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Research at the British Library and a Walk in Victoria Park

Aug8

London

How is it August 8 already???!!! And where did this particular day go? Oh yes, it went while I was swatting in the library–the British Library, that is. Having had a full and fun weekend, I had earmarked Monday for research and since the British Library would probably have all the material I requested in today, it would be sensible to get down to some work. But first things first.

Bookings and Brekkie:
I awoke at 6. 30 am, lazed in bed for another 15 minutes and got cracking on my laptop. It was as good a time as any other to book coach tickets for Chriselle’s and my ride to and from Stanstead airport next month. It was fun (but a little nerve-wracking) to get online again making reservations for coach fares—but it was also thrilling to get such cheap ones. The earlier you book these coach rides from Victoria to the city’s airports, the more inexpensive they are. So there. Done and dusted. Now all I have to focus on in getting us accommodation. During the next few mornings, I must attack that project too.
Then it was time to get breakfast and a shower. I have gotten used to my Sainsbury fruit and nut muesli with honey yogurt and a cup of my Lavazza decaff coffee. Predictable but perfect. Why change a great thing? It was a day for a shampoo too–so with damp strands and my cheese scone with blue cheese filling made into a sandwich and a slice of date and walnut cake, I was out the door with my laptop and heading to the British Library.

At the Library:
It was beyond impressive how superbly the British Library delivers whatever it promises to! I got there about 11. 30 (after taking a call form my friend Bash just minutes before I put my phone on silent) and for the next five and a half hours, I was hard at work pouring over and perusing the documents and official files from the Records of the India Office that I had requested. Being a Modernist Post-Colonial scholar myself, I am not accustomed to looking at documents that date beyond the 1940s. So you can imagine the reverential awe with which I handled and read documents dating from the 1700s, handwritten on parchment-like surfaces in fountain pen ink with the most graceful penmanship. I also looked at files and letters dating from the 1860s and the 1890s that derived from the Government of Her Majesty (the Majesty in question being not our Queenie but her great-grandmom, Queen Victoria).  Naturally, I treated them with the greatest care and although they are in many cases falling apart, it was a massive pleasure to go over them, take pictures of them, make notes from them etc.  I stopped for a half hour to get down to the cafeteria to eat my cheese scone sandwich and then I returned to work.
At 5.00 pm, I  retrieved a whatsapp message from my friend Murali making arrangements to meet me at Liverpool Street Station at 6.00 pm. This suited me fine as I had already had my fill of inspecting and interpreting documents and felt the need to leave. I resolved to return tomorrow to go over more of the materials I have requested.  Just before I left, I popped into the cafeteria to have a slice of my cake with a hot tea. I then retrieved my laptop bag from the Luggage Locker and left the library.
It really was the perfect way to spend a cloudy and rather chilly day. I managed to get so much work done and I tracked down wonderful material that I will be able to use in my conference presentation in Edinburgh in Scotland next month.

Meeting Murali at Liverpool Street Station:
Liverpool Street Station was packed to capacity with commuters getting home from work after a long day as it is a major train hub. Elbowing through human traffic, I arrived at the Wasabi counter that he chose as a meeting place and after a fond reunion, we decided to get out of the crowds by coursing on foot through the side lanes.
However, my laptop was not the best appendage with which to be walking around and when Murali suggested that I go home to drop it off, I thought it sounded like a great idea. So off we went on the Tube to Stepney Green from where we walked to my house. After I’d given Murali the Grand Tour of a Far From Grand House, I dropped my laptop off, wore my Dansko clogs (perfect for walking) and off we went.

Exploring Victoria Park:   
Victoria Park is a vast expanse of green in the East End of London that was laid out in the 1840s and designed by Sir James Pennethorne who was a pupil of John Nash, the architect. In many ways, it replicates Regent’s Park in north-west London and is thought by many to be the finest park in the East End. It is massive (stretches all the way to Islington)  and superbly laid out and seems to go on forever, offering a green oasis amidst the urban sprawl. Knowing what I do about the poverty and hardship associated with the East End in Victorian and Edwardian times, I can just imagine what a welcome addition this park was to the plan of the area. Like everything that was created in the reign of Victoria, it was named after her!
Less than ten minutes after leaving my place, we were crossing the Hertford Union Canal (the one on the opposite side of the Park further in the east is the Regent’s Canal) over a small bridge and descending stairs that led to the tow path of the canal and its locks. The water was just as green with algea as it had been at Copperfield Road where the Ragged School Museum is located and where I had walked along the Regent’s Canal Tow Path yesterday. And then just a few feet ahead of us were the grand ornate gates leading into the park.
It is a lovely space and I am so fortunate to have Victoria Park to close to me. When I lived in Paris, my apartment building was directly opposite Parc Montsouris. I had considered myself lucky then…and I am just as lucky now–although truth be told, I have usually already done so much walking all day that most  evenings, I just want to sink down on my bed.
Still, we circumnavigated the large lake filled with mallard life and arrived at the Chinese Pagoda which I discovered to be a very recent replacement of the original one that stood there in the Victorian Age. It has all the color and style of a typical Chinese pagoda and it was irresistible not to walk right through it. The evening was simply perfect–the weather is holding out and there isn’t the sign of a drop of rain at all. After we had walked around for at least an hour and caught up on all the doings in Murali’s life and mine, we left the park and walked towards my home and the Tube station (for Murali).  We stopped en route to inspect a small food shop and I ended up leaving with rum and raisin ice-cream by Carte d’Or (earlier I had picked up biscuits) while Murali bought English cherries which are startlingly black but most delectable!
I warm to this friendship which is a direct result of this blog. Years ago, Murali had was looking for some information about a Gresham College Public Lecture I had attended and he came across my blog post. He contacted me, we made plans to have coffee and our friendship, since then, has grown from strength to strength. It is just fabulous to make a new friend who completely shares your own interests. When he is not traveling or working from Frankfurt, we hope to do a few city walks together as we share a passion for London. Lucky him–he actually lives and works here!

Dinner and a Blogging Session:
It was time to fix myself some dinner with the odds and ends in my frig. I had a cup of chicken soup, a small portion of my mashed cauliflower (which is still going strong!), a small portion of leftover chicken risotto and half a sausage. For dessert, I had blackberries which I had plucked from the City Farm with a helping of rum and raisin ice-cream.
Before I called it a night, I did a spot of blogging and then it switched off the light.
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Sunday Mass at St. Dunstan’s, Ragged School Museum and Q. Elizabeth Olympics Park

Aug7

London

Breakfasting for a Change with Company:
It was lovely to wake up and have company at home–for if there is one downside to my being here in London, it is that I have started to feel a bit lonely. I believe it has to do with the fact that I am living in a house with a garden (as opposed to a flat) and it certainly seems like too much house for one person. Anyway, hopefully I will not feel lonesome for too long…
N & C were downstairs by the time I finished blogging and scouting information on the Internet about the places I wished to see today. When I joined them, they were tucking into cereal and tea. I fixed myself some coffee and got my own cereal organized. We chatted a bit over brekkie and then at 9. 45 am, I excused myself to go to church.

 Mass at St. Dunstan’s Church on Stepney Green:
When I lived in Holborn, one of the oldest churches in England, a Roman Catholic one–St. Etheldreda’s–was right at my doorstep in Hatton Gardens. Now that I am here at Stepney Green, one of the oldest churches in the county–an Anglican one–is just a hop away: the Church of St. Dunstan’s And All Saints, which has stood on this tranquil spot since 975 AD.
And there really is a place called Stepney Green (after which the entire neighborhood is named). It is a proper ‘green’ which is a central bit of open space usually around a church and ringed by houses–this was the medieval pattern of town planning. Stepney Green abuts the church property–a vast and impressive bit of green dotted with graves and mortuary monuments. Sung Mass was at 10.00 am and I was keen to participate in it. In keeping with my custom of going to a different church each Sunday that I live in London, this was my choice this week.
The main celebrant was a Nigerian Anglican pastor usually attached to the Royal Hospital in London which is a short hop away. There were about fifty people in the congregation. The inside of the church is antiquated and although it suffered severe bomb damage during World War II (as did the entire East End of London) which blew out every bit of stained glass window, it has been rebuilt and still manages to look older than a few centuries. I enjoyed the service very much. The sermon was particularly wonderful: the main theme was that it is necessary for us to “Invest in Eternity.” I loved the concept as delineated by the priest.  After Mass, there was coffee and biscuits and fellowship–all Anglicans churches follow this custom and it is something I have always appreciated. It gave me the opportunity to meet a few people–a teacher who lives in Mile End but teaches chemistry in a school in Rochester, Kent; one of the female church wardens who gave me a mini tour of the interior, explained the reason why Christ is depicted so unusually on the modern stained glass windows (blonde and without a beard). It is because the artist modeled him on the features of the pastor of the time (of the post World War II period) who had commissioned the new windows! The chemistry teacher is in-charge of the bell ringers and the church has a lively tradition of bell-ringing. So, before I left the church, I received an invitation to join the bell-ringers on Thursdays at 7. 30 and try my hand at learning how to ring them. Apparently it is far more complicated than you would think! I have every intention of going there this coming Thursday as I am always up for one more new experience.

Back Home and then Out Again:
I took the bus home to change into something more comfortable and to make myself a sandwich for lunch. My intention was to get to a most unusual museum in London and one that is probably very little known–The Ragged School Museum at Mile End. In past visits to London, I have either been based in the West or in Central London. I do not really know the East End well at all–I figured this would be a great time to get to know it. Research told me about this strange museum and since it is open one afternoon on the first Sunday of every month, I decided to get there today.

Visiting The Ragged School Museum at Mile End:
It was really easy to get there. I took the Bus 25 to Mile End Tube station (one stop away) and then followed directions to get to the museum. This took me to the Tow Path of Regent’s Canal (which was also one of the items on my To-Do List) and on a glorious morning with the sun on my back and a cool breeze on my face, it was just lovely to walk along the banks of the sea-green canal (green with algea), passing one of the locks (Johnson Lock) and a number of walkers, joggers, bicyclists, etc. In less than ten minutes, I was at the doors of the Museum.
So here is a bit of history about one of the city’s most unusual places: The Ragged School is so-called because most of the girls and boys who attended it were so poor that they arrived in rags. It was founded by a Rev. Thomas Barnardo (you have probably seen charity shops all over the country that still bear his name). He was the son of an Irish mother and a Jewish father and hoped to be a missionary in China. When he was refused a commission to get there, he ended up in the East End of London in the 1880s when the area was one of the most impoverished in the country. He was so broken at the sight of starving children–so many of whom worked as chimney sweeps and died young for their pains–that he devoted his life to setting up a school to educate them to equip them for a better life. He rented three buildings along the canal that had been abandoned because they were pronounced uninhabitable and, through local fund-raising, set up a school that offered the children two meals a day: a breakfast of bread and hot cocoa and lunch of bread and soup. It would be the only food the children would eat all day–which was why their parents encouraged them to attend. By renovating the building, he turned the basement level into a play area, the main level was the office and the top level was a single classroom.

