Archive | February 2009

British Library, Accommodation Hunting and Another Interview

Feb24

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
London

Through the miracle of modern technology and flawless logistics, my Frank Anthony book was awaiting my arrival at the British Library when I reached there this morning at 10. 30. In the lovely Asia and Africa Reading Room, while being gazed upon by the oil-painted portraits of India’ s erstwhile rajas and maharajas, I devoured the contents of several chapters trying to find clues to justify the Anglo-Indian exodus from India and the reasons why so many of my Anglo-Indians subjects are so staunchly anti-Anthony. I came away with some rather interesting conclusions as I tried to read between the lines. I become conscious of a rumble in my tummy and when I glanced at my watch, you could have struck me down with a feather. It was 1 .30 pm already! No wonder I was starving!

Since I wasn’t too far away from Euston, I decided to go and pay a visit to the Physiotherapy ward at UCL to find out why my referral to the Podiatrist had not yet reached them. At least that was what I discovered before I set out this morning when, in accordance, with the directive of my physiotherapist, Claire Curtin, I had called to ascertain my appointment date for my Orthotics. Well, surprise! UCL hadn’t sent Podiatry a referral at all!!! And here I was waiting patiently, day after day, for the mailman to deliver a letter giving me an appointment. And, another surprise! Claire Curtin was off-duty, so I could not speak with her to find out where the impasse lay. Luckily, the receptionist suggested I talk to a manager, a lovely lady named Nuss Devon, who took me into her office and tried to help me by emailing Claire. I left feeling very disappointed indeed at the way things had turned out.

On the bus, as I made my way to Kilburn, I couldn’t help feeling that I haven’t had the best week. I was headed to Kilburn to meet a man who runs a budget accommodation service as I need to find a place to stay for the months of June and July. The proprietor who runs the hostel was doubtful that it would be the most suitable place for me as his lodgings are used mainly, he said, short term, by backpackers. He offered to show me the place and suggested I book for a week. If I am happy through that week, I can decide to prolong my stay for the rest of the summer, he said. It seemed like a reasonable enough suggestion…so off I went to check it out with, I must admit, a great deal of trepidation. This lovely flat I currently occupy at High Holborn has so spoiled me for anything else that I am actually loath to go and inspect other prospective digs as I know that nothing else will quite measure up.

I was pleased about the location–it is on a quiet residential street about a five minute walk from the Tube station, has free internet facilities, spotless toilets and showers, fully-stocked community kitchens and a separate female dorm that just might work for me. Of course, I would much rather have my own studio or an ensuite room in a house; but given London’s exorbitant rents, I might have to settle for something much less luxurious. Still, having a look at the hostel and knowing that, at a pinch, I can opt for this space means that I will not be homeless come June. This is a big comfort to me and I am determined now not to worry too much though I shall continue to keep looking for something better.

On the bus back, I found out that it takes about 25 minutes to get to Baker Street (not too bad at all). I did not try to make a bus connection, however, preferring to take the the Tube as I had a 4.oo pm appointment at Charing Cross station with another Anglo-Indian, Claire Jansen, who, bless her heart, had agreed to meet me despite the fact that she was feeling decidedly under the weather today.

We decided to find a quiet corner in the National Gallery where Claire generously treated me to a hot chocolate as we seated ourselves down for our chat. Unlike most of the respondents in my survey, Claire is close to my own age. She arrived as an immigrant to the UK rather recently but because she has also lived in Australia and the United States, she was able to make very intelligent comparative statements about the Anglo-Indian lifestyle in these different countries. I found her a pleasure to talk to as she combined humor with her acute insights and candid perceptions. The two of us were amazed to discover that a whole two hours had passed in the course of our conversation. If it weren’t for the fact that the security staff at the museum was ready to shoo us off at closing time, we’d have sat there for another two hours! I told Claire that I would love to stay in touch with her and she warmly invited me over to her place for a meal–an invitation I’d be grateful to accept as her reputation as a fine chef has preceded her.

