Archive | December 2008

A White Connecticut Christmas!

Dec27

Monday, December 22, 2008
Southport, CT

If I had been dreaming of a white Christmas in Connecticut, I would not have been disappointed. Snow is piled up about 6 inches thick and the driveway at Holly Berry House is a skating rink. Not having driven for four months, I am a nervous wreck behind the wheel as I try to coax our Toyota Camry to climb the slight incline towards our garage. I have a bit of shopping to do—gifts for folks in India and ingredients for our Christmas meal. But this evening, I will be meeting my pals at dinner at Bangalore Restaurant in Fairfield.

It turns out that my friend and world travel companion Amy Tobin initiated the move that would bring a few of her closest Fairfield friends together for a Reunion to coincide with my visit home. After much mass-emailing, the group finally found a mutually convenient date…except that in the morning, Llew called to tell me that the volume at work was so intense, he seriously thought he would miss the meal altogether. I called my friend Amy de Lannoy and asked her for a ride and she came with husband Dan promptly at 7. 20 to pick me up.

What a lovely raucous reunion we all had at Bangalore! There was Mary-Lauren and her husband Brett, Bonnie and husband Art, Amy with Dan and, of course, Amy Tobin with her Significant Other Rothschild whom, except for Llew and myself, none of the others had met. In fact, they had almost begun to believe that Rothschild–more elusive than the Scarlet Pimpernel –did not exist beyond Amy’s imagination. The folks at Bangalore gave us a private room which allowed us to be even more raucous all evening long as we caught up on all our news. I was so thrilled to have been able to see so many of my Fairfield friends again at one go and I am very grateful to Amy Tobin for setting this up and to Amy de Lannoy for coordinating the effort.

Llew, of course, was missing, and as the resident ‘India Expert’, I was invited to order our meal. Amy de Lannoy, who knows Bangalore and Indian food better than the others, consulted with me and we settled for Lamb Biryani, Chicken Tikka Masala (Amy T’s must-have), Navratan Korma, Shrimp Chemeen Curry, Chicken Tangdi Kebab—and all of the food was delicious. Every one of us relished the meal to the very last morsel, so that by the time poor Llew turned up, the dishes did not require washing! However, he was able to join us for a glass of wine while a few of us opted for masala chai. Conversation never stopped for a second as we discussed everything—from Chriselle’s engagement and wedding plans to Amy de Lannoy’s new dog, from Halle’s job to The Factoras’ Christmas plans…on and on it went, and of course, I talked about my new life in London and how much I love it—trying hard all the time not to gush too much! Everyone was delighted that Llew was able to join us even if for a little while. It was a lovely end to a lovely day!

Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Southport, CT

With only two days left to Christmas, I have finally surfaced to start to think about gift wrapping. I multi-tasked, retrieving boxes from our basement, measuring wrapping paper and decorating parcels with Christmas ornaments. I also put together a number of gift bags for Llew to take to his colleagues at BNP Paribas. After he left, I set about trying to mail out our annual Christmas greetings via email. I started off okay, but somewhere also the way I messed up and ended up losing connectivity to the Internet. This turned out to be my inadvertent installation of a Firewall which has stopped us accessing the internet and there went my project for the year. It seems as if a few of the folks on our mailing list did get the letter containing a round up of our family news, but most of the others will now have to wait until January 14 or 15 when I will be back home in London and am online again.

Since I have no internet connection at my parents’ place in Bandra, Bombay, Chriselle talked me out of carrying my laptop to India and I think her suggestion was very sound indeed. Not having my PC, will give me the chance to truly interact with my parents, spend quality time with them and my cousin Blossom and her kids and generally make for a more fruitful stay in India. I will, of course, continue to keep a travel journal as I always do, and I will resume blogging retrospectively,

Here in snow-ridden Southport, I still seem to be keeping London time for I am awaking at 5 am and by 8 pm, I fall comatose on the couch. Llew is keeping extraordinarily late hours at the bank and doesn’t get home until 10 pm. but he does have the day off tomorrow. And so I finally turned to the matter of a menu for our Christmas dinner. Hard to believe how long grocery shopping and running bank errands takes, but I was only able to get back home at 11. 30 am to start cooking. I have to say that everything feels a little odd including donning my apron and starting to cook. It’s not as if I have forgotten how to wield a laddle—it’s just that for almost three months now, I have barely cooked at all in London and though I realized that I love it and miss messin’ around a kitchen, it still felt a little strange to have to start chopping and peeling and re-discovering that the burners on my cooking range do not light spontaneously but need to be manually lit with a match!

I spent the afternoon making Chole, Stuffing Mushrooms with Bacon and Caramelized Onions and pouring a cheese sauce over the lot. I also made my mother’s Cucumber-Coconut Salad and the Koftas for the Kofta Biryani. By 5 pm, I was tired and went off for a short nap only to come down to the kitchen again to start preparations for the Rajpipla Chicken (Parsi-Style, another recipe from my mother’s vast repertoire of favorites) which I marinated in a ginger-garlic paste. Suddenly, conjuring culinary magic felt fabulous again and I was thrilled to have all the pots and pans and utensils I needed for a large meal of this kind.

When Llew got home, we watched the Jay Leno shows and Britcoms that he had TIVO-ed for me. He was also keen for me to view the Saturday Night Live installments that he had saved in which Sarah Palin had been so mercilessly parodied. We laughed till our sides ached. It was like old times again—two (old) Couch Potatoes who thoroughly enjoy dinner and the telly. Then, we were watching New Tricks, a British mystery series. Only I fell asleep on the sofa at the very climax, just as I used to do until four months ago! Put me in front of a TV after a good meal and I am out like a light!!!

Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Southport, CT

Llew had taken the day off so we luxuriated all morning, eating a big breakfast and lingering over coffee. He had a doctor’s appointment in the morning, which left me enough time to complete the chicken that had been marinating overnight in my fridge. After frying it till it was golden brown, I made the yogurt sauce flavored with tomato ketchup and Worcestershire sauce that drowns it in a yummy bath!

By the time Llew got back, the rain had started to fall—freezing rain and sleet and I wanted to stay cooped up at home, except that Llew persuaded me to get into the car with him and drive up to Clinton Crossings to the designer outlets so that I could get all my shopping for India done in one fell swoop. Llew had been up there himself with our Canadian friends at Thanksgiving and had informed me that the prices were unbeatable. He wanted to buy a few pairs of trousers, I need a few gifts for my loved ones in India and overall, it made sense to schlep up there and kill as many birds as we could with one stone. So much as I wanted to stay homebound, I complied with his suggestion and off we went.

Driving conditions were pretty awful and visibility was very poor indeed, but when we arrived at Clinton, it was fabulous. We went into stores like Geoffrey Beene and Van Heusen that appeared to be closing down completely. Merchandise was pretty much being given away and I found great clothing for my relatives in India, Llew found the trousers he wanted, I got a bunch of Argyle patterned socks and feeling exceedingly pleased with ourselves, we returned home in time for showers and to catch the 6 pm evening Mass at St. Thomas Aquinas Church, our parish in Fairfield.

At 5. 30 pm, the church was already half full—it is always a mystery to me how so many folks seem to crawl out of the woodwork only at Christmas and Easter! Where are all these people during the rest of the year? Fr. Martin was in great spirits—in keeping with the season. A few mornings ago, when I went to the Rectory to pick up some additional calendars for my brother Russel in Bombay, I had bumped into Fr. Martin and received a warm and very hearty welcome as well as a hug and a kiss! He was so pleased to see me again and wanted to know all about my life in London. That’s one of the nicest things about coming home to a small Connecticut town–everyone knows everybody else.

Mass was very interesting indeed. There was a Nativity Pageant put on by the kids—a lovely attempt at recreating that first Christmas except that Mary was taller and probably older than the slightly-built Joseph. Wonderful singing from our choir (though I was disappointed by the absence of the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ from Handel’s Messiah) and the bringing out of the cake, fully lit with a gazillion candles that were blown out as all the kids in church sang ‘Happy Birthday to Jesus’, make the entire mass very special indeed.

Then, at the very end, when I was returning from Communion, I spotted our neighbor John Donovan sitting with his family, three pews behind ours, and waving enthusiastically to me. Of course, then, after Mass, I had a fabulous reunion with Trish, his wife and my walking partner, who tells me that she misses me sorely because she has no one to walk with anymore! She commiserated with me over Plantar Fascittis and informed me that she had it a few years ago, brought on by running. It took her two to three months, she said, to get rid of it, which is much less time than it seems to be taking me to lick it. From everything I have heard since arriving in the States, I must keep up with the exercises and not give up doing them even when it seems like I am healing. Trish suggested yoga (she is a huge yoga afficionado) and gave me all the news about our new neighbors next door, who moved in while I was in London. Gosh, it really seems as if I will have a lot of catching up to do by the time I arrive in Connecticut next year. “You’ll really like them, Rochelle”, said Trish about the Trottas, who have moved up north from Florida and are thrilled about all the snow and ice as they’ve never truly experienced a white winter, Trish tells me!