Getting a Victorian Lesson:
I joined a short line of visitors standing at the entrance, five minutes before the opening time of 2.00pm, most of whom were children. They had arrived in time for the monthly Victorian ‘lesson’ that is taught by a Victorian class-teacher in an actual Victorian classroom–just as real Victorian children would have been taught in 1886. We were seated on benches with desks that opened up to become cabinets for books (we had similar desks in my school in India). The teacher told us that her name was Miss Perkins. She was dressed in Victorian garb with floor-length skirt, full-sleeved white high-necked blouse, her hair in a tight chignon, a pair of glasses on her nose and a hooked cane in her hand. When she got into character, you could have sworn you were whisked over a hundred years into the past. The cane was used for pointing to the board, to a map on the wall and to beat the desk to gain attention. Rev. Barnardo did not believe in corporal punishment and his teachers were, therefore, forbidden from using the cane on the children (Good for him! A man certainly far ahead of his times!)
During the next hour, Miss Perkins appointed monitors who presented us with slate boards, chalk and a small rag with which to wipe our slates. She taught us to copy the alphabet as it was written on the board with all the fancy Victorian curls and curlicues. She taught us Math (or as they say here ‘Arithmetic’) and she taught us Spelling. We were expected to sit up straight (no slouching) or else we’d be placed in a wooden back brace (which she showed us) for 20 minutes. If we fidgeted too much, the punishment was to place us in finger stocks (and she showed them to us too). Our names would be noted in the Punishment Book. She was strict and stern and did not smile at all. We had to stand to answer her, stand to wish her at the beginning and the end of the lesson. There was honestly very little difference between the protocol in her classroom and the protocol that had prevailed in my convent school in India in the 1970s–which explains why I disliked my school days so much!
What a brilliant experience it was! From the manner in which she went around the class to examine our hands (to make sure they were clean) to the way she addressed us and barked orders out at us, it was a totally amazing afternoon. The Museum is free and doesn’t get too many visitors–but if you are a Victorianist or if you are a child who wishes to regress into the past and find out, first-hand, what it might have been like to be poor and to have had the opportunity to study, this is the place to which you ought to go.
I then spent about 20 minutes more in the museum reading the exhibits carefully with my eyes misty with tears at the misery of those poor children. I learned so much about the poverty of the East End and the fact that so many of the children who studied at Barnardo’s school were then shipped off to Canada where they found work and made new lives for themselves. The school was marked as unsafe for use after the 1940s and was turned into a museum quite recently in order to preserve a Victorian slice of life in a neighborhood that became rapidly gentrified.
I was quite hungry by this time (not having eaten much after coffee and biscuits following Mass), so on my walk along Regent’s Canal on my way back, I pulled out my sandwich, found a shady bench in the park and ate my picnic lunch.

 Off to the Queen Elizabeth Olympics Park:
Since I was only one stop away on the Tube from Stratford where the Olympics were held four years ago and since this is the week of the Olympics in Rio in Brazil, it seemed apropos to get to the Olympics Park that has been named after the current monarch. I took the Central Line Tube for one five-minute stop, got off at Stratford and simply followed the teeming crowds to the Park.
The designers of the space have taken care to see that you part with some money along the way–for the Westfield (East) Shopping Mall joins the train station building and is packed with shops from huge department stores (like Marks and Sparks) and supermarkets (such as Waitrose) to small trendy boutique shops. On a lovely warm summer’s day, the crowds were thicker than flies with folks shopping, eating at the many chain restaurants that have sprouted up (including Danny Meyer’s Shake Shack) or walking towards or out of the Park.
Part of the Olympics Park itself has been turned into an amusement park with a roller coaster, swings, bouncy castles, etc. taking over one part of it. The Acelor Mittal sculpture by the British-Asian sculptor Anish Kapoor dominates the space–it is a contemporary Effiel Tower. It is now possible to take a ride along it on what has come to be known as The Slide. Tickets are available online but I did not see too many people from the spot from where I viewed it. The landscaping is wonderful with one side of the canal paved and the other turned into a green bank. The Aquatics Center is open to the public and people have become members for the use of the pool, the diving boards, etc. I caught a glimpse from the outside as the pool was closed today (much to the annoyance of the members who had come to use it). Buildings are mushrooming all over the area and very soon it will become one of the most upscale parts of the city. You can see the towers of Canary Wharf quite near at hand. It is pretty amazing what this part of London will shape into as the years go by.
I was very pleased that I made it to this area as I had wanted to visit for quite some time but had never gotten down to it. On the way back, I stopped at Waitrose to pick up cheese scones and cream cheese and at M&S for a special dessert that I love (Caramel Pecan Roulade).
I took the Tube back from Stratford, got off one stop later (at Mile End) and then took the 25 bus for just 2 stops to my home. I was inside the door by 6.30 pm. N and C had left and things were very quiet again. I got upstairs to my room and had a nice videochat with Llew and talked to a couple of local friends on the phone before I decided to get some dinner.
Tomorrow I shall get back to the salt mines–there is work to do in the British Library where I shall probably spend most of the day.
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Stereotypical Saturday (Borough Market, Portobello Road), More Art and Company for Supper

Aug6

London

All of London seemed one with me–project-wise–today. The city is simply HEAVING with visitors–everywhere I go, I am being jostled; every sound I hear is on a foreign tongue. The collapse of the pound sterling, post-Brexit, doubtless has something to do with the crowds. Still, I am not complaining. Being alone, most times I still get my front seat on the top deck of red buses!

Travel Planning and Brekkie: 
I am now awaking about 6. 30 am–getting back to routine and defeating jetlag, clearly. It was the perfect time to plan and book my travel to Scotland in September. My invitation to speak at a conference at the University of Edinburgh being confirmed and accommodation being arranged for me in the capital of Scotland, all that was left was booking my transportation there and back.
National Express coach lines have good deals but the one I snagged with much glee was on Megabus. My first time ever traveling with the cheerful fat boy I see plastered on double decker coaches all over the place means that I will be on the red eye from Victoria to Waverly Coach station in Edinburgh for just 3. 50 pounds! How’s that for a steal? I shall be carrying my down pillow and popping in a pill for a whole night’s sleep en route.
From Edinburgh, since it is only 90 minutes away, I shall be riding a National Express coach to Glasgow–for just 48 hours. My only aim is to see the Burrell (Art) Collection at Pollock Park as Llew and I had missed it the last time we were in Glasgow when a Council strike has kept all museums and art galleries closed. Oh, and eating scones at the Willow Tea Room on Sauchihall Street (which remain the best scones I have ever eaten–soft as a cloud, they melt like snow on your tongue).
My journey back to London will be on National Express again–the red eye from Glasgow will see me back into the city. With booking done, all I need to do now is find accommodation for one night in Glasgow. The only annoyance was that Mastercard refused to put my charges through although I had informed them that I’d be traveling for 6 months–I had to call them to confirm intended payments before I was quite done. Would have been well and truly irritating if it were not for the fact that I feel secure about the red flags flying in the faces of some monitors somewhere that keep my account safe. Thanks Mastercard!
It was time for breakfast and I ate a lovely almond croissant and a cup of coffee knowing that I’d soon be eating again–for right after showering, I dressed and left for Borough Market–Saturdays are one of the rare days each week that artisinal food purveyors arrive there with their trucks and their produce to sell their foods through the offering of what the British all ‘samplers’. So I took the 25 Bus to Bank, admired Sir John Soane’s grand Bank of England Building on Threadneedle Street right opposite the London Stock Exchange Building, before I crossed Southwark Bridge on foot and arrived on the South Bank. The Thames looked a ghastly murky brown as it swirled along exposed sand banks. You can have a day at the sea-side on its banks.

Tasting My Way Through Borough Market:
Borough Market on the South Bank has grown enormously since I first went there about 30 years ago. At that time, there were a few stalls and some desultory salesmen and most buyers were from the trade, sourcing fine foods for their hostelries.
Not any more. The secret is obviously out. Everyone who is anyone gets to Borough Market on a Saturday morning and at 11. 30 am, the place was simply jumping. Elbowing my way through the mobs, I passed by stalls selling food–the more exotic, the better. I saw vast trays of curries from Ethiopia and Malaysia before I got to the salesmen with the small farm-produced foods. By the time a half hour had passed, I had tasted fruit butters, jams, marmalades, blasamic vinegars with fig and olive oils with truffle flavors, candied cashew nuts and candied peanuts, Greek bakhlava, pistachio Turkish delight, home-made granola (mine is infinitely better–even if I say so myself!), a multitude of cheeses, lots of charcuterie, brownies and cookies and even a salted caramel pie. It was like having lunch on my feet. Feeling fairly stuffed, I walked towards Southward Cathedral (the church with the stained glass window dedicated to the characters of the Bard’s plays since he often worshiped there), paid a visit in there and left via London Bridge. I hopped on to a 17 bus that sailed along (top deck, front and center, of course) and hopped off at Holborn Circus.

Off to Portobello Road for some Antiquing:
My aim was to get on the Central Line Tube to Notting Hill to browse for antiques and kitsch at the Saturday Antiques Market. The Tube took me there in 12 minutes, I followed the crowds down Pembroke Gardens that lead to Portobello Road, browsed in my favorite vintage jewelry shop there before I found the street vendors.
And once again I was struck by the differences–then and now. Thirty years ago, there was a very good chance you would get treasures on this street for most of the dealers were genuine: when they were not selling to the trade at Bermondsey Antiques Market at dawn, they set up their stalls at Portobello Road. I will never forget the delight with which I spied my Japanese umbrella stand–a fabulous Imari find–and the manner in which I carried it across the Atlantic where it still graces my front vestibule.
Not any more. Today’s stalls carry all manner of reproductions: silver plated tea sets, mismatched silverware, bone china mugs and plates, kitschy London souvenirs (magnets, pub signs). Plus there are flea market wares: leather bags from Florence, tweeds from Scotland, jewelery from Tibet–that sort of thing. I reached out for a small toast rack and she wanted 12 pounds for it. I had bought one from a tag sale in Connecticut for 25 cents! It is simply amazing how things have changed. As for the crowds, they were here too–by the thousand. Clearly not really interested in antiquing at all–just doing what their guide books tell them to do on a sunny Saturday in London.

