Shades of Grey

No visit to Barcelona is complete without a visit to the building site known as the Sagrada Familia. It is best to go early as it is a tourist magnet, being synonymous with Anton Gaudi.

It currently has eight spires, two sets of four opposite each other on the north and south facades. It will eventually be joined by four more on the east facade (which is only partially built) representing the twelve apostles. They will eventually be dwarfed, though, by a huge central tower over the central nave, representing Christ.

Much has been written (and photographed) about the two main facades, so I will constrain myself to lesser features.

Inside, the tall slender columns with their curious bulges are reminiscent of trees. Light floods in from the large hole above opposite the altar end as building work is only partially complete. The column colours vary, depending on the material chosen, the darkest ones in the centre being granite in order to support the huge weight of the tower which will eventually be built above.

Most of the windows have plain glass but there are some coloured ones, particularly at the west wall (altar). This rosary window is in an area inaccessible at present.

There are two lifts to visit the towers, diagonally opposite each other. The first one (near the entrance) goes up 10m higher than the other, to a height of 65m. The towers have been constructed to house tubular bells and have a narrow spiral staircase between the outer wall and the inner space. There are numerous opportunities to snap interesting views, the first of which is this statuary high on the wall of the nave complete wih stone umbrella.

Once you have descended down to the base of the spires, the rest of the journey is down a tight spiral staircase which is unusual in that there is no central column and the edge of the step itself forms a (not very useful) handrail.

The route to the South is up the lift, across into the second tower then spiralling down, returning to the first tower again. Towers three and four are not accessible and it is assumed that the carillon which can be regularly heard is over there. (Or, it might be an elaborate fake- there are several large loudspeakers at the top of tower two on the inside).

The route to the north is up the lift to 55m, then across to the other three towers, including the bridge behind the Cypress Tree. You are given a choice of which tower to descend by although there is little difference really, just a slightly different perspective. Signage behind barred grilles suggests that access to the public has altered over the years and some are in use for construction worker access. Near the bases of the towers are elliptical cone shapes (the lifts pass through them) presumably to be able to get the bells in in future.

Back to ground level, the main part of the nave is full of scaffolding and the central area is being used as a finishing workshop for the stonemasons.

Once the tour of the interior is conplete the route continues in the crypt. This is a light airy space and full of museum exhibits and models. There is also a chapel down there under the altar but it was closed to the public.

The final part of the visit is to the former schoolhouse with the undulating roof. There are many explanatory panels about the geometry behind Gaudi’s column & roof design and one puzzle is made clear by an illuminated model- the recesses on the columns are for lighting fixtures.

Here are a few miscellaneous shots. The first is a pinnacle framed by a balcony opening.

This is a view of the roof works from one set of towers to the other. The base of the main tower is taking shape.

This is the top of the Cypress tree from the balcony behind.

David in a recess across from me in one of the towers.

Some miscellaneous pieces complete with Terrazo tiling in the Nave.

This curious stone structure on a balcony apparently represents the planets, according to the guide book.

Opposite the Cypress tree linking bridge, there is a matching bridge on the Passion facade. This bronze statue is symbolic of Christ ascending to Heaven. David wondered if he was going to jump!

Morley was busy today, a St. George’s Market with lots of craft stalls and such along with some small fairground rides & sideshows courtesy Mr. Tuby. One retailer commented that there may as well be parallel lines down the centre of Queen Street though, such little difference it made to footfall towards him. It was very cold and rather windy but at least the rain held off. (The BBC are forecasting light showers for tomorrow which may well put a dampener on the St. Georges Day Parade).

Like most small Towns, Morley isn’t really self-sustaining enough for many to make a decent living out of retail. Specialist shops come and go whilst others scrape a living, hoping for a good Christmas. (A jeweller friend of mine put it more succinctly- “Retail is F*cked”). Morley has developed a niche in charity shops but that isn’t overly welcome by many, especially when they sell new goods with a much lower cost base (volunteer staff, free or much reduced rates etc.) There is talk of a “Cafe Culture” but it isn’t something Councillors will ever achieve in a talking shop, only the people with flair, talent and financial backing who decide to set up. The other downer on this is a certain level of Chav culture that make many of our Town Centre Pubs not overly attractive.

Morley has not yet succombed to a Netto (although one has been previously planned) and even Fine Fare pulled out a few years ago. Morley does have the advantage of free parking but there is not quite enough and about the only thing we specifically go into Morley for regularly ourselves are Wilsons Sausages.

Thinking back to Forty years ago, there seemed to be a shop on every corner. When we lived in the West End of Newcastle, we could get all our daily needs within 200 yards of our terraced flat and there was even an electrical goods shop on the corner. About the only thing not close by was a furniture shop- you needed to travel a bit further afield for those.

A shop very close to us was Quinns the Butcher- ran by a friendly Father & Son team and part of my schoolboy round of saying hello. They showed me how they made sausages with the mincer, first of all sliding yards of cat gut onto the nozzle then skillfully knotting them into bunches as the tube extruded itself onto the block. I can remember having a swordfight with the old man once, him holding out his knife sharpening round rasp whilst I “on guard”ed him with my John Steed Avengers sword hidden in an umbrella. Being made of plastic, it sheared after my third playful tap. He was mortified that it broke so I took the opportunity to disembowel him with my razor-lined bowler…

Now I have no idea of the gross margins the shop took but I recall that his equipment was fairly new and the Son ran a large Motorbike so they must have done OK. (I was fascinated by the cylinder head on the bike and foolishly touched it one day to feel the texture, leaving a lump of skin behind!)

I contrast that with my visit last year. The Son ran the shop, the sign was hand painted (& peeling), the opening times appeared to be in crayon on a paper bag in the window and the proprietor looked as clapped out as his equipment. It wasn’t actually dirty but it did look rather worn out. Most people don’t want skilled butchery any more, they would rather go and pick a cut from the shelves where it is presented in the best possible light (although often a misleading one). So begins the vicious circle of perishable retail- the less customers the less stock and the less choice. Of course, the Quinns would have gone to the local cattle market to choose their own stock but cattle markets are regional now, slaughterhouses are bogged down in EU red tape and it wouldn’t surprise me if he just buys from a wholesaler these days.

Morley Market still seems to be able to support several butchers but the mighty Wilsons just seems to be a retail outlet of the mail order now, with all but the pies pre-packaged. (they even keep some lines in the freezer in the cellar for when they run out of fresh).

Should we be worried about the death of retail? Well, if we all worried about it to the point of not shopping at the big supermarkets then it wouldn’t occur. If we didn’t live in vast urban conurbations where the nearest shop is a drive (or bus ride) away and it is just as easy to go a bit further and have lower prices/more choice, not a lot will change.

How will retail look in another forty years? I can’t even guess.

Our Guinea Pig is dragging his back legs. The vet will be X-Raying him tomorrow and we are holding our breath as it could be one of several things.

We are hoping for the best but planning for the worst.

I have a few themes floating around but they all deserve more time and thought than I can spare. So, until the missing muse comes back, I’ll leave you with this…