Meanwhile, my friend Rosemary Harding in Cincinnati (to whom I chatted on the phone) and Mary Jo Smith in Connecticut both told me to continue doing the exercises as stretching the plantar is the only way to make the condition disappear for good. Not having done the exercises for more than three weeks now, I feel awful, but have resovled to resume my exercise routine right away! I am amazed at how many people tell me that they have had plantar fascittis or know someone who had it. Mary, my dental hygienist, told me that her mother had it ten years ago!

Llew and I returned home to one of our traditional Christmas Eve dinners—Roasted Shrimp with Garlic and Tomatoes served with crusty bread and a green salad. This is what I most miss. Being at home with Llew, eating a home-cooked meal, sipping a glass of wine, having something terrific on the telly. By the way, I’ve discovered that Ina Garten, aka The Barefoot Contessa, has a new TV series on—it’s called Back to Basics and is accompanied by one of her fabulous books—which I hope I will find in my Christmas stocking! When I get back to London, I will start watching her show again as I am sure they will show the newest episodes based on the latest book.

Thursday, December 25, 2008
Southport, CT

Christmas Day dawned crisp and clean, the land covered by a blanket of glistening snow. I swear that for the first few moments when I opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was. The silence was complete and added to my sense of bewilderment. Was I in London? Was I in Bombay? Opening one of my eyes, very slowly, I spied the navy blue down comforter draped around me and I realized then that I was home in Southport, Connecticut. It was the strangest feeling in the world.

Because we had been to mass the previous evening, we had the morning to laze around and eat a big brunch. I always fix us a Seafood Brunch Strada on Christmas morning with shrimp and crabmeat, sautéed onions and three cheeses all bound together with an egg custard. It’s always scrumptious and since I bake it in a huge casserole, Llew will have plenty of leftovers!

Llew pottered around on our computer trying to disable the firewall and get internet connectivity again but he wasn’t able to succeed. I began assembling a salad that involved the use of pomegranate seeds and we all know how long it takes to get those little rubies out of those canvas shells! I decided that since we have so many bottles of champagne at home, I would fix Peach Bellinnis when Chriselle and Chris arrive later in the afternoon–a way of celebrating their engagement! Chriselle spent Christmas Eve with Chris’ folks in the Hamptons and attended mass with them this morning. The drive from Long Island to Connecticut should take them about two hours. We expect them by 1. 30 or 2 pm.

I pureed the peaches for the Bellinnis, juiced the pomegranate to make the syrup for the cocktails and assembled the rest of the ingredients for the salad—romaine lettuce, mandarin oranges, honey roasted peanuts, goat cheese in a parsley-flavored dressing—a variation on a recipe that was given to me years ago by my friend Liz Stiles. I also began to parboil basmati rice for the biryani and put the finishing touches on the table—we had English crackers at each place setting and all of these little touches made me feel so very festive. I love Christmas because it makes me feel like a kid again and this year is extra special because I am spending it with the loved ones whom I have crossed an ocean to see!

Chriselle and Chris arrived on cue at 2.00pm in Santa guise for they did enter hauling what looked like a huge sack of gifts! They were delighted with the Bellinis. Of course, we took a few pictures by the tree before we settled down to catch up with everything that has happened in their lives since I left in August—not the least of which is their engagement and wedding plans! I admired Chriselle’s diamond solitaire before we decided to begin our meal. Chris loves Indian food and couldn’t wait to tuck in. The Salad was a huge hit and was followed by the Chicken with Chole and Mushrooms served with Naans. When that was done, I brought out the Kofta Biryani and the Cucumber-Coconut Salad. We decided to take a break and have dessert only after we’d finished opening gifts.

Chriselle loved the outfits I got her from Oxford Street and quite happily modeled them for us as she opened each box. For Chris, at Chriselle’s suggestion, we got a zipped sweat shirt and an ornament from the Metropolitan Museum. I had brought Llew a DVD of the French and Saunders Still Alive Show that I had seen alone at Drury Lane Theater in London. When I had tried to buy a ticket for him when he was with me in London, every single one was sold out. I was delighted that he could at least enjoy it through DVD. I also got him the twin set of Cliff Richard’s 50th anniversary DVD with which he was delighted. He said he would download it on to his Ipod at once. Chris looked bewildered, never having heard of Cliff Richard and we had to inform him that Cliff Richard was only one of the most popular singers in the UK (and maybe the world!) and had been for 50 years!

As for me, I was perfectly pleased with my Ina Garten Back to Basics Book—it was exactly what I wanted and I couldn’t wait to browse through it, but, of course, I know that this pleasure will have to wait until I return to the States next year. Chriselle squealed when she opened a present from Chris to discover the DVD of Mamma Mia, a movie she hadn’t seen. Since Llew hadn’t seen it either, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon watching it and singing along, much to Chris’ amusement.

Half way through the movie (which I had seen twice inflight across the pond), I went into the kitchen to fix coffee and dessert. This was my piece de resistance—a Limited Edition vintage Christmas Pudding from Harrods which came with silver pennies to pop into each serving (so that everyone came out a lucky winner) and a jar of brandy butter. I sent Llew out into the garden to snip off a sprig of holly to decorate the top (our home is not called Holly Berry House for nothing!) and turned it over on a plate. Needless to say, the pudding had been steaming for two hours on the stove while we were at dinner and was still wonderfully warm. I poured a generous quantity of rum over it and then set it alight and we all watched with glee as the blue flame enveloped the pud in a warm light. I also set out Mince Pies (Chris thought they were filled with ground beef not realizing that mincemeat in the UK is candied dried fruit!) With cream and coffee, we enjoyed our lovely English treats that came in a ceramic pudding basin with Harrods emblazoned on the side of it—a true keeper and one in which I know I will make Christmas puddings in the years to come!

With the movie having come to an end and dessert consumed, the Christmas festivities came to a halt. It was a very different Christmas from the ones we usually have—we have combined with our close friends Ian and Jenny Sequeira and their kids to have a joint celebration for several years and last year, there were fifteen adults at Christmas at our place! This year was just the opposite—it was quiet and relaxed–with just the four of us. We had loads of fun, we did pull crackers, I did insist that we wear our hats throughout the meal, we did keep the champagne flowing and we did watch a movie and enjoy a great meal together.

But for me, most of all, this Christmas was one in which I had an epiphany of sorts. It was one, perhaps because I have been so far away from my loved ones, in which I learned the true meaning of the season. Christmas, I now realize, is all about compassion for those who have so much less than we do and it is about giving till it hurts. In faraway Belfast, I was taught the lesson that my Dad has been trying to teach me for years—that there is greater joy in giving than in receiving. I learned this lesson from a lone accordionist in Belfast who blew on his blue fingers as he stood on the sidewalk all day trying to earn a few pennies to keep his four children fed. I could not get the image of this Eastern European immigre out of my mind—far from the impoverished fields of Rumania which he has abandoned to seek a better life in Ireland for himself and his family, this man taught me how fabulous it can feel to fill a face with sudden and unexpected joy. Fernando’s face lit up like a candle when I placed a note in his hand. It was the largest pound note I had in my wallet at that time. I left Belfast holding close to my heart that extraordinarily warming feeling of having brought some joy to a few very poor people at this special time of year when so many folks are reeling from job losses. Tears filled my eyes as I walked away from Fernando–but they were not tears of sorrow at all. They were tears of the purest joy at how much happiness I had brought him by one small spontaneous gesture. Throughout Christmas Day, I kept thinking of those four poor Rumanian kids who, I hoped, would have a slightly better Christmas, because I had been moved by the sight of their hardworking father who stood on the street in the sleet and freezing rain of an Irish winter’s day in order to make a few pennies by playing his accordion.

For these gifts—the gifts of being with my nearest and dearest this holiday, for the peace that passeth understanding and for the happiness that came from my giving a small portion of my excess of possessions—I am truly grateful this Christmas.

Home for the Holidays! Back in Southport, Connecticut

Dec22

Monday, December 22, 2008
Southport, Connecticut

Remind me never again to try lugging a 50 pound bag along High Holborn while also hauling a backpack with my laptop and accessories! It was a Herculean task but that bit was the worst part of my journey across the Pond home to Southport, Connecticut. In fact, a treat awaited me at Heathrow where Grey Goose Vodka and Hotel Chocolat had set up a tasting bar within the duty free area! With almost three hours to kill before I boarded the flight, I downed a couple of Cosmos and a Pear Vodka on ice–all courtesy of the company and a very lovely bar tender. Except that none of these shots sent me off to sleep as I had hoped.