Finding the Book Shop from the film Notting Hill:
Before leaving Portobello Road this time, I decided to make a concerted effort to find the book shop that was a integral of the film Notting Hill, starring Hugh Grnat (who owned the book shop) and Julia Roberts. Rumor had it that the shop was closed, that it was a private residence, etc. etc. I asked around and a vendor knew exactly where to send me: Blenheim Crescent (towards the end of the Portobello Antiques stalls). Make a left and in the middle of that block is the book shop. It is still a book shop, not a private residence, but it is not a travel book shop any more: it is a general book shop simply called The Notting Hill Book Shop–ah, banking on tourist traffic from the film no doubt. Inside I found one small indication of its film connections: it shows a card with the film’s poster in black and white on it. I took pictures intending to tweet them to the film’s director Richard Curtis and his wife Emma Freud–who recently became friends of mine. As soon as I have a free minute, I will…
Sorely disappointed about the general lack of sophistication about today’s ‘antiquers’, I entered a bus going towards Oxford Circus with the idea of taking the Bakerloo Line to Charing Cross to the National Gallery so that I could finish up seeing the items in the 19th century Wing that are on the audio guide. The bus offered a tour of Paddington–so I took in the sights: the 19th century railway station, the 19th century St. Mary’s Hospital from where Alexander Fleming gave the world penicillin. Finally, we got to Trafalgar Square bathed in sunshine and crawling, simply crawling, with crowds.  There is simply no escaping them in London right now.

Back at the National Gallery:
I escaped gratefully into the National Gallery, procured my audio guide and stool and was off in the main galleries (also mobbed) to see some of its main highlights–the Gainsboroughs and Canalettos, Turners and Constables, the Van Goghs and Cezannes. I have to admit, somewhat guiltily, that I sat down on  a sofa to contemplate George Stubb’s Whistlejacket–the magnificent portrait of a horse–when I actually dozed off and had a ten minute nap! Clearly, erratic sleep patterns are getting the better of me…but then if one has to snooze off, I cannot think of anything better than a brown leather Chesterfield sofa in a great museum on which to catch a few zzzs!
When I was done at almost 6 pm, I treated myself to a slice of Coffee Walnut Cake in the cafe and was off on the Tube back home. Mission Accomplished. If and when I get back to the National again, it will be to look at paintings of my own choosing. The audio guide, by the way, is wonderful and it is a treat to be educated by some of the museum’s best curators.

 Dinner Chez Moi:
Back home, I caught up with email, put my feet up for a bit and then readied myself for dinner. My landlords N and C are expected tonight between 8 and 9 pm and when I suggested we have supper together–they gladly agreed. Which meant that I had to cook it, of course! I had planned to make Mary Berry’s Malay Chicken Rice–very simple and very delicious it sounded too. So off I went, improvising with her basic recipe when I discovered that the rice I had in the house was arborio (and not Jasmine or Basmati). Oh well…what happened, therefore, was that the Rice became a risotto. The dish was tasty–a fine Italian-Indian fusion (as my chicken had been marinated in yogurt and spices) and it was far more edible that you would imagine. With a salad of lettuce, pears, blue cheese, onion, cranberries and nuts with a balsamic dressing, it turned out to be a good meal. Toast crostini with mushroom pate had been my starter and Sainsbury’s marvelous tiramisu was my dessert. What a fine meal indeed! And who says I cannot whip up a meal in a jiffy with ingredients on hand in a pantry or frig???
We had a very nice evening and then it was time to say Goodnight as we called it a day. I watched a bit of a Swedish detective show on BBC I-player called Beck, but fell asleep watching it–so what’s new? At about midnight, I switched off the night…
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Buzzing Around Bloomsbury and Soaking in Art at the National Gallery

Aug5

London

I had the nicest day! It was the sort of day on which the weather dictates what you will do. And although I had decided to spend the entire day in one of my favorite places in London–The National Gallery at Trafalgar Square–when I found the sun smiling down on me in all its glory, there was simply no way I could deny the urge to get out there and enjoy it.

At Work at Dawn:
But first things first. I actually awoke at 6.00 am today, but decided against going to church as I needed to do some urgent research for the trip that Chriselle and I intend to take soon in Eastern Europe. Having picked up books yesterday on Croatia and Slovenia, I got cracking on planning and plotting while most of London was still asleep. And before I knew it, it was 8. 30 and I had the basic outline of a trip that we can flesh out in due course. With flights identified on budget airlines, all I had to do was run them by her, get the green light and I could go ahead with bookings.
It was time to shower and eat breakfast (muesli with yoghurt and coffee). The sunshine beckoned and I carried my tray out to the garden and sat on a bench overlooked by a fat black bird with a vivid yellow beak (that I could not identify) and munched contentedly as I enjoyed the warmth of the sun’s rays on my shoulders. Then I made a sandwich for myself and raced out of the house. At that point I made my decision: I would spend the morning completing my walk in Bloomsbury (that I had started yesterday), get to NYU campus to pick up my water bottle that I had left behind yesterday and then get to the National Gallery where I would spend the afternoon. The National has late evening closing on Fridays–at 9.00 pm–so it makes sound sense to spend Friday afternoons and evenings in that hallowed space.

Buzzing Around Bloomsbury:
I took the Central Line train to Holborn and began my rambles there. At Sicilian Avenue, I turned to Southampton Place where I found the home of Cardinal Newman. Just across, past The Cordon Bleu School of Culinary Art at Bloomsbury Square, was the home of Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli’s father, Issac–and right opposite it was the home occupied by Gertrude Stein for a year before she moved to Paris and became a legend. Along Bedford Square I went toward Russel Square (which was the site yesterday of the deadly knifing of 7 people including an American female professor). There I spied the sculpture of Francis, Duke of Bedford, who was responsible for laying out the area in the Georgian Age in the way it currently stands. In fact, in this part of London, the Bedford family are still the largest property owners though much of their land is used today by hospitals and universities.
I paused by Senate House which was spared by Hitler during the blitz as he had intended to make the building his London HQ when he had conquered it–thankfully, that did not happen! Still, the building was also the model for Orwell’s Ministry of Truth in his novel 1984. It is a rather plain building, stretching one tier upon the other like a gigantic wedding cake (funnily enough, we have a very similar building near the NYU campus in New York–right opposite the Washington Arch at Washington Square!) Just a few feet away is the Faber Building (now used by SOAS–The School of Oriental and African Studies–of the University of London, where I will be giving a lecture later in the semester). It once housed the offices of the famous publishing firm of Faber and Faber where the poet T.S.Eliot (who used to live nearby) once used to work. My guide book says that in addition to being a fine poet, he was also an astute businessman and a great part of his early working life was spent working in banks and in publishing.
I crossed the square then towards the Russel Hotel (one of my favorite buildings in London) only to discover that it was completely shrouded in scaffolding as it is undergoing a major refurbishment. More’s the pity as the building is truly a stunner with its brick red color and lavish carving. From that point, I was directed to Queen’s Square at the back–which was the first time I had been there and from there to Queen’s Tavern and then on to the Church of St. George the Martyr that is known as the Sweep’s Church as  Capt. James South established a charity here for the little boys who served in this capacity–often meeting a premature death. Right opposite the church is a Victorian water pump which cannot be used for drinking water any longer.

Lunch courtesy of the Hare Krishna Movement:
By the time I returned to Russel Square, I found a  queue of people had lined up for free lunch distributed by the devotees of the Hare Krishna Movement. It was a simple rice and chick pea curry and since I am always up for a new experience, I joined the line and partook of the lunch. Then it was time to get a latte from Waitrose before returning to NYU to pick up my bottle. There, I checked email on wifi, used facilities, had a long videochat with my brother and his kids and then made my way to the National Gallery on the 29 bus from outside our campus that took me straight to Trafalgar Square. It had been a fabulous jaunt on a day when the temperature was perfect and humidity non-existent. I was very glad indeed that I had enjoyed it while it lasted.

Exploring the National Gallery–All Over Again!
I can never tire of the National Gallery–it is quite simply a place in which I feel transformed in the presence of some of the greatest paintings produced by the Western world. I arrived at exactly 4.00 pm, got myself a map,a stool and an audio guide and began my study of the highlights that are beautifully spelled out in the black and white leaflet that goes with the guide. In the process, I took pictures of most of the masterpieces on display plus my own favorite ones. In particular, I was drawn to the paintings that were featured in the film, Framed, that I recently watched with my niece and nephew. They were the usual highlights that we see whenever one names the National Gallery–and then some.
I had the most wonderful time for four whole hours during which time I took in about 60 masterpieces. Occasionally I diverted from the museum’s suggestions to see those canvasses that I especially adore–as in the case of the work of Carlo Crivelli that I have only seen in this collection. He is an awesome artist with the most awesome attention to detail and I can stare at his paintings forever and still find something new in each one to mesmerize me. I stopped for a sandwich halfway through and then I was at it again–I simply could not get enough of the brilliant paintings surrounding me. And, of course, the audio guide meant that although I have seen these works so many times before, I still learned something new at each stop. It was just sheer undiluted bliss!

Return Home for Dinner:
At exactly 8.00 pm, I left the Gallery having left just one section–the 19th century–uncovered. Hopefully, I shall get there tomorrow and be able to complete my mission! I took the Tube back from Charing Cross to my place and got home in 20 minutes. A quick stop at the Co-op supermarket to pick up some groceries for dinner tomorrow and I was all set.
Back home, I noticed that the weekly cleaner had been for the place was sparkling and well tidied. I got dinner organized (sausages with cauliflower mash and a mango for dessert) before I went online to make the Easyjet bookings as I did get the green light from Chriselle during the day. That done, I spent a while chatting on Facetime with Llew before I began to blog even as I watched the opening ceremony of the Rio Olympics which are at 12 midnight, my time.
It was just one more wonderful day in this wonderful city. Having spent one week here already, I have to ask myself where the time has gone. But then I think of all the things I have done in just one week and I realize that I have utilized every second creatively and could not possibly have asked for a more brilliant week. Last week at this time I was flying across the Atlantic to get here–and already I feel as if I have been here forever.
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Gray’s Inn, The Wellcome Collection, Research at the British Library, A Walk in Bloomsbury

Aug4

London

Today was a mixed bag with a little bit of this and a little bit of that. I did not rise early enough to get to St. Paul’s Cathedral for Mass. Instead I was able to IMO (videochat) with Chriselle–which was very productive indeed.