I had so many little chores to do when I got back home. My laundry (that I did last night) had to be folded and put away. I had to pack my backpack as I leave early tomorrow morning for my four day stay in Oslo, Norway. I was excited (as I have never been to Scandinavia) but my excitement disappeared when I checked the weather forecast for the next few days and discovered that it is freezing out there and that snow is expected every single day! I crammed my backpack with my warmest cashmere sweaters and threw in extra woolen socks, etc. I guess I will have no option but to live in the museums for the next few days!

With my packing done, I tidied and straightened my rooms–I hate to come home from a trip to a disorderly house. Then, I downloaded my pictures from my camera, charged it and my cell phone and sat down to have a long chat with Llew. When I had told him all about my search for a place for the summer, I rang off and heated my dinner (Sainsbury’s Fisherman’s Pie) and sat to eat it while watching In Bruges. I had no idea what to expect and basically ordered the film on Love Film.com because I thought it would be shot in Bruges and I would enjoy the locations. Well, it turned out to be a thriller but with the most hilarious dialogue and the craziest twists. Starring Colin Farrel and Brendan Gleeson, Ralph Fiennes makes an appearance at the very end. Yes, there was all the cinematography that I had expected (which makes me anticipate my forthcoming April trip to Belgium all the more) but there was this gruesome end that seemed so incongruous with the plot’s setting.

I am all set now to switch on my alarm as I need to leave my flat at 6. 45 am for my 7. 30 Easybus to Stanstead. I can only hope that the weather in Oslo will not make my trip a complete disaster. I will return to this blog on Sunday though I will continue to keep a travel journal–in long hand!

Monday Classes, Peter Taschel Lecture and Dinner with Rosemary

Feb24

Monday, February 23, 2009
London

My week began on a lovely note with two really good classes. It’s always great when you come out of class feeling as if the class went well. My students really did enjoy the field trip to Winchester and Portsmouth and have found useful material for their research papers which we began to plan and prepare today. I met with Yvonne during lunch break to ascertain my accommodation position and left with a phone number of an agent to call. It promises to be a stressful couple of weeks as I try to sort out my housing issue for the summer.

Even Office hours passed in a whirr as I printed out so many of the interviews I have done in the past week and itineraries for all my forthcoming travel. At 6.25pm, I left my office and walked the three minutes to the SOAS Brunei auditorium to listen to Peter Taschel on ‘The Acquisition of Gay Rights in Great Britain’. He is an engaging speaker, clearly passionate about the issue and his historical perspective was enlightening. In the last 7-8 years, the Gay Rights Movements in this country has had achievements that they can be very proud of indeed and Britain has gone from being the most homophobic country in Europe to being the most liberal and tolerant. In fact, Taschel ended his lecture stating that he cannot conceive how an educated, free and democratic country like the USA can still be so opposed to Gay Rights and so determined to prevent homosexuals from enjoying equal rights with other citizens. Well, I guess he has no idea how powerful the Christian Right is in the USA.

I then walked the five minutes that it took to get to Pizza Paradiso, a very popular hangout with Bloomsbury’s academics, for my dinner appointment with Rosemary. This place has bitter-sweet memories for me as it was in Paradiso, a few months ago, that I had run into my friend Sally Ledger who had just left her position at Birkbeck College to join Royal Holloway College. She had given me a great big warm bear hug and a kiss when she ran into me so unexpectedly at lunch time. We had left with the promise that we would get together for coffee at the British Library–a promise we never kept last semester. And when I emailed Sally a few weeks ago suggesting we do it this semester, I was kept waiting for a response–only to receive the awful news two days later that she had died that very evening! I am still mystified at the strange turns life can take. My friend Anna Vadillo has taken Sally’s place at Birkbeck College and we have now made plans to meet for coffee–so, in a way, I suppose, life goes on…

Rosemary and I had the loveliest evening. As always, we chatted about a number of things–Slumdog Millionaire that has swept the Oscars (Rosemary, her friend Lizzie and I had seen it together at the Curzon a few weeks ago); my need for summer housing; my lack of sleep (Rosemary had some interesting explanations!), etc. etc. I ordered a pizza Napoleana but have to admit that it was much too heavy on the anchovies. Rosemary’s ravioli asparagi was good, she said, but the bruschetta we ordered with pesto as a starter was really good. For dessert, I could not resist the Profiteroles Siciliana but again they were stuffed with just too much fresh cream and were a bit too rich at the end of a very heavy meal.