It was a very comfortable–if unusually long–flight, but I kept myself more than entertained watching Mamma Mia (not once, but twice because I enjoyed it so much) and The Women as well as a slew of TV programs. It was a little difficult, I have to admit, to break out of my self-imposed Bubble for I have enjoyed ignoring the media for the past four months and insulating myself from the goings-on in the larger world, being content with the little world of my own making at High Holborn.

Awful weather conditions in New England delayed my arrival for an hour, but I was grateful to have been airborne and not confined to a hotel at Heathrow (as were the passengers of the flight that was scheduled a few hours before mine).

I arrived at Kennedy airport in New York to a typical North Atlantic winter–snow was waist high from a recent blizzard and driving conditions had my heart in my mouth throughout the journey from Queens in New York to Southport, Connecticut. It was 3 am when Llew pulled into our driveway–surprisingly, nervous energy had kept me awake throughout the flight and all along the long car ride home.

The next morning saw me unpack and run out to the hairdressers. Deborah, my fabulous stylist and fellow Anglophile, gave me a great cut while she caught up on all my London news. Then, Llew and I did a bit of shopping (I found a fabulous new down coat at GAP in Westport for a fraction of its regular price–I swear they are practically giving things away here in the US!) Then, we had a short nap before waking up to take showers and get ready for another long drive, this time to Somerset, New Jersey, to attend the annual Goan Association Dinner-Dance!

We met Chriselle briefly en route and indulged in quick hugs before we were on the road again. It is frightfully cold out here and I feel like an ice-cube even in our heated home. In Holborn, my flat is so well insulated that I did not have the heating on at all–at least not so far!

The Goan Dance was a lot of rollicking fun as it is every year. We met a bunch of our closest friends and danced to the music of The Naked Flame. The dinner was catered by Akbar Indian Restaurant–nothing to shout about! Everyone said that London seemed to suit me fine and they wanted to know all about my new life in the UK. I tried not to make them feel too envious!

It was 3 am again by the time we reached home. Though our friend Mariette had invited us to spend the night at their place in Short Hills, New Jersey, we declined as the weather reports forecast more sleet and freezing rain at dawn. We were eager to get back home with the least fearsome driving conditions and we were glad we did. This time round, I was fast asleep in the car long before we arrived at Holly Berry House. Those Black Russians Llew fixed me seemed to have something to do with it!!!

Llew and I spent Sunday over a leisurely breakfast at home. I wrapped a bunch of gifts that I have bought from London for my friends and for Llew and Chriselle while Llew hauled our Christmas tree up from the basement and decided to set up the lights. Only we could not find our lights! Llew was certain we had discarded them last year and so set off to buy new ones while I pottered around getting the feel of our home again after such a long time away. I notice that there is a bit of disarray in our family room where the skylights are leaking and have to be replaced. Our contractor Kurt has begun work on the replacement and will soon have it all done.

When Llew returned, we got down to the serious business of decorating our home and then, of course, at the bottom of one of our boxes, we found our missing lights! It will be a quiet Christmas for us this year–just Chriselle and Chris will be with us. It will be a very relaxed family affair, for a change, an opportunity that we all need to catch up and spend quality time together. Llew and I will cook up a storm, of course. He has taken a day off on Christmas Eve to allow us to plan our menu and get cracking with the feast.

Together we had carols blasting on the stereo as we decorated our tree, deciding to curtail the ornaments to merely a few of our vintage baubles. This will make it much easier on Llew who will have to dismantle everything alone once I leave for India on December 26. I did decorate the dining table, and have hung up our stockings, but that was the sum total of the decorations we’re putting up this year! It will still feel Christmassy with a fire going in the family room–only much less fussy than it usually is!

This morning, I have a dental appointment with my hygienist Mary. It is funny how I have come home to set up appointments with all the professionals upon whom I rely year-round–hairdresser, dental hygienist, etc. I shall spend the rest of the day emailing our annual Holiday Family Newsletter and packing for Bombay while menu planning etc. Llew and I have been watching Charlie Rose on TIVO and I realize that Charlie Rose is another thing I miss in London. It doesn’t take too long to slip into the complex tenor of my Connecticut life and I am doing just that the moment!

Apart from traveling to my parents’ home in Bombay, India, I have never really ‘come Home for Christmas’ and I have to admit, it feels great to do so!

A Christmas ‘Panto’ in Richmond and Hyde Park’s Winter Wonderland

Dec18

Thursday, December 18, 2008
London

My guests arrived when I was beginning to despair–close to noon. I had expected them at least an hour earlier, but used the time to finalize my own packing as well as seeing to the last-minute items on my To-Do List.

With little time to spare after we said our first Hellos, I ushered Jenny-Lou and her daughter Kristen to the underground station for our long ride to Hammersmith from where we changed lines to get to Richmond. I was afraid it would take us much longer to get there and was relieved when we arrived at Richmond with a good 45 minutes to spare. This left us time to pick up sandwiches from Tesco which we ate while overlooking Richmond’s spacious Green, right behind the bustle of the shopping area which is called The Quadrant. Then, ten minutes later, we were inside the theater, picking up tickets that were held for me at the Box Office.

No one was more surprised than I to find the theater packed to the rafters with the tiniest little school kids out on a field trip with their long-suffering teachers. Every seat was occupied and the little ones were squirming in their seats with excitement. Peter Pan was the perfect play for this age group–most under seven years of age. I had such a blast sitting in the midst of these lovely innocent angels and watching their reactions. From everything I had read about this typically British tradition of the pantomime, it is a highly interactive form of drama in which the audience participates fully, warning the hero and heroine about the approach of the ‘baddies’ who hide behind the rocks or shows their appreciation not just by clapping their hands but by stamping their feet as well and shouting till they’re hoarse. Bonnie Langford’s Peter Pan was wonderfully lively and her flying through the stage, though now technologically old-hat was still marvelous enough for the little kids to stare open-mouthed in amazement. As for Captain Hook, played by the one and only Simon Callow, he was superb and seemed to be having the most fun. I was delighted to find an old song I had learnt when I was myself in primary school, “We’re following the Leader” as well as, most unexpectedly, Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock” both featured in the show –the latter with slightly different lyrics!!! Overall, I had a superbly entertaining time at the theater and was glad that my very first British ‘panto’ was a resounding success. Jenny and Kristen loved it too and were as charmed as I was by the vigour with which the audience got involved.

Back on the Tube, we got off at Hyde Park Corner, which made it very convenient for us to visit the Winter Wonderland about which everyone has been raving. Each time I have passed by Hyde Park in the past few weeks, I have been attracted to the giant ferris wheel and the lights in the trees and the general mood of merriment that surrounds the park. Entry to the park was free, but as soon as we reached the first stall, we knew we were in for a rare treat. The Wonderland turned out to be a German Christmas Fair complete with food stalls, shops selling distinctively German Christmas handicrafts and a variety of awesome rides that were most unusual and extraordinarily tasteful. Jenny and Kristen went on the Big Scream Roller coaster and Kristen walked through the Maze of Mirrors. We picked up steaming hot Gluhwein (hot mulled wine) and hot chocolate for Kristen,and walked with our glasses as they warmed our hands effectively. Not that they needed much warming. After weeks of awful weather, it was unseasonably mild tonight which made our stroll in the park very pleasurable indeed. For dinner, we chose to eat a variety of items–all German, all carb-heavy. Kristen opted for bratwurst in a long toasted roll, Jenny was attracted to a plate of hot boiled potatoes seasoned with bacon and I chose a big bowl of sauteed mushrooms served with a garlic sauce. For dessert. we picked up a paper cone filled with crisp honey roasted cashew nuts and almonds–so yummy! We walked right to the very end of the fair to take in the bungie jumpers and the huge ferris wheel that was beautifully lit up and filled the entire area with a festive spirit.

When we’d reached the banks of the Serpentine, we turned around and talked towards the exit, then hopped into a bus that took us to Marble Arch from where we caught another bus that went along the lengths of Oxford and Regent Streets. This gave us all a chance to marvel at the holiday lights which everyone says are more spectacular than usual this year. Shoppers still crowded the streets and the stores and since everything is handsomely discounted, hopefully Christmas this year will not be as doleful as the economists predict.

When the bus arrived at Aldwych, we jumped off and walked the short distance along Waterloo Bridge to get to the South Bank where I had heard that a Continental Market was on. However, by the time we arrived there, it was winding down and the stall owners were calling it a day. It was time for us to think about getting home. My guests had arrived from the New Jersey and were starting to feel the difference in time zones get to them.

Back in my flat, Jenny and I sat down to chat for a bit over cups of tea before I made up the sofa bed for them in the living room and we decided to call it a night. It had been a memorable day and I was pleased that I had their company as I covered two more Must-Do items on my holiday list–a London pantomime and the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park.