Coffee Morning with a Pair of Solicitors at Gray’s Inn:
Brekkie done (muesli and yogurt with coffee), I showered and dressed and took the bus and the Tube (Central Line) to Chancery Lane–my former stomping ground. Since I was passing right by my old building, it would seem horribly unfriendly not to stop and say Hello to my former concierge, Arben, who, as always, gave me the warmest welcome. We exchanged pleasantries for a while and then I slipped into one of London’s Inns of Court–Gray’s Inn–which used to be in my own backyard when I lived on High Holborn. Although I have been to Gray’s Inn before, it was especially significant this time round as I have read The Children Act by Ian McEwan which is set in this neighborhood–his female protagonist actually shares a flat with her husband in one of Gray’s Inn’s courtyards. For that reason, it was thrilling to walk those paths.
My objective was to get to one of the lawyer’s offices (called ‘Chambers’ in the UK) to meet my friend Jane who lives in Yorkshire but comes down to London occasionally for a ballet performance. This time round, she was in London to see the Bolshoi Ballet do The Taming of the Shrew. Before she departed for Yorkshire, she was able to fit in a coffee with me. And since we have a mutual friend in my former neighbor Barbara, she was there too–so it was a thoroughly wonderful morning over coffee with two brilliant patent attorneys whose company was wonderfully enjoyable as we touched on a lot of interesting topics from Indian cuisine up north to Jane’s South Asian connections. All too soon, it was time to say goodbye, but I know I will cherish very happy memories of our get-together.
Just before we went our separate ways, Barbara gave me a little tour of Gray’s Inn. I absolutely adore the architecture of these Inns of Court and the old-fashioned world they conjure in my mind.
Then I hurried off to the British Library…but from there things went really wrong.

Making Bad Transport Decisions:
Despite the fact that London has such a fabulous public transport system that I credit myself with knowing really well, sometimes I make bad decisions. Like I decided to take a bus to King’s Cross from Theobald’s Road, but then I remembered that I hadn’t called my Dad. So I sat at a bus stop and spent about 15 minutes chatting to him. When I did get to the bus-stop, I saw that it was 12. 15 pm. I decided, on impulse, to get to Trafalgar Square to the Church of St. Martin-in-The-Fields to listen to their free lunch time concert. I know, I know…it was foolish to get north to go south! But that’s what I meant by not thinking right.  Anyway, I got to King’s Cross and decided to take the Northern Line southwards–but the Northern Line is one of the most complicated of lines and after a series of errors, I found that it was much too late to make the 1.00 pm concert–so I scrapped it (also on impulse) and decided to go to a concert at the church on another day. Like tomorrow…

Exploring the Wellcome Collection:
Instead, finding myself at Euston Station by this point, I hopped into an M&S Simply Food to buy myself a sandwich (as I had left my ham and cheese sandwich on my kitchen counter at home in my hurry to leave!) and sat at a bench in a square munching it with a large bunch of office-goers who were enjoying the lovely mild afternoon. When I was done with lunch, I found that I was right opposite the Museum that is known as the Wellcome Collection and since I had never been in there, well…inside I went.
Named after Henry Wellcome (he of Burroughs-Wellcome fame), a 19th century intellectual who wore many hats in his lifetime, the museum features rather eclectic items from his personal collection all of which have to do with the human body and its various functions. I was surprised at how lovely the interior is and how crowded it was. Considering that it is one of London’s lesser-known museums, it is very well used indeed. The Cafe on the ground floor was buzzing, but upstairs is a quieter and much more posh space where I found that you can get the best bargain in Afternoon Teas–three courses with scones, sandwiches and cakes costs a lean 9 pounds per person or 16 pounds for two. That is truly a steal in this pricey city. Perhaps Chriselle and I can do it together when she gets here…
Inside, there are temporary exhibitions and bits that comprise a permanent collection. I stuck to the permanent portion entitled Medicine Man–which was a section devoted exclusively to Wellcome’s personal collection. It had some really quirky and really cool items and among its highlights (although they do not have a leaflet that names these), I would pick the following:
1. A lock of hair of King George III.
2. Napolean’s toothbrush
3. Charles Darwin’s ivory walking sticks (there are two of them)
4. Florence Nightingale’s moccasins
5. Lord Nelson’s razor
6. A shrunken head  of the Shuar people (I had seen some of these at the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford)
7. A pair of shoes for bound Chinese feet (I was horrified at how tiny they were!)
8. A snuff box attached to a real stuffed ram’s head complete with magnificent horns
9. A French guillotine
10.A mummified male body of a Peruvian Chimu person
11. The wax death mask of Benjamin Disraeli.

So there you have it. There is a grand collection of paintings all of which depict medicine and surgery through the ages, there is a replica of Freud’s couch, there is an X-ray machine from the 1920s, all sorts of items associated with mankind’s sexual life and behavior including chastity belts, there is a whole exhibition on forceps and surgical saws that made me weak-kneed…you name it, this museum has it. There is also a section called Medicine Now which I found far less interesting as it dealt with things like gastric bypass operations etc.
About an hour and a half later, I was out and about again, having covered one more item on my To-Do List (yes, as usual, I do have one or else I will get nothing done!).

By Bus to the British Library:
It was then time to get back to my original plan–which had been to get to the British Library. Jumping into a bus at Euston Terminus, I rode it for one stop to the Library and in ten minutes, I was in the South Asian Section looking for assistance as I tried to call for the items I needed. I had about 10 items on my list–journals, books and public office records of the former India Office in London. A very nice man assisted me and showed me the ropes and before I knew it, I had requested about 8 items from the list. Some of them would be with me in 70 minutes, others would take 2 days as they would be arriving from their stacks at Boston Spa which is in Yorkshire.
Having spent more than an hour searching through the online catalogue and making my requests, I decided it would be best to come back on Monday and spend the entire day in the library as most of the material I have requested should be in by then. So on that satisfied note, I left the library and went on to the next item on my agenda–a visit to my NYU-London campus.

A Visit to NYU-London:
It was high time I went to the NYU-London campus to meet my former colleagues among the staff. Since it is summer and classes are not yet in session, it is rather quiet–which makes it possible to really get work done. At the front door, I met the porters, Mohammed and Mark, who are buddies of mine as I have met them off and on over the years. I also met those folks who are still friends of mine after all these years–Ruth and Nigel–and new ones who will now work closely with me–Phillipa and Harvey. After a nice chat with Ruth who then introduced me to a few other new staff members, I left my things with the porters and set out for a walk in Bloomsbury as I thought it would be good to trek through another one of my former stomping grounds.
Using Frommer’s book, Memorable Walks in London (of which there are 11 that I intend to finish before I depart from London), I began at Bedford Square which is the only true Georgian square left in London.  I saw the blue plaques marking the homes of Raja Ram Mohan Roy and Anthony Hope Hawkins who wrote The Prisoner of Zenda and then I entered Gower Street to see plaques to Ottoline Morel, patroness of W.B. Yeats, a suffragette Millicent Gareth Fawcett, the place the first general anaesthesia was administered, etc. The walk carried on to Waterstone’s, the bookstore, and on to Torrington Street, home of the poet Christina Rosetti, sister of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. It then took us to the best mid-Victorian church in London at Gordon Square. The square attained fame, thanks to the members of the Bloomsbury Group who granted it notoriety. Here, from 1904-7, the sisters Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell–held ‘at homes’ every Thursday to which their brothers Thoby and Adrian’s friends were invited. These included the biographer-novelist Lytton Strachey (who lived two doors down), the economist John Maynard Keynes whose work helped found the International Monetary Fund (who also lived two doors down on the other side), playwright George Bernard Shaw, philisopher Bertrand Russel, novelist E.M. Forster, artists Clive Bell and Duncan Grant, publisher Leonard Woolf, etc. etc. I have been fascinated by the members of the Bloomsbury Group since my undergrad days and had visited this square before; but after reading Priya Parmar’s book Life in Squares (which was the best book I read in 2014), I was absolutely thrilled to be in this revered venue and to visit each of the homes–now all turned into offices. I would heartily recommend this book to anyone interested in the tangled relationships–straight, biseuxal and homosexual–of these individuals whose activities provoked  a sneering comment from Gertrude Stein who was holding her own literary and artistic soirees in Paris at the same time:” It is a Young Man’s Christian Association with the only thing missing being the Christian part!”
Just next door was supposedly the Percival David Collection of Chinese Ceramics, but these have moved to the British Museum and it is there that I intend to puruse them another time (in Gallery 94).
It was 6. 15 pm by then and so I returned to pick up my bag from NYU from where I took the No. 8 bus just outside campus to my home at Bethnal Green.

An Unexpected Brush with Art:
Except that when I got off at Bethnal Green Tube station, I noticed that the door to the Church of St. John was open and since it is a church designed by Sir John Soane and was on my To-Do List, I headed inside for a visit. At the door of the church, I noticed a bunch of young folks with wine and beer in hand. When I entered the church, I found the pastor, Rev. Allan Green at a bar selling the drinks! Well, it turned out that there was an art opening on the top floor–an installation by Miriam Sedacca–and in the crypt was another exhibition of astronomy as art. I bought a beer, chatted with two lovely artists for about twenty minutes, paid a visit to the altar to admire the work of Soane who only designed three churches in London, and then hopped into a bus and, two stops later, I was home.

Dinner and Travel Research:
Over dinner (toasted ham and cheese sandwich with salad and chicken cup of soup), I caught up with my email and my blog and began the travel research for my proposed trip to Eastern Europe in September with Chriselle.
Like I said, it was a mixed bag…the kind of day that offered so much of interest: reunions with fond friends and former colleagues, museum finds, social chatter over contemporary art, solid library work related to my research and a quiet dinner at home. I could not wish to have had a less eventful day.
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

A Royal Visit (to Clarence House) and a Musical at the West End (‘The Go-Between’)

Aug3

London

It seems I am slowly defeating jetlag–I awoke at 7.30 this morning after a very restful night. Not early enough to go to 8.00 am Mass, but hopefully, my wake-up time will stabilize soon. I used the time to catch up on email and chalk out my day. Having worked really hard in the library yesterday, I felt entitled to a bit of play today–and with the sun peeping through my blinds, it was the perfect day to get out and about.

 Buying a Day Ticket for The Go-Between:
Brekkie done (muesli with yogurt and coffee–I could eat this for every meal, every day of my life!), I showered double quick and was out the door at 10. 15 am. I was at the Apollo Theater by 10. 45 in time to pick up the last single seat available for the matinee show at 2.30.  The ticket cost me 25 pounds for what would otherwise have been a 75 pounds buy–so a real bargain. My seat was in the third row–so I was certain I would catch every word and every expression. Armed with my booty, I hopped into the Tube again and took the Piccadilly and then the Bakerloo lines to St. James’ Park to cover the next item on my agenda–and it was going to be a royal visit!