As always, for me, the pleasure of getting home within half an hour of an evening out is still a wonder.

Sight-Seeing in Sussex: Chichester, Arundel and Petworth

Feb22

Sunday, February 22, 2009
Chichester

Up again at 5. 50 am, I found the time to check and respond to email, make an Easybus booking to get to Stanstead airport and back for my trip this week to Oslo, Norway, and began drafting a new research grant application–all this while the rest of the world had a long Sunday late lie-in! As time galloped forth, I realized that it was almost 7. 30 and without further ado, I jumped into the shower, gulped down my toast and tea while Alternate Soaking and was out of the house at 8. 10 am in time to arrive in Wimbledon for my appointment with Stephanie at 9 .00 am. En route, in the Tube, I began reading Harry Potter #4 (The Goblet of Fire) and was making good progress on it when the train drew into Wimbledon.

Neither Steph nor I knew what the weather gurus had predicted but we hoped it wouldn’t be rain. We had decided to drive to Chichester in West Sussex, close to the Coast and not too far from Portsmouth which I had visited on Friday. As always, we chatted nineteen to the dozen in the car as we caught up with the goings-on of the past week–mainly Steph’s joy at finding a rental flat in Richmond.

Chichester:
By 10. 30 am, Steph was parking her ink-blue Lexus in Chichester’s quiet Priory Lane, so-called because it ran parallel to an ancient stone Priory that is now abandoned–or so it seemed. We found free parking (always a thrill!) and began walking down one of the town’s old lanes towards the medieval Market Cross that formed Chichester’s crossroad in the old days. Spring was decidedly in the air though the sun was playing peek-a-boo for most of the day. When it did make an appearance, it gilded the glorious Sussex Downs in the warmest shades and lifted our spirits no end.

Steph picked up a muffin and orange juice and munched as we walked towards the round monument that denotes the town center. At this point, we received our first glimpse of Chichester’s medieval Cathedral. We skirted its periphery and arrived at the gates where a modern sculpture of Saint Richard greeted us. At the main doors of the Cathedral that loomed above us (its spire creating an impressive landmark on the skyline, visible for miles out at sea), we discovered that service had just begun and visitors were unable to enter for a whioe hour. Since neither Steph nor I had heard Mass, we decided to join the service and spent the next one inside one of England’s oldest cathedrals.

Construction on Chichester Cathedral was begun in 1075 and it was largely rebuilt in the 13th century. It is a vision in clean-cut sophistication, its three storeys rising on rather stark plain walls. The highlight of the service for us was the excellence of the choir whom we passed in their wooden choir stalls en route to Communion–they gave the two of us goosebumps! Right after the service, we encircled the interior to take in the Marc Chagall stained glass window that is a burst of vivid color and contains his signature flourishes–his goat’s heads, for instance. At the back of the Shrine to Saint Richard, there was a beautiful woven carpet, also modern in design. We joined the congregation for coffee at the end of the service in a chapel at the side, then walked out into the town, glad to have attended Sunday service in so revered a place.

Lunch was on our minds by this point and since I have never eaten at Pizza Express but had been interested to try out the “Pizzas by Theo Randall” that Pizza Express has been advertizing for weeks, I jumped at Steph’s suggestion that we get a pizza. I ordered ‘Theo’s Tonnera’ which contained tuna and capers and black olives while Steph got a Guardina with artichokes, asparagus, red peppers and tomatoes. We split our pizzas and had a diet Coke each and then we were making our way back to our car as we had decided to move on to the other interesting venue right outside the town of Chichester, the Fishbourne Roman Palace.