Now I must turn my own thoughts homewards and start to think of all the things I need to do to get well and truly ready for Christmas in Connecticut.

Looking Back Over Four Months in London

Dec17

Wednesday, December 17, 2008
London

I fell in love with London a long time ago–22 years ago to be precise–and I have never felt any differently. If anything, the past four months have deepened my attachment to this city. It is a funny feeling–to be a Londoner and a visitor at the same time. Despite the fact that I have worked here, the last four month have felt like an endless vacation.

Yet, so much water has flowed under the Thames since Llew and I hauled our eight suitcases out of the cab that balmy summer’s night in August. Even though I have scoured the furthest reaches of this city so thoroughly that I ended up with an inflammation of my plantar fasciia, I still feel as if I have only scratched the surface. Every night before I fall asleep, I think with wonder about all the things I will do the next day. As Robert Frost wrote, I literally feel as if I have miles to go before I sleep!!!

So what have I accomplished in nearly four months? Well, I have taken about 6 self-guided walking tours that introduced me to corners tucked far away from prying eyes and quarters whose cobbled streets are hoary with history. Clubs and pubs, churches and cathedrals, sprawling parks and secret gardens, museums and art galleries, colleges and libraries…I have been there, done that, and felt fiercely fulfilled. I started a systematic study of the collections in the National Gallery and, before my feet gave way, completed my perusal of the Sainsbury Wing. In the British Museum, which I visited often, I saw the remnant highlights of so many ancient cultures. I also ‘did’ the Tate London, the Geffrye Museum and the National Portrait Gallery and will keep the Tate Modern and the Victoria and Albert Museum for next semester.

Professionals entertained and delighted me everywhere I went through theater and opera. In the Globe Theater, I marvelled at the Shakespearean magic of the verse and the virtuosity of the players. I saw celebrity actors whose names have shone often in lights–Dame Aileen Atkins and Ian McDiarmid, Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders and Vanessa Redgrave. Not just were these thespians quite splendid on stage but the venues in which they performed were equally astonishing–from the Vaudeville Theater at the Strand to the historic Drury Lane Theater, each interior was a masterpiece of design and decoration hinting at the fact that, over the centuries, a visit to the theater was a glitzy occasion indeed.

As for cuisine, what a long way London has come. I have tasted Vietnamese pho and Turkish mezes, sampled the variety to be found on a thali and in the sleight of hand of Italian chefs who have a magical way with pasta. The foodie in me was deeply satisfied by the culinary offerings of every curve of the globe. I had thought that being alone in the city, I would probably never eat out at all. How pleasantly surprized I was to receive invitiations from new friends and generous neighbors who took me out to meals that were superlative as well as entertained me in their own domains with their own home-cooked signature dishes–not to mention the friendship provided by my colleague Karen and her husband Douglas, foodies both with a connoissuer’s palate to boot. I have eaten candy from a bygone era with names like honeycomb and eclairs and rum bonbons; as for my inner chocoholic, why, it was more than pleased by truffles flavored with honey and strawberries, lavender and coffee in Hope and Greenwood’s old fashioned shop as much as it was tantalized by the offerings of the more pricey French and Belgain chocolatiers.

Talking about cuisine, marketing has become for me the high point of my week. Never having shopped at street markets previously, I have become addicted to the one on Leather Lane where I buy my stock of Greek dolmas and mozzarella cheese, sun dried tomatoes and pesto. In the Food Halls at Harrods and Fortnum and Mason, I have been seduced by the novelty of steamed puddings with peculiar names: sticky toffee and spotted dick; by jams such as rhubarb and ginger and three fruit marmalade; fruity flapjack biscuits and ginger and orange cookies laced with chocolate have enticed me incessantly and become my ‘tea’ accompaniments; even the crisps have exotic flavorings such as Thai red chilli and roast beef with mustard, barbecued chicken and garlic with lemon grass; I have tasted elderflower wine and lavender honey, little tubs of potted shrimps and smoked salmon pate, artisinal cheeses from every farm in the country and Stiltons studded with apricot and ginger, dried dates and candied oranges. For breakfast, I have eaten sausages with strange names like chipolata and Cumberland and I can never decide which ones are tastier. And then Yuletide brought its own share of irresistible treats: mulled wine and mince pies, I discovered, are every bit as scrumptious as they sound. And when I have felt homesick for a curry, why, the likes of Marks and Spencer, Sainsbury and Tesco have been only to happy to oblige my native tastes with their offerings of Lamb Rogan Josh and Prawn Vindaloo, and Chicken every which way you can imagine–Makhanwalla, Jalfrezi, Korma and Tikka Masala! I am ashamed to say that I have almost stopped cooking, so eager have I been to sample local delicacies…and I have rarely been disappointed.

It is hard for me to believe that only a few miles within Greater London lie quaint villages that border the placid Thames, each characterized by snooty estates and picturesque ponds with trailing willows and hungry mallards. At Old Isleworth, I visited magnificent Syon House and Park. I gazed upon gold-fringed trees at Richmond Hill and enjoyed the view that Mick Jagger gazes on daily from his own bedroom window; while at Richmond Park I looked upon huge herds of deer roaming freely in the watery autumn sunshine. At Barnes, I crossed the sprawling haunted ‘Commons’ that gave me the creeps.

The second best part of being in London was discovering the bus system and the wallet-friendly Monthly Pass that took me to parts of the city that I never knew existed. I had always love the Tube but I have now developed an affection for those lumbering red double deckers as well. I went to Ealing and Greenford, Harrow and Acton, Shoreditch and Stratford and even to Essex in the course of my research–parts of the city that were distant yet cost me mere pennies per mile covered.

The best part of being in London, however, has been the new friends I have made who reached out their hands so warmly in friendship. For a country whose people (at least in the States) have a reputation for reserve that has been politely referred to as European sang-froid, I have found the English deeply welcoming and genuinely eager to share their homes and their hearts with me. My next-door neighbors, Tim and Barbara have been an incredible blessing as has Milan who lives down the hall. Janie Yang who introduced me to her artsy friends has always been there for me. Cynthia and Bishop Michael Colclough showed concern when I was laid up at home and then provided me with a stack of tickets to so many marvelous cultural evenings at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Chriselle’s colleague Ivana has been a fun conpanion on walks in Chelsea and Battersea. I find it impossible to believe that four months ago I did not know any of these folks at all. As for living alone in the city (a prospect that offered its own load of concerns), I need never have worried. Between my concierge Arben and our janitor Martha, I am waited on hand and foot and I feel throughly pampered by their care and attention.

Like Bill Bryson and Susan Allen Toth and other travel writers who fell under the spell of the city, I too am quite besotted by London and I can’t wait to resume my rambles come the new year.

More Of the BL’s Treasures and Christmas Shopping on the High Street

Dec17

Wednesday, December 17, 2008
London

With most of my packing done, my laundry all folded away and placed in my suitcase, I put together the documents I needed for the Membership Renewal and set out for the British Library. It was such a gorgeous day…yes, I did actually say that! A gorgeous day in London in the winter is as rare as rare can be, so I was determined to enjoy it to the fullest! I didn’t have to wait too long before my documents were scrutinized, passed muster, an ID photograph clicked and my new 3-year Readers Card placed in my hand.

I set off straight away to the Riblat Gallery to see the rest of the Treasures of the British Museum (half of which I saw yesterday) and spent about an hour scrutinizing the cases devoted entirely to spiritual and religious manuscripts. Every religion was represented from Sikhism to Shinto. I saw ancient Bibles, including the Guttenberg Bible and Gospels, including the Lindisfarne Gospel. There were Persian illuminated manuscripts, Moghul ones, Maratha and Deccan ones, Sanskrit ones, Hindu and Jain texts–some in the shape of tortoises and cows. All of it was deeply fascinating. There was also a whole room devoted to the Magna Carta and I’d like to go back again, sometime in January perhaps, to study that carefully.

But retail therapy beckoned and since I haven’t shopped on the High Street at all since I first arrived here, and with so many gifts still to be purchased, I decided to hit Oxford Street and join the throng of Christmas buyers. I did find some very stylish things indeed for Chriselle and something that I hope Llew will like and then for me…though I did not intend to buy myself anything, it was just irresistible. In the HMV store, where I stopped to buy some audio visual material as gifts, I spied the entire Inspector Morse Collection, yes all 33 episodes of the series at less than 1/3 the price. The Complete Works normally cost 200 pounds and I was certainly not willing to pay that. But when I saw that it was specially priced, for a limited time only, at 65 pounds, well I have to say I succumbed and snatched it up.