Visiting Clarence House:
My friend Ian (a faithful reader of this blog) always wonders why it is that I have visited London a gazillion times and still find new things to do on very visit. Well, I think it has to do with the fact that I visit the city at varying times during the year (when the seasonal calendar of Things To Do changes) and because the city is always showing itself off in new guises to entice visitors. When I heard that Clarence House is only open to the public during the month of August, it was a no-brainer. I had to get there before it was no longer possible.
It was a brisk and gorgeous trek to the House past Birdcage Walk, St. James’ Park and The Mall on a truly glorious day. The park was filled with wild life–pigeons, squirrels, dogs (being walked by their owners) and bunches of tourists twittering incessantly with excitement at being in one of the world’s most exciting cities. I shared their joy fully as I hurried along past flower beds bursting with color and plane and chestnut trees that spread their branches hospitably.
At the Visitors Entrance on The Mall, I was directed to the Ticket booth. In the distance, I could hear the booming of drums–clearly the Changing of the Guard was on at nearby Buck House (aka Buckingham Palace), London’s Number One Tourist Attraction. But I was not to be distracted from my mission. After obtaining a ticket for the 12. 15 tour, I was left to my own resources for 25 minutes.

A Guided Tour of Clarence House:
Fifteen minutes before my tour, I joined a group of folks assembled at the entrance. The atmosphere was very relaxed and very low-key. There were almost entirely British female tourists in these groups–I was the only foreigner in my group and there were 2 other men joining us. Everywhere I go, I am struck by the number of British tourists I see. It is as if the British have suddenly discovered that they have a world-class tourist attraction in their own backyards and need no longer get to Corfu or Croatia.
The quick introduction was made by our guide, an Indian (or what the British call a ‘British-Asian’). She was smart and articulate and very competent and from the get-go, the tour was informative, interesting and entertaining. A quick history of the house was recounted and here is what I remember: The architect was John Nash (the same chap who designed and built Regent’s Circus and the Brighton Pavilion and most of the city of Bath). It was meant to be a residence for William IV (then Duke of Clarence–hence its name)  who found Buckingham Palace much too imposing for his taste. Subsequent monarchs have added to the house until Edward VII joined it to the brick Tudor facade of St. James’ Palace which is next door.
It was used at the primary residence of Queen Elizabeth (nee Bowes-Lyon), the Queen Mother, from the time of the death of her husband and the accession of her daughter, Queen Elizabeth II to the throne to the time of her death. By the time she passed away, long after reaching a century, she had spent over 40 years of her life in this home.  Thus, although it is the primary residence today of Charles, Prince of Wales and his wife, Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, and has been his home since they were wed, the spirit and the presence of the Queen Mother pervades every room as well as the garden.
We walked through the lovely garden where two infant trees were pointed out to us: both magnolias, one planted by the Dalai Lama and the other by Daw Aung Sang Su Ki of Burma. We stopped at the lovely Elizabethan Knot Garden planted by Charles in honor of his Grandmother (whom he adored). It is filled with roses and lavender and has a small bust of her.
Once we went past the entrance, we followed the exact same route used by all visitors to the house. We were first led into a parlor which is also known as the Lancashire Room. This contains a lovely Italian marble carved mantelpiece from Sienna that was purchased with money raised to provide a wedding gift for the present queen and her husband Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh. Prior to her coronation, while her father, King George VI, was still living, then Princess Elizabeth used this room as a family room for herself, her husband and her two first born children–Charles and Anne. The tour continued through the living room (which has two built-in cases filled with the Chelsea china that the Queen Mother collected filled with botanicals), past the library and into the dining room.  Every one of these rooms had been decorated by the Queen Mother with items from her past, her family history and her taste.  It seems that Prince Charles has been loathe to move anything around. It is nice to see modern-day pictures of the current Queen taken with members of her family seated on the furniture that is in the rooms today–such as the lovely acquamarine Chippendale Set in the living room where she posed with her son, her grandson William and her great grand son George. Lovely!
We moved on to the Library which also served as a tea room and where the Queen Mother often took tea with horse lovers like herself such as the author Dick Francis and the playwright Noel Coward. And then we arrived at the Dining Room which is set with a beautiful Minton china service and has a striking portrait on the wall of the Queen Mother by her favorite portraitist Augustus John who, after winning the commission, became so nerve-wracked that he could not look at the face of his subject! A rather tricky situation to be in if your portrait is being painted! The poor Queen Mother took his reticence in her stride but the work remained unfinished and rolled up for 40 years until someone unearthed it and presented it to her. She remembered the artist’s shyness and decided to put it up anyway, although unfinished. Hence, she has one ear-ring longer than the other and the roses she carries in her lap lack stems! Still, it is a very pretty portrait and I am glad they have it up. Apparently Augustus John was deeply gratified to hear that his controversial portrait will forever grace the walls of Clarence House.
We moved across the Entrance Hall to the other side of the house through a passage that was filled with portraits of horses and trophies won by the Queen Mother’s many studs. Like her daughter, she too was passionate about horses and horse-racing and was a keen rider herself.
The tour finished in the Morning Room which is the one that is most closely associated with Charles and Camilla and which they use as a family room themselves. It has an Oriental theme that derives from the presence of a vast tapestry on one wall that depicts the Siege of Mohammed Ali in loving detail. This Victorian work also lay rolled up and forgotten for more than a century when it was found and placed on the wall as Charles has a particular fondness for it. This room is striking for the family pictures on the piano (that was played by Elton John among other musicians) and which is covered with carefully selected family portraits representing both Charles and Camilla’s children and grandchildren. There is a particularly lovely one of Charles with his grandson George–having tea with him in the garden. It is a completely natural picture that captures a very tender moment of the bridging of generations. There is also an escritoire in Chinoiserie red lacquer that was a present to Charles from his grandmother. He adores it and has given it pride of place in the room. The room overlooks the Knot Garden and the bust outside–so once again the very special affinity between Charles and his grandmother is made very clear.
It was a good time to browse through the Gift Shop–a very small and modest affair but it had some unique items not to be found in the other palace gift shops (such as reproduction china of the Chelsea pattern that the late Queen Mother collected, available in place settings and on aprons and the ubiquitous tea towels).
I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to Clarence House. It is the home in which the young princes William and Harry spent many of their childhood years and it is the home from which William left for Westminster Abbey on the day of his wedding (the gates through which he left were also pointed out to us). It is a very personal home and is carries reminiscences of many of its residents through the decades. There is much evidence of the destruction carried out in London during the blitz–Clarence House was also affected and some parts of it rebuilt. Upstairs, of course, are the more personal parts of the home–the bedrooms and bathrooms. But we were only permitted entry to the ground floor. Since the home’s residents are usually in Balmoral Castle in Scotland during the month of August, it is a good time to open out this home to the public. At the rate of 20 visitors going in every 15 minutes and paying 10 pounds each, the total made each hour is 800 pounds. Multiply that number by 30 for every day in August and you will see that no small sum is raised by the act of opening the doors of the house to the public to traipse in for 45 minutes and be dazzled by the weight of British history and the weight of the awesome bric-a-brac contained inside.
Would I recommend a visit? You bet your last bob, I would!

Lunch in St. James’ Park:
It was a day made for loitering–and what better place than a park? Grabbing one of the striped green and white deck chairs and facing Big Ben that peeped shyly at me between two trees, I pulled out my cheese and pickle sandwich and began munching my home made lunch. It was so delicious in the perfect air of a London summer’s day. In the ponds, mallard life stirred. On the lawns, children cartwheeled, tourists posed for pictures, dogs scampered behind their masters and mistresses. It was an ideal afternoon to people-watch and I did just that before it was time to move on for my 2. 30 matinee show. Taking the Tube and reversing my journey, I arrived at Piccadilly Square with 30 minutes to spare before the curtain went up.
Remembering that Nespresso had a show room on Regent’s Street with a very generous Tasting Area, I went in there hoping to have enough time for a decaff coffee. And how good was my Lungo Decaffinato! Fortified with my treat, I hurried down Shaftesbury Avenue to the Apollo and eagerly took my sear.

A Musical Treat at the West End–The Go-Between:
One of my great passions is the theater and London allows me to indulge it to the fullest.  Not only are there a glut of quality offerings, but the talent is outstanding, the theaters themselves have spectacular interiors and the tickets are so much cheaper than those on Broadway. This afternoon I would be seeing the one and only Michael Crawford in the flesh. I could not wait. Ever since I had heard his recordings of the soundtrack of Andrew Lloyd-Weber’s Phantom of the Opera, I have been hooked. But even prior to that, while still living in India, I had watched him play the fool (and I mean literally) in a TV program called Some Mother Do Have ’em. Google it to watch clips of this stomach-achingly funny sitcom that always reminds me of my mother as we used to sit and watch it together and roll with laughter back in the 1970s. Anyway, Michael Crawford is multi-talented–he has acting chops and an incredible voice.
In The Go-Between, he is an old man, Leon Causton, who looks back on a summer he spent with the aristocratic Maudsleys in the early Edwardian period, on their country estate. Acting as the Go-Between, the postman, who carried surreptitious notes between the young lady of the house, Marion, and the grounds-keeper Ted, when he was but 13 years old, he unwittingly facilitated a relationship that was forbidden by the rigid class barriers of the time. Told as a flashback, the audience is treated to the dual presence of Leo on the stage–as a pre-teenager and as an old man (played by Crawford). Wonderful acting by both Leos made for a compelling production. The atonal music was the least enjoyable part of the musical in my opinion (helped along by a single pianist who was rather good). The lady seated besides me (who was also alone) told me that it is also a good film and that it was based on the first book her husband ever presented her. I loved it and I would recommend it heartily to anyone who is a fan of Crawford and a fan of the West End musical.

A Stroll Along Piccadilly:
It was still very bright when I emerged from the theater at 5. 30 pm and while I was still full of beans, I decided to stroll along one of my favorite streets in London–Piccadilly. Once there, I wandered into Waterstone’s, the great big book shop that I love, mainly to use the wifi and get my messages. Once that was done, I wandered further afield to Fortnum and Mason which is always a treat for the eye as much as it for the tongue. Nothing was on sale–so I did not buy, but I did enjoy a nibble or two of some of their samplers. It is only when I am in places like this–some of my favorite venues in London–that I feel fully as if I am in the city of my fondest desires.

Dinner At Home:
It was only 8.00 pm when I got home on the bus and the Tube from Piccadilly Circus–well in time to make a few calls to relatives and friends in Kent and London. I rustled up dinner from the goodies in my fridge–my sausages and cauliflower mash with lettuce and avocado salad–and while I munched, I watched Beck, a Swedish detective show, on BBC’s I-player.  Then it was time to do a bit of blogging and reading and call it a night.
I had such a fabulous day. Truly each day brings me a bit of a surprise in terms of how it will turn out. I absolutely revel in the joy of letting the day do with me what it will and going with the flow.
How grateful I am for this opportunity!
Until tomorrow, cheerio!

