated to Victory - the personal weapons of the participants in that battle, their belongings, orders, etc. are on display, a model of the ship is presented in all possible angles. On the second floor of the museum there are authentic rostra and figureheads from various known and unknown ships. A few minutes later, experience began - a mini reality show based on the battle. Passing through the suite of rooms, we watched slides about the battle, visited the eerily authentic battery room with wax figures of sailors in the heat of battle and rumbling and moving cannons, saw the panorama of the battle. The show lasts 20 minutes.
The last to visit was HMS Warrior 1860. This ship stands at the very entrance to the docks, the only one presented in a wet dock and very heavily restored (plastic guns, metal cables, etc. ). Here, unlike HMS Victory, you can do almost everything - take pictures, touch, turn the steering wheel if you have enough strength (it consists of several wheels with a diameter of more than 2 meters). In the engine room, gloomy lighting and voice acting, imitating the work of machines and mechanics, causes an instinctive desire to escape to the upper, lighter decks.
After visiting the docks, we got hungry and, without further ado, went into the first tavern that came across between the dock and the bus station. Prices were pleasantly pleased with moderation. Having received our order, we were quietly stunned - we have never seen such large portions! And when they tried, they understood - and did not eat. Banal fish-and-chips performed by a local chef turned out to be a huge piece of the freshest, most tender fillet melting on the tongue in delicious batter, huge shrimp in garlic sauce is also beyond praise. A similar quality of seafood is possible only in the immediate vicinity of the fishing grounds. Either foreigners visit Portsmouth infrequently, or the service in the provinces is simply put on a different level, unattainable in the capitals, but a couple of minutes after serving, the barmaid came up to us and asked if we liked the food and if there were any additional wishes. Assuring her that everything is OK, continued to taste bliss. The girl went up to the old people at the next table, straightened the blinds so that the sun would not hit grandfather in the eyes. After a while, the cook came out of the kitchen. She took turns going around the tables where her works were served, and was interested in the reaction. Her husband made her glow with happiness, telling her in his not the best English that this was the most delicious dinner he had eaten during his stay on British soil. And it is true!
After dinner, we went to the bus to London. During our travels in Europe, we got used to the fact that the time indicated in the schedule is always respected. However, there was no bus at that time. We got worried - maybe we are not standing there? Several other people were waiting for this bus at the station, and everyone was worried with us. The bus arrived 7 minutes late. We took a seat behind the driver and prepared to take a nap on the way to the quiet muttering of the navigator "turn right, go straight. " It wasn't there! It soon became clear that the navigator was lying, and the driver himself (a pronounced Slav, probably from the former Yugoslavia or Poland) did not know the way! We, as visitors, did not understand anything, but literally after 5 minutes two students who looked like they ran up to the driver with the words “where are you taking us, Susanin? London to the other side! The carrier laid out a map on the steering wheel and began to stray. We arrived at our next stop 40 minutes late. Realizing that he was completely out of schedule and running into trouble, the driver, in the best traditions of the Russian driving school, despised all the rules. And the show began, which we see every day on the way to work, but which is a rare extreme for the British. We turned through forbidden lanes, drove through red and oncoming lanes, drove along the high-speed lane, honking and flashing headlights, driving respectable cars out of the way, etc. In my opinion, speeding was the most innocuous of violations. Let me remind you that the race took place on an intercity two-level bus. Elderly English women across the aisle from us were clutching the seats until their fingers were white, the students were jubilant. Upon entering London, we got stuck in a traffic jam near the Chelsea Bridge. Our driver, like a normal Tajik shuttle driver, did not want to be stuck in a traffic jam. Passing back and scaring away with the signals of the passenger car, he turned back on a narrow street, jumped over the curbs, knocked down some column, and, spitting on the ban, turned in the other direction. We arrived at Victoria from the other side with a 30 minute delay and at the departure platform instead of arrival (located in different buildings across the road). Passengers got out quietly and carefully, not believing their luck - they arrived! The students patted the unfortunate driver on the shoulder and ran away, and only one person ventured to ask - don't you think, comrade driver, that this is not the right station? To which the driver waved his hand and went into the rows of empty buses. It is with such trifles that the fall of empires usually begins - at first they screw up in a petty way.....