My museum jaunt and my shopping spree tired me out and so I stepped into John Lewis (where the Christmas decorations are spectacular) and in the Coffee Shop, I ordered a pot of Fresh and Fruity Herbal tea which I sipped slowly with honey at a window seat while overlooking a lovely garden that stands behind Oxford Street. The skies were a clear beautiful blue and I had to pinch myself to believe that I was actually gazing out of a London window on a wintry day at such an uplifting sight. When I had quite lifted my spirits, I stepped out again and took the bus back home.

Some more packing was accomplished as I had to fit in the luxury Christmas crackers I bought to take home to Southport for our Christmas table. Then, when I was fairly sure that the 50th Golden Jubilee Commemorative tea set that I found for 10 pounds in a charity shop in Scotland was well wrapped and reasonably secure in my suitcase, I sat down to watch Reservation Road which Love Film.com has mailed me despite the fact that I have suspended my account for the month that I will be traveling.

And, I could not have watched a more appropriate film. I mean two days before I am back in picture-perfect Southport, I watched a movie that was set on the Connecticut coast. It prepared me for home and made me realize how much I’ve missed it. Last summer, when my neighbor Trish Donovan and I were on one of our daily morning constitutionals in Southport village, the entire Trinity Churchyard had been closed to the public as a film unit was in town shooting at various locations around the harbor. Trish had informed me that the name of the movie was Reservation Road and I had vowed to see it at that time.

The plot kept me spell bound. It is based around a hit and run accident that take places one dark night. A little boy is killed in a flash and the driver, who hesitates for just a little while, meaning to stop, then thinks better of it, drives away. The driver happens to be Dwight, a lawyer (played by Mark Ruffalo) who ends up taking on the case when the father of little Josh (played by Joaquin Phoenix) goes out to seek justice. As in almost all the movies I’ve seen and stories I’ve read about couples who attempt to resolve loss after the death of a child, the marriage goes through a dark patch as the father becomes obsessed with finding his son’s killer. With some superb acting and direction, the movie pulls at the viewer’s heart strings. You want justice for Josh’s parents but because you know that Dwight is not a bad guy and is dealing with his own set of emotional issues (a messy divorce and the shared custody of his son), you don’t want him to get caught either. It is certainly a movie worth seeing and one that I think I can include in my course on Grief-Management in Cross-Cultural Fiction. Be prepared to be reminded of another movie with the same theme also set on the North Atlantic coastline–In The Bedroom, which was based on the short story ‘The Killing’ by Andre Dubus III which is set in Maine and was shot in Camden.

Connecticut formed the perfect backdrop for the film. Not only is it cinematically spectacular, but the quiet suburban lifestyle is shattered by the turmoil created by this tragedy which succeeds in destroying so many lives. I can’t wait to tell Trish that I have seen the film, though I am sure she would have seen it herself by now.

And now with only two days to go before I arrive in Southport, I am looking forward tomorrow to the arrival of my friend Jenny-Lou and her daughter Kristen from New Jersey. We have tickets for a Christmas ‘panto’ (short for ‘pantomime’) in Richmond–Peter Pan, with Simon Callow (one of the country’s best-known actors playing Captain Hook). It should be a really good second last day of the year in the UK.

Harry Potter’s Platform 9 3/4, Treasures of the British Library and Holiday Concert at St. Paul’s

Dec16

December 16, 2008
Tuesday

Antony Andrews is still as gorgeous as ever. Ask me how I know that Lord Sebastian Flyte in Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited is still as cute as a button and I’ll tell you that I had the good fortune of seeing him today at a star-studded gala Holiday Concert at St. Paul’s Cathedral in aid of the Cancer Research Fund. I was a guest of Bishop Michael and Cynthia Colclough and in the line-up of celebrity readers were Dame Aileen Atkins whom I saw recently at the West End in The Female of the Species and John Sargent whom the entire UK is buzzing about after his success in Strictly Come Dancing. Apart from Atkins and Andrews, however, I have to admit that I did not recognize the names of any of the other local celebrities.

This evening crowned for me the series of fabulous Advent and pre-Christmas events in the Cathedral that have truly put me in the festive spirit and allowed me to meet so many interesting folks–all guests of the Colcloughs. Tonight was extra-special because in the audience was Princess Alexandra, the Hon. Lady Ogilvy, a cousin-in-law of the Queen and a patron of the Cancer Research Foundation who swished out of the cathedral just a few feet in front of me in a resplendent gold brocade coat and fabulous glittering necklace. There was also Connie Fisher who is currently playing Maria in the London stage version of The Sound of Music and Rupert Penry Jones who read Sir John Betjeman’s poem Advent 1955. The best readings were by Atkins who did a hysterically funny version of Shirley Valentine by Willy Russel and Andrews’ extraordinarily moving reading of Captain R.J. Armes’ account of an encounter between British and German forces at the trenches during World War I in a piece entitled Christmas Truce. Punctuated by carols performed by the Vicars’ and Boys’ choirs and a number of sing-a-long songs in which the audience joined, the evening made for a fine concert indeed.

Outside on the steps of St. Paul’s, you’ d think you’d regressed to the Victorian Age for suddenly a number of characters stood before us–each seemingly had walked out from a different page of Dickens’ novels. A Beadle grandly announced the distribution of mince pies to all who cared for one. More Victorian characters on stilts entertained the crowd as they dribbled out of the cathedral, a Victorian policeman did the rounds on his Penny Farthing bicycle while blowing frantically on his antiquated whistle and Victorian vendors bearing large trays of mince pies and baskets full of chocolates distributed them around generously acquiring more supplies from a Victorian fruit cart that was parked nearby. It was all thoroughly jolly indeed and did actually make me feel as if Christmas is around the corner–which, of course it is! In keeping with the coming holiday, I made my way to the side of the Cathedral and the pathway that leads to what my neighbor Barbara calls the “Wobbly Bridge” (it’s actually the Millennium Bridge that began to wobble dangerously the day it was inaugurated!). There I took pictures in front of a towering tree strung over with aquamarine lights.

This event brought the curtain down on an eventful and busy day. After I drafted our Almeida Family Christmas 2008 letter while it was still dark outside my window, I took the bus to King’s Cross Station with the objective of seeking out Platform 9 3/4 which features in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books. This is the station from which Harry and his classmates board the train that takes them to Hogwart’s School for Wizards. Though I have read only the first book and seen the first movie in the series–Harry Potter and the Scorcerer’s Stone–my students are passionate devotees of the series and it was at their behest that I went pottering about King’s Cross Station as so many fans have done before me. In fact, now that my students have enthused me, I have decided to spend the next semester reading the rest of the series. Because so many readers have poured into the station looking for this platform, the City authorities decided to create one. I followed signs to Platforms 9, 10, and 11 and lo and behold! There was Platform 9 3/4 and a luggage cart that was in the very process of disappearing into the wall–in exactly the same way that Harry Potter and his friends find their way to the train. Of course, I had to take a picture pushing the luggage cart at this charming site. Only in London, kids, only in London…

Next, I walked along the fabulous red exterior of Sir John Betjeman’s beloved St. Pancras Station (now almost covered with scaffolding as construction to refurbish it into a five star hotel continues). It was my intention to get to the British Library to renew my Reader’s ID Card which recently expired. I had thought that producing the expired card would do the trick, but it turns out that I have to produce documents all over again proving my place of residence. Oh well, I guess I will just have to go back there tomorrow. It’s a good thing the British Library is so easy to get to on the bus.

Being at the British Library, I decided to do something I have been wanting to do for a long while–pour over the special manuscripts contained in the exhibition Ritblat Gallery under the rubric “Treasures of the British Library”. I had last perused these treasures 22 years ago when they were located in the British Museum–in the marvelous domed Reading Room in which Karl Marx scribbled his Das Kapital! In these new premises at King’s Cross, the manuscripts are exhibited in extremely dim cases in order to prevent the ink from fading completely by exposure to light. I spent an hour and a half looking at old maps drawn by cartographers in the 1300s, an excellent Shakespeare section which contained his First Folio of 1623 and a number of works by his contemporaries. There was even a leaf from a play that was jointly authored by a number of Elizabethan playwrights that is actually believed to be in Shakespeare’s own handwriting! How cool is that!!!

In the Music section, I was delighted to see scraps of original paper on which The Beatles scribbled so many of the lyrics of their most famous songs. One of them was by John Lennon who actually used the back of his son Julian’s 1st birthday card! The best part of all is that accompanying the cases which contain the manuscripts are audio extracts from musical compositions, recitations of poetry, etc. I was actually able to listen to several Beatles’ songs and then poetry as read by the poets themselves! It was quite engaging to listen to W.B. Yeats read his own poem ‘The Lake Isle of Innisfree’ in his thick Irish brogue just as Seamus Heany read from his poem ‘Mint’ and James Joyce read an extract from his own Finnegan’s Wake. All of these writers had distinctly Irish accents which is natural, I suppose, since they were born and raised in Ireland. I heard Virginia Woolf’s voice as well in an extract from a BBC radio conversation. It was these bits that I found most fascinating.