Research at Queen Mary College Library and in Theaterland

Aug2

London

Resuming Daily Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral:    
Seems I am quickly getting over jetlag for I fell asleep at 12.15 and slept almost right through to 6.45 am. There was enough time for me to get ready and leave for 8.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral. If you get the right bus-Tube connections, I realize I can get there in under 20 minutes. And that was where I found myself in good time for the start of the service by the Rev. James Mille. As always, it is a great thrill to walk through the great pillared portals of Christopher Wren’s Neo-Classical masterpiece and to make my way to one of the side chapels. I chatted with Rev. James when Mass was done and took myself out again into a grey and drizzly morning. As always, I missed my friends Michael and Cynthia with whom I have often attended daily Mass at St. Paul’s. Back home in Connecticut too, I am a daily Mass goer but there is no way the quiet little church I attend can compare with the magnificence of this edifice and it never fails to evoke in me an even deeper feeling of devotion.

Research at Queen Mary College Library:
After having made inquiries yesterday about obtaining a Visitor’s Card for Queen Mary College (QMC) Library, I figured that on a rainy day a library would be the best place to spend time. I decided to start research for my paper on Indentured Labor from the Indian Sub-Continent which I will present at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland at the beginning of next month. So, after breakfasting on Sainsbury’s Fruit and Nut muesli in yoghurt and a decaff coffee, I showered and shampooed my hair and set out for a morning of research.
QMC, part of the University of London, is only two stops away on a bus down Mile End Road or a 15 minute walk. I took the bus and soon found myself presented with a Day Card at the Main Reception area (until a permanent Visitors Card with my picture on it is made available to me). In no time at all, I was on the second floor at the stacks seeking out the books I wanted. It was about 11.00 am when I arrived there and it was exactly 3.00 pm when I wound up–having made about 22 pages of notes! Certainly a morning very productively spent and such a great way to have beaten the rain.

Home for Lunch:
By the time I got back home, it was 3. 15 and I was starving. I rustled up a grilled cheese and ham sandwich which I ate with something called ‘pickle’ (Cheese and Pickle sandwiches are very popular in the UK). Except the ‘pickle’ is not the kind we eat in India (hot and spicy and highly salted) nor is it the kind of pickle we eat in America (cucumbers in brine). It is something known as Branston Pickle–and I was introduced to it for the first time. It is more like a chutney with some chunky, crunchy bits in it (I am not sure if these are onions or mango!) Very likely this was an Indian chutney recipe pinched by some ambitious colonial named Branston who marketed it to his compatriots as a ‘pickle’ with much success. Anyway, the combination of chutney and cheddar was superb and I can see why ‘cheese and pickle’ sandwiches are such a hit here. I also ate a bit of salad and, because I could not resist it, a thin slice of tiramisu. It made a very delicious lunch indeed and yet required minimal cooking.

 Off to Theaterland:
Since I am not comfortable at the thought of coming home alone late at night, my friend Cynthia gave me the idea of getting to the theater for the matinee shows–a brilliant idea, methinks! And since Matinee shows are only on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I think I will try to see a matinee show each Wednesday by obtaining ‘Day Tickets’ which are sold at 10.00 am on the day you wish to go (provided tickets are still available, they sell no more than 2 per person in the queue).
My aim was to find out if Day Tickets would be available tomorrow morning for The Go-Between at the Apollo Theater–a musical that stars Michael Crawford (whose voice I love) and who is a very well-reputed actor (he played the Phantom in the original London version of the play The Phantom of the Opera!) Well, yes, tickets were available for tomorrow and I was advised to get there at 10.00 am but with no need to rush.
That done, I wandered around the heart of the theater district around Shaftesbury Avenue and Cambridge Circus to make my way to the Palace Theater where there is a great deal of hoopla with the staging of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child which opened yesterday. I understand that all tickets have gone until December and that there are none to be had at the Box Office–a fact that was confirmed by the Box Office clerk when I arrived there. I took a picture outside the theater as that is probably the closest I will come to seeing the play!
A little later, I arrived at the Garrick Theater as I found out that another one of my favorite actors is soon going to be on the stage there. As Chriselle will be here in September-October, I decided to book tickets for us for the show–but I would like it to remain a surprise–so I am not saying which show or who the actor is; but I feel certain that she will be pleased. With the tickets and receipt in my bag, I walked off and made my way to the Strand to find out if Day Tickets were available at the Vaudeville Theater where another favorite actor of mine is currently to be found–Martin Shaw is in Hobson’s Choice. I loved him in every TV show in which he stars (not the least being as Detective Inspector George Gently which is still running). In addition, Christopher Timothy also has a role in the play–he played James Herriott in the TV series All Creatures Great and Small. It was confirmed that Day Tickets are available; so, I shall probably come back next Wednesday for the matinee. It seems as if I have a wealth of quality theater from which to choose–I will need to plan judiciously and make certain I see all the ones I want to without breaking the bank.

Exploring Foyle’s, Covent Garden and Stanford’s:
In-between weaving myself through the maze of streets that make up Theaterland, London, I popped into two book shops: Foyle’s on Shaftesbury where I was delighted to find Owl Song at Dawn, a wonderful memoir by my friend and NYU (London) colleague Emma Sweeney. I will be accompanying her later this month to a reading at the sea-side in Margate–so I had better read the book before that day. What a joy to find a book by a good friend on the shelves of a well-known book store!
And then, one floor up, I found The Tree-Climber’s Guide to London by yet another one of my friends, Jack Cooke, whose work has become a bestseller and for whom I am absolutely thrilled as this kind of great success could not have come to a nicer person. Splendidly produced as a hardbound edition with the most exquisite accompanying illustrations by his wife, Jennifer, I was so struck by the quality and contents of the book that I wanted to buy it right away. It is only the fact of not being able to carry any extra weight back home that deterred me. I am sure I will find it at a local library and will enjoy exploring London with this tome in my hand. I still cannot get over the delight of finding two great books by two good friends in a major book store in a major city in less than half an hour!
The second great book store I entered was Stanford’s, on Long Acre Road, which seemed like a practical idea as I needed to do some research on a trip that Chriselle and I are planning to take in Central Europe late next month. I have bought books and maps galore from this specialty book store that only carries books and articles pertaining to travel–so it is a globetrotter’s dream–and one of my favorite venues in London.
After I found what I was looking for, I decided to try to get the books from a local library–again, I am loathe to buy books that will only add to the weight of what I am already carrying.

 Back Home for Dinner: 
It was about 8.00 pm with a slight spritz of a drizzle still in evidence when I jumped into the Tube at Leicester Square and headed home. Just a half hour later, I was inside my door and thinking about dinner. It was going to be a salad with a curried yoghurt dressing, a slice of toast with mushroom pate and a cup of asparagus soup. As I rustled it up, I thought of the folks I need to call as I now start to make plans to meet up with friends.
I watched a bit of Mary Berry’s show on TV on her family’s favorite dishes and after writing this blog, set off to go to bed.
It has been a swell day–so much work was done and so much fun was had while crowds of tourists swarmed and swirled around me, undaunted by the weather, in some of the most crowded parts of London. It was grand to feel part of that energy.
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Seeking my Inner Kid at the Museum of Childhood and Top Deck of Red Bus

Aug1

London

Somewhere in the middle of a fretful night, August 2016 arrived. I was awake until at least 3. 15 am–horribly jetlagged and counting sheep, switching on the light, doing a bit of mindless reading–anything to bring on the zzzzs. No such luck. Little wonder that when I awoke it was a little past 9.00 am! Springing out of bed, I hurried to wash and dress and get down for brekkie, sorry that I had not managed to wake up in time for 8.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral (which had been my intention).

First Brekkie Chez Moi: 
I had a fancy schmancy brekkie this morning–my first in my new digs. And co-incidentally, it was a close repeat of a first breakfast Llew and I had in my former flat in Holborn on our first morning together many years ago: an almond croissant from Paul’s Patisserie (which I picked up from City Farm yesterday) and a cup of decaff coffee. While my kettle was humming, I pulled out my pork sausages and began to cook them as well as prepare the cauliflower I’d bought the day before.  While I was munching my goodies in my adjoining breakfast room, my cauliflower boiled. With the addition of grated cheddar cheese, salt and pepper, I made a fine mash and voila, dinner for tonight was in the bag!
Back upstairs, I responded to email and decided to call my Dad in Bombay as I now have my UK phone in my possession. When I had reassured him that all was well with me, I got dressed.

Planning My Week Ahead:
Not long after, I was leaving the house to travel to the Museum of Childhood which is the nearest major museum to my residence–just a 15 minute walk away. I have decided that Mondays will be designated Museum Mondays–meaning that I will visit a museum that day.
Here is what I intend to do with the rest of the week:
Museum Monday, Theater Tuesday, Working Wednesday, Trekking Thursday, Farther Afield Friday (meaning that I shall explore a place outside London on a day trip), Slick and Scrub Saturday (meaning that it shall be devoted to chores–grocery shopping, laundry, tidying, etc.) and Suit Myself Sunday (meaning that it will used in ad hoc fashion as the mood takes me). Much, however, will depend on the weather. This Thursday, for instance, it promises to be wet while Friday will be cloudy but dry. The trek might will be postponed to Friday and rainy Thursday might well call for another day spent in a museum. Once I get over jetlag and awake at 6.00 am (as I usually do), I intend to spend the first three hours working–that will allow me to feel no guilt when I goof off for the rest of the day.  Hopefully, I will be able to stick to my plan.
So, there I was, waiting at the 309 bus stop just a few steps from my house. It deposited me at York Hall, right opposite the Museum which I reached at 12. 15 pm.