Fishbourne Roman Palace:
This incredible space, right in the midst of nowhere, is one of the most important Roman remains in the United Kingdom. It was while a trench was being dug in the mid-1960s, that a perfect black and white mosaic was discovered embedded in the soil. Archeological excavations then extensively carried out in the area with the help of hundreds of amateur diggers, revealed the remains of a grand Roman Palace built around AD 74. A huge fire in AD 250 destroyed most of the building and the stone was used to build the Roman walls of the city that still stand.

The highlight of the exhibit is an almost intact mosaic floor whose center roundel depicts Cupid riding a dolphin while surrounded by more rondels of sea panthers, wine decanters, etc. This was the floor of what was almost certainly the dining room of the grand home that once housed dozens of people of various generations and a multitude of slaves. A 12 minute film recreated the era for us with the the kind of documentary vividness that these films always do so superbly and when we walked through the remains, we were completely in awe of the elegance with which these people lived and their expertise as gardeners–for the Palace was built around extensive formal gardens that were filled with box borders, espaliered trees and a variety of herbs. For me, it was like revisiting a tiny piece of Pompeii for it was in AD 69 that Pompeii had been destroyed. This Palace was, therefore, contemporaneous with all the marvels I had seen there with my friend Amy Tobin last March.

When we had spent more than an hour in this location, we decided to move on. Stephanie, who works for Twinnings Tea, had told me that her colleague Stephen Twinning, had mentioned to her very casually yesterday that if she intended to go to Chichester, then she ought to go to Arundel for a meal. Having taken a look at our map, I realized that it was not too far from Chichester and, on an impulse, we decided to take a detour there. And, boy, were we glad we did!

Arundel:
Arundel came upon us like a shock! Since neither one of us had read up anything on it, we did not know what to expect. Imagine our reaction, then, when we rounded a corner and came upon the turrets of a fairy-tale castle perched high up on a hill, staring down at us as we drove along a curving street through the center of a medieval town whose beamed shop fronts hid antiques stores, charming eateries and warm tea rooms. Llew had chosen just that time to call me and with Stephanie exclaiming besides me in undisguised delight, I told Llew I would call him later. Indeed, the castle reminded me so very much of the grandeur of the structure known as the Palais des Papes (Papal Palace) in Avignon in the South of France. It certainly had the same dimensions and color and some architectural features such as the crosses cut deep into the steep sides. We parked our car and hurried to see what we could of the castle before we lost all light for it was almost 4.00 pm by this time.

Wondering how to get inside, we asked a little old lady seated on a bench where we could find the entrance when we received the bad news that the castle is open only after April. As we climbed the steep hillside lined with antiques shops, I disappeared into one of them leaving Steph to find her way to the top. I poked around a bit and left with a lovely Hammersley porcelain cup and saucer for my collection which cost me almost nothing. It is steals like these that make my browsing in antiques shops so worthwhile.

Climbing further up the hillside, we arrived at the ancient stone Church of St. Nicholas that dates from the 13th century. I almost had an accident here as the glass and wooden doors of the church were difficult to open. “Turn the knob and push hard” instructed a little sticker on the door. Well I did and I almost tumbled over four steps that lay just beyond the door! Relieved that I had done myself no harm, we roamed about the interior of the church.

Next, we tackled the imposing interior of yet another Cathedral–this one belonging to the Roman Catholic Diocese of Arundel. Of course,we had to go inside and inspect it and how thrilling it was to read the history of Saint Philip Howard, once Earl of Arundel, a courtier in the time of Elizabeth I. He was persecuted for converting to Catholicsm and sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered after being convicted over cooked-up charges of treason (he is reported to have prayed for a Spanish victory over the Armada!). He died of malnutrition (some might say mercifully) when imprisoned in the Tower of London and was canonized a few years later. It is always these little nuggets of history–whether ecclesisastical or secular–that catch my fancy and keep me rivetted to the spot as I circle the monuments that signify their occurence.

On our way downhill, we browsed in another antiques store–this one carrying pricey country furniture as Steph looked for a mirror and a dresser for her flat. Everything was atrociously overpriced, however, and so we beat a hasty retreat. Arundel came upon us like an unexpected gift and we were so thrilled we took the advise of an Englishman to explore a part of the country of which neither of us had heard.