Of course, in the literary section there were also original manuscripts of such classics as Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland, Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles (I had seen the manuscript of his Jude the Obscure at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge last month), Emily Bronte’s Jane Eyre and early stories that Jane Austen had penned as a child to entertain her family. There was also Joseph Conrad’s Lord Jim written in his own handwriting (and bearing evidence of multiple attempts at revision) as well as letters from Rupert Brooke to a woman whom very few scholars knew about until recently. An hour and a half later, I had only seen half the collection and decided that I would return tomorrow as I have to go to the Reader Registration Desk again anyway. I really did want to finish perusing these manuscripts before I left for the States and I am glad I managed to squeeze it in.

Then, I went to NYU to print out some interviews (the Internet was SOOOOOO sluggish and SOOOOOO maddening this morning ) and then I was out of there and walking towards the Waitrose at Brunswick Center to buy a few food items for my Mum in Bombay. Then, off to Tesco’s to buy Llew some of the luxury Muesli he likes–only I found that the Holborn Viaduct branch does not carry it which meant I had to ride the bus to Bank Underground Station where I found it.

With only a couple of days to go before I leave for the States, I am shopping frantically and trying to organize my packing. I have to pack one suitcase to carry to the States and leave one packed suitcase here in my flat. After spending Christmas with my family in Southport, Connecticut, I will board a flight from JFK on the morning of December 26, arrive at Heathrow that evening, spent one night in my London flat before I leave for Heathrow again the next morning, December 27, to board another flight to Bombay. The packed suitcase will then go with me to Bombay. Complicated enough for you????

The last two days have been spent running last-minute errands, transcribing taped interviews and printing them out, filling in grade sheets and handing them in, making phone calls and sending out email messages in order to set in place appointments with my Anglo-Indian subjects for the end of January and the beginning of February. I am proud to say that in the process of two months, despite being afflicted with plantar fasciitis, I managed to do 15 interviews with people who were based in the far-flung reaches of London. It is my hope to do several more in the early months of the new year. In the evenings, I’ve been trying to get some packing done.

Last night, I watched Greyfriar’s Bobby, a poignant movie about a little Skye Terrier that mourned for 14 years on the grave of his master after he died in the late 1800s. The city of Edinburgh made the dog an honorary Friend of the City and gave him free run of the streets. There is a statue of the dog that came to be known as ‘Greyfriar’s Bobby’ (as it lay on his master’s grave in Greyfriar’s cemetery) in Edinburgh today to honor the values of loyalty and faithfulness. My friend Delyse Fernandez had told me about this movie a couple of years ago and I was able to order it on Love Film. Com.

As my first semester comes to a close and I pull my suitcases shut, I cannot help but think what an eventful four months these have been and how dearly I have come to adore this city and how intimately I have grown to know it . I can sincerely say that I have taken fullest advantage of the many benefits that this posting has afforded me. It truly feels as if I have been on vacation for the past eight months and as I start to think of the arrival of my friend Jenny-Lou Seqeuira on Thursday, I know I have one last leg of my Fall semester here in London to anticipate with pleasure.

Christmas Past and Present at the Geffrye Museum

Dec13

Saturday, December 13, 2008
London

Even at the end of a dreadful day–weather-wise–I am still asking myself this question: How come I had never heard of the Geffrye Museum until a month ago?” For someone who has always loved English Country Style and has decorated her home in that aesthetic, I cannot believe that I had never been to this amazing place before. It was only quite by chance, while surfing the web to find Christmas-related London activities, that I discovered the existence of a place called the Geffrye Museum that is devoted to English Interiors Through the Ages. At Christmas, they decorate each of their rooms in a manner that is historically appropriate. I have been telling myself for days that I must not miss this–I simply cannot return home to the States next week without seeing this once-in-a-year exhibit.

So, despite the fact that the weather made me want to curl up and stay in bed (it poured ALL day), I decided to set out. I went first to the Holborn Library to return my books on Ireland, then on to 48 Doughty Street to the home of Charles Dickens as I wanted to pick up a Christmas present for a Victorianist friend of mine from the gift shop there. In and out, it took me less than five minutes in each place to run these errands

Then, I hopped on the bus to go outdoors to stay indoors–because, once you enter the Museum, you are taken right into the intimate space of people’s homes and the lives they lived in those spaces. It was a great way to escape the rain and still do something worthwhile as well as seasonal. Bus 242 from right outside my building took me straight to Shoreditch in East London where the museum is located and in less than 20 minutes, I was there.

First of all, a word about the building itself which is a quite magnificent 18th century structure, now Grade I listed (i.e. protected as a historical site). It is a long brown brick building, three sided (built like the letter E without the middle prong) enclosing expansive grounds with lovely trees (which, undoubtedly, would give the place a completely different ambiance in the summer). Right in the center of the building is a sculpture of Robert Geffrye after whom the museum is named. He was elected Lord Mayor of London in 1685 where he became an eminent East India merchant. As Master of the Worshipful Company of Ironmongers, he constructed this building to house the widows of the ironmongers among whom he worked. Hence, these came to be known as the Ironmongers Almshouses. Though each widow was initially meant to have a single unit (or house) in the building, demand grew so quickly that several shared spaces and at the height of its popularity about 150 people (men were included later) lived in 14 houses. There is a tiny chapel in the center of the building and the attendance at services was mandatory. Behind the building is more land, today used for the design and creation of period gardens, each one reflecting the style of the room that precedes it. For someone like me, who loves interior decor and gardening, this place was Paradise and I spent far more time in the museum than I had intended.

I was also surprised to see how many people had braved the pouring rain to visit the museum, many with kids and some with babies in strollers. As you proceed through the building, you come upon vignettes–each reflecting a middle class living room–through the ages. The English middle class (or middling class, as it was first known, when the word came into use) were neither the aristocracy (the landed gentry) nor the working class (what, in America, we would call blue collar workers). They were the professionals (what, in America, we would call white collar workers) who practiced professions such as law and medicine, banking and religion (as clergymen or ministers). They did not live merely in imitation of the more privileged aristocracy but developed their own values, customs and traditions and contributed hugely to the economic success of England through the ages. The Geffrye provides a peep into the way they lived through what we would call living rooms, but they called Great Rooms, Halls and Parlors through the years. As I walked through the museum, I learned about the earliest timber frame houses (that stood in London before the Great Fire of 1666) to the creation of the terraced houses (that we now call “Georgian’), to the arrival of the loft-style home so favored by contemporary Londoners. It was simply fascinating and I enjoyed every second there.

The exhibit began with the year 1630, the Great Hall in a Tudor home. The Christmas decoration here was subdued–just a few bay leaves strung together to form a vine that was thrown over the inglenook fireplace and a kissing ball that hung from the center of the room–(a very early cousin of today’s mistletoe). Then, on to the Parlor of the 17th century where the interiors became more elaborate–more furniture, more accessories, curtains, carpets. Christmas decoration too became more pronounced as time passed by.

They exhibit presented extracts from the diairies of people who lived in those epochs detailing the manner in which they would spend the days before and after Christmas as well as the day itself. There was card playing and visits to the theater, the cooking of all manner of things, the entertainment of guests who were served “two jellies and a glass of wine”, for instance, a goose to be stuffed and cooked, cards to be written and sent early (early for the Victorians meant December 24!) and all sorts of interesting and humorous facts that kept me spellbound.

When we came to the high Victorian Age, we could see the excess in interior decoration, the fussiness of grand curtains and lush carpets and the loads of dark furniture. Then, of course, came the Arts and Crafts Movement, the reaction against Victorian excess, that promulgated clean crisp straight lines that ended with Art Nouveau and Art Decor Movements of the late 19th and early 20th century. It was also a wonderful refresher crash course in English history as seen through furniture and domestic accoutrements from rush matting to shield-back chairs, from the arrival of tea and the customs that evolved around tea-taking to the arrival of the Christmas tree, a tradition that came to England through Queen Charlotte (wife of George III) from her native Germany though it was popularized by Albert in the Victorian era when every home followed suit and brought a fresh-cut tree indoors and decorated it.

The cafe divides the space rather effectively and takes the viewer into the 20th century where more vignettes captured homes from the Edwardian Age to the present. This was a fun portion of the museum as I began to recognize Christmas decorations and baubles that I still see in my parents’ home in Bombay! Chinese lanterns and buntings that were so popular in the 50s gave way to the minimalist design of the current loft apartment with its open floor plan s and its high tech stainless steel appliances featuring spaces for DINKYs (Double Income No Kids Yet)–couples who set up home and postpone kids!