Exploring the Museum of Childhood at Bethnal Green:
The Museum of Childhood is part of the famous Victoria and Albert Museum at Kensington. It was founded in 1872 by Albert, Victoria’s oldest son, then Prince of Wales who became Edward VII. Its design was based on the great iron structure that had become part of the Great Exhibition of 1951 held at Crystal Palace. Since the Victoria and Albert Museum in Kensington was too far away and out of the reach of the poorer East Enders, it was thought fit to create a branch of the museum in Bethnal Green using the same iron structure as its foundation. This was subsequently covered on the outside with red brick.
Hence, the visitor is not prepared for the sight that hits when one goes past the brick exterior. The double-storeyed iron structure, painted white, reminded me of different things at the same time: double tiered prisons, the decks of a ship, hospital corridors, the hangar at an airport, the vast platform of a railway terminus. But, most of all, it reminded me of Bhau Ladji Museum at the Victoria Gardens in Byculla, Bombay, whose structure was also erected in the reign of Victoria in the exact same style. I was taken aback at the first sight of the museum but I quickly adjusted myself mentally to the task ahead: to try to figure out how to see it most efficiently as it was my first time inside.
The girl at the Information Desk provided me with a floor plan. It is simple enough with exhibits arranged not chronologically but thematically. I asked if there were any guided tours–there were none. I asked if there were any highlights I ought not to miss–she was unable to respond, but suggested I do not miss the Dolls Houses on the top floor as they are most popular. Thus, I decided to begin with those.
And so it was that I spent almost two hours in a place that was most un-museum-like. It was not a quiet space designed for dignified contemplation. In fact, it was noisy and hectic as it is summer and the museum is free. The place was, therefore, crawling (literally!) with kids. Of all ages, from toddlers to teenagers, they were present. The Dolls Houses sre indeed striking as are the furniture and fitments that accompanied them. There were also a lot of active play areas–games corners where patrons were playing Monopoly and Snakes and Ladders, sand pits where babies were attempting to make sand castles (without any water), crafting corners, etc. All exhibits are in great glass vitrines and the majority of the items inside were toys. I loved the vitrines devoted to childrens’ clothing from the 1700s to the present day. These cases included childrens’ shoes. There were toys galore–of every possible kind from dolls and stuffed toys to mechanical ones.
For me, the highlight of the entire museum were two Chinese Rock Gardens made of jade, ivory, enamel and embellished with pearls. They were presented by the Chinese to Queen Mary who presented them to the museum. They really are extraordinarily detailed with porcelain human beings present in them as well. The Museum has a very nice cafe and gift shop and I found a lot of young folks shopping. What is most interesting is that the museum is designed to entice children–which is why all curatorial notes are at a kid’s eye level!

Back Home for Lunch:
On my way home for lunch at almost 2.00 pm, I decided to walk it out. This took me to St. John’s Church at the corner of Bethnal Green and the Roman Road–one of only three churches in London designed by the great Sir John Soanes whose style is very evident at first glance–there are his signature pillars with what look like classical urns sitting atop them (similar to what one sees at Dulwich Art Gallery which is also his creation and the Bank of England on Threadneedle Street). I noted that there is daily Morning Prayer at 9.00 with Eucharist Mass at 1.10 pm most days. One of these days, I will try to attend so that I can see the inside of the church as I am quite fascinated by Soanes.
Spying Sainsbury catty corner to the church, I hurried in to buy one of my favorite desserts–their Tiramisu–and a packet of their Dark Chocolate Covered Ginger Biscuits as I had nothing for tea. Then crossing Bethnal Green Gardens, I spied the Bethnal Green Library and asked if I could become a member. Yes, I was told–if I brought along my tenancy agreement. So, one of these days, that is precisely what I shall do.
Leaving the gardens, I used my instinct to find my way home and arrived at my doorstep by an interesting route that took me past vast residential ‘estates’. It is rather a novelty for me to be living in the midst of a sprawling residential area–mostly populated by Muslim Bengalis from Bangladesh with loads of Somalians sprinkled in too. I hear Bengali all around me all the time in these side streets. On the main roads (Mile End and Roman), there is a vast mixture of ethnicities with people of every skin color visible. My street should truly have been named Global (not Globe) Road!

Lunch in my Dining Room and the Longest Nap in the World:
And so I sat down to eat my first lunch in my home: Toasted Olive Bread with Mushroom Pate and a salad of lettuce, apples, avocado, strawberries and cashewnuts with a balsamic vinaigrette and a thin slice of tiramisu for dessert. It was all very delicious.
Lack of sleep then became obvious and although I had decided to make a trip to Queen Mary College Library, I simply could not drag myself out without a quick shut-eye. So up I went to my room to do a bit of bibliographic research for the conference paper I need to present at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland about five weeks from now. I found the books I would need at Queen Mary College Library which is just down Mile End Road about a ten minute walk away from my home. I called the library and found out that I could be issued a Visitor’s Card but I would need to fill a form and provide a passport photo. Deciding to do that first thing tomorrow, I settled down for a much-needed nap of 20 minutes…but did not awake for two and a half hours!

Tea and a Long Joy Ride:
It was 5.30 pm when I awoke and decided to take a shower and have a spot of tea. Downstairs, while munching Date and Walnut Cake and sipping lemony tea, I watched Beck on BBC I-Player (a Swedish detective program). Then, back upstairs, I climbed into my clothes and decided, while there was still light, to take a long bus ride through Central London. There was a drizzle out the door and grabbing my brolly, I walked to the 309 bus stop and from there to a No. 8 at Bethnal Green that took me as far as Tottenham Court Road past all my former haunts, including my two former residences at Farringdon and Holborn. Awash in nostalgia, I was sorry for the rain that fogged up the windows on the upper deck as darkness swiftly descended over the city. Bus No. 73 then took me forward to Victoria from where I jumped into the District Line Tube that brought me back home at 9. 15. I had enough time to get to the Co-op for packeted soup as there was a distinct nip in the air, brought on by the rain. I had an urgent desire for a warming brew.

Dinner at Home:
Needless to say, my pork bangers and cauliflower mash formed dinner together with another helping of salad. Oh and a cup of chicken and vegetable soup, all finished with another thin slice of tiramisu. I am hoping to keep my weight stable and to balance not-so-healthy meals with a healthy amount of walking to give me the exercise I need. For today at least, I seem to have succeeded. As I ate, I watched a part of Celebrity Masterchef.
An hour later, I finished this blog and decided to call it a day. Hopefully, jetlag will not keep me up half the night.
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

A Sunday of Free Meals–Stepney’s City Farm and St. Dunstan’s Church

Jul31

London

I had a dreadful night. Wracked by jetlag and possibly the caffeinated latte I had at tea-time yesterday, I was awake most of the night. When I did eventually fall asleep, it was in the early hours–and having set my alarm for 7. 30am so that I could leave for Mass at 8. 15, I didn’t really get enough sleep at all.

Off for Mass to St. Etheldreda’s Church in Holborn:
I have a soft spot for St. Etheldreda’s Church in Holborn for many reasons: it was my London ‘parish’ when I lived here; it is the oldest Catholic church in England (being the first one to revert to Roman Catholicism after the Protestant Reformation); it is bursting with historic detail (King Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I possibly worshiped here); it is where my dear friend and former neighbor Barbara starts every Sunday. I had made plans to meet her at Mass followed by a swift breakfast at her flat next door to the one I had once occupied.
I have yet to get to know bus timings in Bethnal Green where I now live. Banking on the bus getting me to the Tube station on time was not too wise. When it did roll in (after I’d waited about 20 minutes), I raced to the Tube, got one right away (fortunately!) and reached Chancery Lane Station from where I raced off to Ely Place to catch the 9.00 am Mass–I was about 2 minutes too late, so seated myself nondescriptly in the middle region. The congregation has certainly grown in the past 8 years and there are many families and babies to be seen. Good Ood Fr. Tom Deidun still holds the fort, the same lector continues to read faithfully every Sunday (I believe she is called Alison) and the stained glass window still does what it was supposed to do for Medieval congregations–it inspires me to pray to every saint featured in its collage. After Mass, Barbara and I reunited (always a great joy!) and off we trekked to Holborn Tube station for one of her other Sunday morning rituals–picking up the Sunday Times (of which I got myself a copy as well–for among other things, it provides the weekly TV program!)

Bountiful Brekkie at 7HH:
I met Tim, Barbara’s other half at brekkie at “7HH” (High Holborn) where he provided us with crispy croissants, the most delicious bacon (to make a sandwich with or, as Barbara put it, to “nibble” on–I did the former), butter, super sweet cherries,  white peaches and coffee. It was fun, as always, to catch up with my friends and to leave with a small present from Tim: a spray can of moth repellent (short story, but not important). It is my hope that we will meet again (perhaps over a meal in my home soon).

Discovering the Number 8 Bus Route:
I decided to take the Number 8 bus all the way back home to Bethnal Green but when I got nearer my vicinity, changed my mind to ride it all the way to the end of its route–at Bow Church–to enable me get my bearings. This allowed me to pass Victoria Park and the Canal whose tow path makes for a nice hiking route, spied the Acelor Mittal Slide Tower at the Olympics Park and finally got to Bow Church (closed but clearly very old and very atmospheric). My brainwave gave me a good sense of where the buses that ply through my new area will take me.
Just as impulsively, I took the Number 25 to get back home–this plies along Mile End Road–and ten minutes later, I was at Stepney Green Tube station which is the other one that serves my home’s location. Again, since I was carrying the diagram that Mine Host N gave me, I decided to explore Stepney–it was as good a time as any other and doing it before I got home seemed like a good idea.

Exploring Stepney Green–City Farm and St. Dunstan’s Church:
A few minutes later, I was at Stepney High Street attempting to find two places that N had drawn out: City Farm which reputedly has a nice cafe and what he called “Old Stepney Church”. Well, City Farm turned out to be a real farm–I had expected a Farmer’s Market! Imagine finding a fully functioning farm filled with pigs, goats, sheep, hens, rabbits, etc. right in the midst of the city of London! I am still in shock. The place is also filled with allotments–those plots of land that are tended by city folk who lack their own gardens and wish to try their hands as growing their own “veg”. Well, well, well. I had the nicest stroll through the pens as I watched kids pet the animals, feed them hay and food pellets and take in the sight of so many lush vegetable gardens brimming over with tomatoes and peppers and raspberry and blackberry canes that turned out the sweetest fruit.
Just when I was about to leave, I came upon a workshop/shed and made the sweet discovery that it was a day when three ‘green’ neighborhood organizations had clubbed together to provide visitors with lunch created from their organically grown produce. I was invited to wait for ten minutes as set-up continued. It wasn’t long before the lovely buffet of salads was opened to the public and I found myself holding a plate flowing with a corn, beans and red pepper salad, a green salad made with red lettuce and balsamic vinaigrette, a quinoa salad with oranges, chick peas and mango, a rice salad with boiled potatoes and lots of herbs for taste and flavor, a noodle salad with carrots and cukes. There were salted cashew nuts, lovely home-baked bread and mushroom pate and for dessert, a fruit salad with apples, grapes, peaches and blackberries. Seriously, I could not have eaten a more healthy or unexpectedly delicious lunch! We were all then invited to help ourselves to the surplus produce grown on the allotments and as I chose garlic, ginger, avocados, Bibb lettuce, a seed-studded loaf of bread and an olive loaf, I thought just how lucky I was to be fed lunch for free and be presented all these natural goodies!
The afternoon continued to present an embarrassment of riches–for right across the street was “Old Stepney Church” and since the door was wide open, I simply had to make a visit. Imagine my delight at finding out that it was the Church of St. Dunstan and All Saints which has stood at this site since 952 AD! It certainly wears its age on its sleeve. It is one of the churches that is referred to in the famous “Oranges and Lemons” poem about London’s old churches: “When will that be? say the Bells of Stepney.”
As I entered the church, a bunch of lovely old church ladies came to greet me and inform me that it was the afternoon of the Poppy Picnic–a fund raiser for descendants of British veterans of the Great War. Children had been told to bring their stuffed toys to church–these would be ‘parachuted’ down from the tower of the church to their waiting arms below. How charming a tradition is this? And as part of the picnic, the ladies had set out a real genuine Afternoon Tea–with every manner of cake and scones, split and spread with strawberry jam and a bowl of real clotted cream placed at the side. There was also a bowl of strawberries for those who preferred just strawberries and cream. I was invited to join in and as I made my donation, I moved to the front of the church for a prayerful visit.
Simply unable to resist the treats of the tea-time table, I helped myself to a slice of Victoria sponge and Chocolate cake and half a scone. As there was no lemon in sight, I opted for a coffee instead of the more traditional tea. As no one can do an Afternoon Tea like church ladies, the whole experience was homely, authentic and charming and took me back to the era of the TV series, Home Fires. So, as I left the church, it occurred to me that three meals of the day had been made available to me through the generosity of friends and London’s community events: breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea. As for dinner? Well, wouldn’t you just know it? I had an invitation to supper for later that day.
Laden with my Sunday Times and the bulging bag of fresh produce, I jumped into a bus that dropped me right outside my house–and ten minutes later, I was putting away my goodies and making my way upstairs for a nap. For lack of sleep was swiftly catching up with me and I needed to unwind after my lovely exploration of one portion of the East End of London. An hour later, having had some shut eye, I woke up, had a shower and headed off to my next appointment.