It was all so beautifully integrated–the spaces, the Christmas decor, the interior design, the history and the lifestyle that for anyone interested even remotely in Design and Decor, Sociology, History or even Urban Planning, this is truly the place to go! Needless to say, I intend to visit again in the summer when the gardens will be lush and compelling and when I will learn about the history of landscape design and gardening in this country. The shop in which I browsed briefly also contained items I have never seen anywhere else–lovely old-fashioned wooden toys and building blocks, antique cards, gift wrapping paper in incredibly rare patterns, reprints of old books (100 Things that Every Boy Should Know) and all manner of charming things that take one back in time to an era when life was simpler and far less frantic. And the icing on the cake is that, like most of the best museums in London, this one too is entirely free!

I took the bus back home and had myself some lunch with a few bits and bobs that I could find in my fridge (I am trying to finish things in my fridge before I leave next week), then rested briefly before I got ready for my ride to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Michael and Cynthia had invited me to A Celebration of Carols by Benjamin Britten. I arrived at their place at Amen Court only to find it filled with folks comprising three generations–there were grandparents and their grandkids and parents in-between! There were kids who spoke English with a French accent and South Asian kids who spoke with an English accent! It was amazing! It turned out to be one large family, the family of the current Bishop of Kensington who was simply introduced to me as George. He turned out to be a delightfully friendly man who was born and raised in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and graduated from Queens University. He lived right across the street in the very place that is today occupied by the University’s bookstore. When I told him that I visited the book store and browsed through its collection, he was thrilled! Then, the boyfriend Paul Lisboa, of his daughter Gael, turned out to know some friends of mine in Bombay–the family of Winnin Pereira who lives in Bandra and whose daughters Aruna and Vinita are friends of mine!!! It was all rather odd indeed but very merry and we had a good time over lovely mint tea and cake before we all trooped off to the Cathedral to hear the Choristers and Vicars of St. Paul’s treat us to a magnificent display of their musical talents. A harpist named Sioned Williams playing plaintively while the boys enchanted us by their voices. Conducted by Andrew Carwood, the program was built around 12 medieval carols (now long forgotten) that Britten set to his wonderful music and, in a sense, revived for our generation. It was wonderfully arranged and superbly performed and I enjoyed every bit of it.

Then, since it was still only 6 pm when we emerged from the cathedral, I decided to take a bus down to Trafalgar Street to see the Christmas Tree there and listen to the carollers because the web had also informed me that there are carollers each evening on the Square. How delighted I was when I actually was able to enter one of those old historic Routemaster buses–Number 15. These are the buses that have been preserved by public demand and are still plying on the streets after they debuted in 1954! They are older than me, I thought, as I scrambled up the stairs at the back to the approving nod of the conductor (yes, each bus still has an accompanying conductor just like the red double deckers in South Bombay) and found a seat at the very front. I took many pictures of the bus and the conductor (much to his delight), then got off at Trafalgar Square.

I was very disappointed indeed by what I saw there. I had imagined a tree on the lines of New York’s Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, all emblazoned with thousands of twinkling lights. Though the tree is towering (an annual gift from the people of Norway to the UK in recognition of help granted them during the war), there were a few paltry strings of lights on it that looked as if they had just been thrown on sloppily. A few carollers stood in the rain, their umbrellas held up high, singing carols as if they had never sung a note in their lives. They were members of the Epilepsy Foundation and their members walked around with boxes collecting money for their cause. The singing was just pathetic. The guy who was conducting the singing did not even stand at the mike when singing. We could barely hear them. Though the onlookers were also invited to join in, their voices were even sadder than those on the stage. The whole thing was just such a let down after the splendour of the performance I had just heard at St. Paul’s that I left as quickly as I could and decided to get home and get some work done.

I was caught in the worst traffic jam you can ever imagine as one of those abominable Bendy buses seemed to have broken down in the middle of Charing Cross Road just as it was making a turn from one street into the main road. This blocked up the entire road. All traffic came to a grinding standstill and a cacophony of impatient horns started as motorists blew off steam in protest! It was madness! After I sat there in the bus talking on my cell phone to Chrissie, for about 20 minutes, the driver opened the doors to let people out and I jumped off and started to walk to New Oxford Street from where I hopped into another bus and got home. What an evening!

I stayed up until after midnight transcribing two interviews I had done several weeks ago as I am determined to finish all pending work assignments before I leave for my month of family fun and revelry in the States and India. I had a very late dinner (more bits and bobs from the fridge), hit my bed and was asleep in less than five minutes!

The End is in Sight…and a Holiday Farewell Party!

Dec12

Friday, December 12, 2008
London

Just realized that I have about five days before my guest Jenny-Lou Seqeuira arrives with her daughter Kristen from New Jersey to spend a few days with me. Yikkesss!!! I have Christmas shopping to do and packing and sorting…but all that only after I finish grading final exams and term papers and hand them in. I also have a few Christmas activities I’d like to cover in London before I leave for the States on December 19.

So with little time to spare, I spent most of the morning grading papers. When I became goggle eyed and couldn’t absorb another word, I sat down to pack gifts for the administrative staff at NYU-London. These are gold-plated ornaments for the Christmas tree that I had bought at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York especially for my London support staff, who, I felt, would appreciate a small memento of the Big Apple from their New York colleague. I wrote them little Thank-you notes, packed the little parcels in tissue paper and the Met gift bags that I had also carried with me.

Then, I went back to grading and finished the lot that I had carried home last night. At 1.30pm, I set out for campus to attend the Holiday Farewell party for our sophomores who have completed their semester here in London and are returning to New York tomorrow. It was a chance for me to wish them well, hand over my gifts, take a few pictures and circulate. Not too many students turned up as most of them were shopping and packing and frantically getting ready to depart.

Hagai Segal was presented his Teacher of the Year Award. I was surprised to discover that he will be in Bombay over our winter break as he’s been invited to give a series of talks on anti-terrorism in Calcutta, Delhi and Bombay. We’ve made plans to hook up for a drink in Bombay as I will there at the same time. He has asked me for a walking tour of the city and I have promised. But given then I have four family weddings, it’s possible that I was a little too rash in obliging.

Fruity mulled wine made the rounds as did mince pies. There was festive music and a table full of ‘London’ gifts that could be yours if you picked a number from a bin that corresponded with one on the gift itself. Crest’s of London made a killing from the abundant gifts that Alice found with a London theme–I was particularly eyeing a brolly with the London Tube map emblazoned on it, but then I saw boxer shorts with the same pattern and didn’t think the brolly was any good! There were teas and Bobby helmets and beefeater teddy bears and Union Jack ceramic mugs and a whole lot of other items that would make fitting souvenirs of their Study Abroad semester.

When I had circulated enough, I settled down in my office and started grading the final essays on the Future of Anglo-Indians submitted by the students who took my Sophomore Seminar. Darkness fell while I was at it and I realized, before long, that it had taken me more than two hours to finish the stack as well as organize my files for next semester.

I took the bus home and spent a while preparing web pages on my travels in Northern Ireland. Then, when my neck began to ache, I decided to fix myself some dinner–quiche and pita with an assortment of dips left over from the party yesterday with Greek yogurt with walnuts for dessert. As I ate, I watched Sliding Doors, a film set in London starring Gwyneth Paltrow and John Hannah and for the life of me, I just didn’t get it. There were two parallel stories enfolding, each involving the same set of characters. It’s the sort of modernist film structured in the vein of Pulp Fiction that is much too cerebral for my liking. I have never felt that Paltrow does a convincing English accent and I never understand why she is cast in these roles when there are a slew of really great English actresses who could so easily play these roles. Anyway, it felt strange to see the London that exists right outside my window depicted on screen. Most times when I watch movies about London, it is a city that is somewhere far away, way across that great big pond.

I was falling asleep by the time the movie ended and I tumbled hastily into bed because for some reason I felt drowsy. I guess this means that I am running out of nervous energy for the semester has come to an end and I am in Wind Down Mode as I start to think about returning home to Connecticut.

Final Exam, Insider’s View of the British Museum and Hosting my First Party

Dec11

Thursday, December 11, 2008
London

The last meeting of my class on Anglo-India took place today as I gave my final exam. My students have clearly reached the end of their tether and despite the fact that they have enjoyed London, they are now ready to board that flight homeward. They could not wait to get out of class and start to celebrate the end of the semester.

I had little time to waste. Right after the exam, I had made plans to meet Paul Collins, a scholar on the Middle East who works at the British Museum. I had been given his number by my friend and fellow docent Elizabeth Kaplan from the Metropolitan Museum in New York. “Call Paul”. she had said, “and he will give you an Insider’s Tour of the Ancient Near Eastern galleries”.

Paul was very obliging indeed and at noon, we met at the Main Information Desk. Paul explained that the Ancient Near Eastern and Islamic Galleries in the British Museum were recently combined to form the Middle Eastern Department which is where he is now based. In his company, I made my way first to the Karyatid from the Erechtheion, one of the buildings on the Acropolis. During my travels in Northern Ireland, I had been reading The Parthenon by Mary Beard, a paperback lent to me by my colleague Karen who recommended it warmly as a very good read. I had enjoyed it immensely and was keen to see the Karyatid, one of the sculptures of the graceful women that adorn the building that stands next to the Parthenon. It turns out that it is hidden far from view behind a temple of the Nereid’s in the Parthenon Section of the Museum. And how beautiful she is! How graceful! How delighted I was to be able to set eyes on her. I had been on a quest to find her from the time Llew and I left Athens and here she was!

Then, Paul took me into the Ancient Near Eastern section where the treasures from the palace at Nimrud in modern-day Iraq have been mounted on the walls. These exquisite bas reliefs show detailed life in the days of ancient Iraq when religion was polytheistic and the king was feted by the gods. Other panels presented life in the time of ancient Assyria. Here were scenes of bloody warfare and of startling brutality as the king went lion hunting with a variety of weapons and was always victorious over the beasts. Paul pointed out to me specific panels in which the features of the king and queen were deliberately defaced by successive victors who usurped the throne and wished to obliterate any vestiges of the presence of the king. It reminded me, and I pointed this out to Paul, of the American soldiers who toppled the statue of Sadam Hussein when they arrived as invaders and took over Baghdad. It seems that some aspects of history do not change, no matter how many centuries might elapse from one regime to the next. Paul also took me to the basement where he commented on panels that are now closed to the public as access is not so easy to large crowds.

The best part of the tour was the visit to the Study Room where Paul spends a great deal of his day. In this room which was once a stack in the British Library (which moved in 1998 to new premises at King’s Cross), thousands of slabs of cuneiform script have been preserved–and I mean thousands–for they number more than 34,000. These detailed ‘forms’ or ‘documents’ if you like, give scholars all manner of information about life in those days for the ancient Babylonians and Assyrians were compulsive record keepers and reams of text accompany the sculpture and visuals they created. I saw several scholars bent over these tiny bits of stone that are covered with text and Paul fascinated me by actually reading some of them. It was quite amazing indeed!

Then, after I ate my quiche and yogurt at the cafe, I took a bus to the Tesco at Covent Garden in order to buy paper products for the party I am throwing in the evening for the students in my Anglo-Indian course. I needed plates, glasses, napkins and cutlery and with those items purchased, I made my way on the bus back home. I had plenty of time to set up for the party as well as to clean and tidy my flat before the first guests arrived on the dot of five bringing an appetiser or a dessert each.

As I welcomed them in, I gave each one a Christmas cracker–another British tradition of which they were unaware. So many of them said, “Oh, I’ve been seeing these in the stores and wondering what they were!” I told them that they had to wear the hats that they found in the cracker throughout the party–these were colorful crepe paper crowns–one of which particularly suited a student named Arthur whom I then promptly christened King Arthur! We took a load of pictures and reminisced about London and the past semester. Many of them felt regretful about returning to the States as they have not completed all the travel they had intended to accomplish. (“I didn’t manage to get to Paris”, said one of them; “I just have to go to Windsor tomorrow”, said another).

I had provided Buck’s Fizz, a mocktail made with orange juice and sparkling wine and a fruit cake as they had never eaten one before. It happened to be the 20th birthday of my student, Tara Dougherty, so we asked her to cut the cake and as we sang for her, the fruit cake did the rounds. There were dips and chips, cheese and crackers, a variety of Indian snacks that I provided (samosas, onion bhajis and potato tikkis), and all sorts of nibbles. Most of the students brought a bottle of wine each. Others brought desserts–lava cakes, chocolate pudding, chocolate truffles. It was an eclectic spread and one we all enjoyed. A few of the late comers came in bearing a large platter of fried rice, home cooked and very delicious. As the champagne made the rounds, we drank to the end of another semester, a great stay in London and a safe return home.
I spent an hour after the last guest left at 8. 30pm cleaning and tidying my flat and washing up and putting away a load of leftover food that I have frozen. None of the students wanted to take any food away with them as they are all leaving tomorrow to return to the States. It had been a lovely evening and I am sorry to see them go as they were a memorable class and one to which I had grown close.

But, I guess, all good things must come to an end and as I grade the last batch of examination booklets, I am thinking of returning home to the States myself, quite unable to believe that one semester has already flown and that I have only one more to go here in London!

Belfast’s Queen’s University–and Homeward Bound

Dec10

Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Belfast-London

On another bleak morning, I awoke to potter around my backpack, shower, dress and check out of the Youth Hostel where I had spent four rather interesting and very comfortable nights. If you do not mind your bed sailing each time the occupant of the upper bunk moves, if you can deal with the occasional outbreak of snores, if you do not object to late-night chatter, you will find no better value than that offered by Hosteling International. I feel as if I have come upon the girl I used to be, 25 years younger, reclaiming my grad student days when I backpacked all over Europe and used Youth Hostels for affordable housing as I scoured the Continent.

I ordered a waffle for breakfast–large, warm, sprinkled with powdered sugar and drizzled (make that bathed) with chocolate sauce. It was so yummy to look but so disappointing. It was studded with tiny black bits of plastic and I can only conclude that they were pieces of the non-stick coating on the waffle pan that had detached themselves as the waffle was baking and had stuck to the dough and baked right into it. Yuck!!! There went my breakfast!

In the aftermath of a shower and under an overcast sky, I set out to explore Queens Quarter, that part of the city of Belfast that is dominated by the red-brick Tudor structure (reminiscent of Magdalen College, Oxford) of Queens University whose most famous alumnus is Seamus Heany, the Literature Nobel Laureate. Charles Langford who designed the university building used, as his model, the great medieval colleges of Europe and created a site for learning based on the cloisters situated around a quadrangle. Needless to say, a library and a dining hall would be part of the design.

It is lovely to visit educational institutions when they are still in session. The place buzzes with intellectual energy as students mill around–backpacks thrown carelessly across their backs, books in hand–making their way from one class to the next, one lecture hall to the other. I joined the throngs and arrived at the Black and White Hall with its dominant sculpture of Galileo by Pio Fredi. In the quadrangle a large canopied tent was being cleared and dismantled–remnants of a formal party held last night perhaps. I wandered into the Great Hall whose walls were covered with oil-painted portraits of the many eminent men and women who have called the university their alma mater. There was a High Table and a stone fireplace right behind it and a rather eye catching ceiling but it had none of the aura of the medieval halls of Oxford or Cambridge–perhaps because it lacked their venerable age. On exploring the library, I found that I had strayed into a ‘Coffee Morning’ at which several faculty and administrative staff had gathered for a mid-morning chinwag. There were mince pies and shortbread and coffee at hand and people were nibbling while purchasing tickets for a dozen food hampers that would be raffled later that day. English hampers come into their own twice a year–at summer picnics and at Christmas when they are filled with the most exotic eats like cornichons and candied stem ginger.

Across the street, I visited the book store and spent an idle quarter hour browsing through its offerings. I almost bought a signed copy of an autobiography by Cheri Blair for Llew but thought better of it. I was certain it would be badly misshapen by the time it made its way home in my backpack and I know how anal Llew is about the condition of a book–it must remain pristine if he is to value it! So there went that idea!

Then, I was back at the Hostel, retrieving my backpack from storage, taking the Bus 600 to George Best Airport (the only airport in which Ryanair lands that is within the very heart of the city as opposed to the other airports that are always several godforsaken miles away). I was there in 15 minutes, and with my boarding pass and security formalities all done (after the ordeal I went through at Stanstead airport, I was taking no chances with time), I had loads of it to kill in an airport that was singularly lacking in enticements such as duty-free shopping–but then I wasn’t really leaving the country, so I could not expect to travel duty-free. It just felt as if I had visited another country because I had crossed the Sea!!!

On the flight, once I had settled down again in the bulk head seat, who should I see climbing up the stairs but Marina! Of course, she sat right by me and we kept each other company throughout. I was delighted to fly right over the Isle of Man and then to see Liverpool clearly reveal itself itself below me, the Mersey snaking its sluggish way, a hefty river indeed, and the Three Graces standing solidly on its banks. I still thrill to the view of the world from so many thousands of feet above sea level–it is about as unique a perspective on our world as one could ever have!

We reached before schedule, much to Ryanair’s pride, and I caught the early Easybus back home to Baker Street. Nothing much to report expect that I had dozens of email messages to trawl through and a camera full of 120 pictures to download before I was able to unwind and call it a night after eating a sandwich and a mince pie and washing it all down with cider.

Tomorrow I give a final exam and have a stack of papers to grade before I can focus on my next trip–home to Southport and the ones I most love!