Supper with Fond Friends:
The District Line transported me to Sloan Square in Chelsea in about 20 minutes and by the time I was ringing the bell to Grosvenor Court where my friends Michael and Cynthia live with their son Aidan, I could barely contain my excitement at seeing them again. We spent the next couple of hours together catching up on so many things that have happened in our respective families and our lives. Cynthia provided one of her delicious meals after Michael placed a G&T in my hand. Over her superb roast lamb, mashed potatoes with gravy and mixed steamed veg (brocolli, squash and beans), with fresh berries, custard and ice-cream for pudding, the evening just rolled smoothly along. I picked up my UK phone (which Cynthia had been holding and using occasionally to keep my number alive) and then it was time to bid them goodbye before it turned too dark. Being that it is summer, there is light until about 9.00 pm, but until I get the lie of the land, they do not want me out too late–and quite sensibly too!
It was at 9.45 pm that I reached my door. There were still a lot of folks on the road (much to my relief!) and lots of cars along the street too. I videochatted with Llew, went in for a shower and sat down to blog.
It was an eventful day and, unbelievably, one on which I was fed every single meal (and quite deliciously too!) by generous Londoners! As this is the first time such a thing has happened to me, I do not believe that I will ever experience such a phenomenon again!
With the weekend devoted to easing into my new life and discovering my new neighborhood, I am ready to plunge into some work tomorrow. Bring on the working week…
Until tomorrow, cheerio!

Back in Londinium! And First-Day Flutters!

Jul30

London
First Day Flutters! I felt them big time. Flutters of trepidation as I wondered how I would handle my mountainous baggage alone! And flutters of exhilaration at walking the lovely streets of London again!
So yes, here I go blogging again! Or rather, here I come! Back again in Londinium. Or T’Smoke–whatever you might wish to call it, I am in Blighty now–for the long haul! And no one could be happier! For as firsts go, this day was fab.

Journey Outward:    
Bidding goodbye to the family this time round was harder than I expected. Excitement was tempered by a twinge of sadness as I hugged and kissed the Smallies who are now part of our family in Southport. Llew dropped me to JFK–all the while more concerned than I was about the load I was carrying: two cases of 50 lbs each, a strolley backpack with not one but two laptops (don’t ask!)–a PC And a Mac–and a crossover pocketbook. I knew I could do it–maybe even in my sleep for London, as you faithful readers of this blog know, is my second home.
I couldn’t have had a more comfy flight for, as luck would have it, I had a window seat with no one else occupying the two seats besides me–truly, the angels of international travel had my back! After a picture-perfect takeoff (the skyline of Manhattan silhouetted against a gorgeous coral sunset), I moved like lightning to the end aisle seat to hog it all, stretched out with three pillows and a blanket and ordered a G&T to celebrate my return to the UK. Dinner swiftly followed (and as airline meals go, this wasn’t half bad for the chicken with orzo they presented me was far more than merely edible). Then, as is my wont on trans-Atlantic flights, I popped a sleeping pill into my mouth and was out for a whole four hours. By the time I surfaced, we were preparing for landing. And, once again, I hope you will believe me when I say that I got a brilliant picture of Buckingham Palace from my window as we made a smooth touchdown at Heathrow.
Llew needn’t have chewed his nails off in worry, on my behalf, for I sailed out of Immigration, loading my cases on to a trolley and hotfooted it to the Piccadilly Line in under ten minutes. After loading my Oystercard with a monthly Travelpass, I slid into the elevator that sank me down to the platform and, five minutes later, voila! I was in the Tube and changing at Hammersmith for the District Line right across the platform. A quick call to inform my ‘pick up person’ that I would be there in about 40 minutes and, like clockwork, an almost empty train dropped me off at Stepney Green where I connected with him.

Getting to Know Bethnal Green and my New London Digs:
My landlord and landlady (whom I shall refer to from now on as Mine Hosts) couldn’t be nicer. N was there, as promised, and with all the gallantry of the Middle Ages, hauled my cases up as if they were featherweights, as he led me to the surface–of Mile End Road. The neighborhood was still in the throes of its Saturday Lie-In as we dragged my cases down two New York blocks to my new digs on Globe Road–and a more appropriate name would be hard to find for someone who does as much globe-trotting as I! His wife, C was awaiting my arrival indoors as we opened the lime green door to my new home, a charming Victorian three-story semi-detached house with a front and back garden! As my eyes scanned my new abode, I thought, “Have I lucked out once again, or what?”
We spent the next two hours getting to know each other and my new home. They put me through the paces as they shared wifi codes with me, pointed out light switches, security measures (locks, latches, and the like), discussed rental payments with me, walked around the garden with me, gave me the Grand Tour of all three floors, showed me how kitchen appliances, shower and heater worked–all over a cup of coffee and a bowl of muesli as I suddenly discovered that I was starving.  They told me to help myself to any of their pantry staples (oils, vinegars, spices, condiments), introduced me to their storehouse of a gazillion teas (only to discover, much to their chagrin, that I drink decaff!) and made me feel fully at home. They had also drawn me a cool diagram of the neighborhood with landmarks like museums and markets, favorite restaurants and bus and Tube stops all highlighted. How unbelievably thoughtful!

Off to the British Library:
Two hours later, all formalities ironed out, I set out to find my way to the British Library at King’s Cross as my Reader’s Ticket expired yesterday! How was that for timing??? I jumped on to the No. 8 bus at Bethnal Green, hopped off at Liverpool Street and took the Tube. From there, it was only a stroll to the Library on a glorious day, temperature-wise. After the heat wave we’ve had Stateside, it felt heavenly to wear a light jacket! Reader’s Card safely in my pocketbook, I browsed around an exhibit called Punk–but found little in it to arouse my interest.

Crossing Regent’s Canal:
Having used wifi at the library, I set out in search of the nearest Waitrose as I needed a few urgent groceries. And so it was that I made another charming discovery. There is a huge Waitrose behind St. Pancras Station (one of my very favorite buildings in London with its splendid Victorian Gothic facade by Sir Gilbert Scott for whom I have a soft spot as he also designed the library building of the University of Bombay). I can never pass by without saying a silent Thank you to Sir John Betjeman who saved it from the wrecking ball! (How could something so grand ever be slated for demolition?) And what’s more, that Waitrose is hidden in a vast warehouse behind a pedestrian plaza that sits astride the Regent’s Canal to which one is led by steps going down–like getting to the banks of the Seine in Paris at St. Michel! It was enchanting. I can see myself actually strolling along the canal tow path in the very near future.
But for today, I was not to be distracted from my mission…and discovering that I can get a free coffee every time I use a Waitrose card, I signed up for one and began shopping. I got Warburton’s multi-seed bread (which I love), honey yogurt, honey ham, mature cheddar cheese, a lemon for my tea, decaff tea bags, Lavazza decaff coffee (because C recommended it), a date and walnut loaf for tea, pork sausages (which I shall fry for my dinner tomorrow), a cauliflower to make a mash to accompany the sausages, a bag of fruit and nut muesli and a ton of free magazines! Did I ever tell you how much I adore Waitrose? After paying, I obtained a free latte and sipped it in the cafe with a slice of my cake–as I hadn’t really eaten anything since that bowl of muesli at 9.30 am. At 5 pm, I left Waitrose, with a grocery load far less weightier than it sounds.
At King’s Cross, I took the Tube home and within twenty-five minutes, I was testing my new skills with the new keys I’d been handed. Easy peasy!

Unpacking and Getting Settled:
It is a thrilling process–unpacking and deciding where to put what in a new home. My room on the first floor (American second) is darling. It has a double bed, a night stand, a carved wooden armoire, a very modern desk and ancient chair. My bathroom is just outside the door and rearranging my toiletries and cosmetics in it was also a blast. These flutters of delight I feel are priceless. My window has double glazing–so busy Globe Road is not a concern.
I then got down to setting up my laptops with wifi connections and suddenly felt fully in sync with my family members again. Arranging my groceries was also an opportunity to rearrange the kitchen cupboards, discover where everything is kept, and make an open toasted sandwich for myself with fig jam, ham and cheddar washed down with lemony tea. I listened to Radio Four as I munched because there is no TV in this house–not an issue as I have BBC’s I-player here and Netflix!!! The evenings will be a good time to catch up with the movies and TV series I love. I am pretty sure that it will not be long before this old home, that was built and has been lived in since the time of Queen Victoria, feels very much like home to me.
So much has changed since the last time I lived away from Llew in London. There was no Facetime or Imo then–although there was Skype with its rather spotty reception. Now Llew and I intend to videochat daily. Just as I did today with him as well as with my niece and nephew.
So there you have it! A Fab First Day! And a few fine flutters! Thanks for following me again. I would love to have your comments. Please do read my posts, but please do also respond.
Until tomorrow, cheerio….