Petworth:
Then, realizing that another picturesque town–this time, one I had heard of before–was on our return route to London, I suggested we drive through Petworth. Petworth House, run by the National Trust, is another great country estate but like all National Trust properties, it remains closed until Easter (I do wish I had been warned about this because an English Heritage membership seems to offer much better value for money. Not only do their properties remain open all year round but they have tie up agreements with several sites that allow their members discounted entry as Stephanie is finding out, much to her joy, while National Trust members get no discounts at all).

Our drive through Petworth did reveal a tiny town that time forgot, complete with narrow winding lanes (also full of antiques stores, enticing shops and cute restaurants–all, unfortunately, closed by the time we arrived there).

We did get a good flavor, however, of the quaint charm of these Sussex coastal towns that come suddenly upon the motorist along country lanes that are sprinkled with villages, dotted with stone-clad churches and fields full of cud-chewing black cows. This kind of rural English landscape that I sometimes believe to be its most spectacular element, followed us all the way into Surrey by which time we had lost light completely as the sun set over the third salmon and aquamarine evening sky I have seen over the past three days.

On the way back on the Tube from Wimbledon, I couldn’t help thinking how progressively better the weather had gotten since we first began these Sunday excurisons together. In Rochester, we had rain. In Battle, we had snow. In Canterbury, we had clouds. And in Chichester, we finally had little spurts of sunshine that had lit up the entire country with a burnished glow.

With a little bit of luck, we will see the rest of the United Kingdom at its best.

And so on we go… towards yet another week–as Lent begins, Shrove Tuesday brings its customary pancakes, Ash Wednesday brings its, well, ashes and we slowly inch towards the spring-time joys of Easter!

British Library, Discovering Clerkenwell and Exploring the Tate Modern

Feb21

Saturday, Fenruary 21, 2009
London

Despite going to bed at 11. 30 pm last night, I awoke at 5 am, then forced myself to get back to sleep again as I am afraid that this lack of sleep might not be too good for my health! Luckily, I did doze off and woke up again at 6.45 am at which point my day’s work began.

I started off by drafting a longish response to the collaborative preparation online workshop in which all overseas NYU faculty are currently involved. Responses have been trickling in from Paris and Florence and with Karen having sent in her contribution from London, I thought it was about time I put in my ha’penny’s worth. It took longer than I expected, but it was finally done and I emailed it to my colleagues scattered around our satellite sites in Europe. A call to my parents in Bombay (to whom, for various reasons, I haven’t spoken for a few days) followed, after which I made a Eurostar booking for my trip to Belgium (I shall be visiting Brussels and Bruges) and a Youth Hostel booking for accommodation there. I followed this by another accommodation booking at St. Chrisgtopher’s Inn in Newquay, Cornwall, and finally got down to eating my breakfast while doing my Alternate Soaking–by which point it was a little after 9 am.

A shower followed soon after and then I was leaving my flat to catch the bus to the British Library where the Frank Anthony book that I am seeking is stocked. Only problem is that when I reached the Asian and African section where I have been carrying out the bulk of my reading, I discovered that the book is “off site” in Boston Spa, Yorkshire. Of course, I requested that it be sent to me here in London and since I expect it to arrive on Tuesday, I have earmarked that entire day for research and reading at the library itself–as I might only refer to the book for three days at the library itself.

When I walked out of the Library, the sun was shining gloriously and the world suddenly seemed spring-like. There was still a decided nip in the air but it did nothing to chill the spirits of the vast numbers of people that had taken to the streets to bask in its cheer. What a perfect morning for a walk, I thought, as I rode the bus back home (during which time Llew called me and we had a chat), dropped off my bag and other non-essentials, pulled on a baseball cap and my sunglasses, grabbed my book (24 Great Walks in London) and set off to discover nearby Clerkenwell.

And what a lovely morning I had! The walk is entitled “Monks, Murder and Masons” and it took me into what the book calls “London’s secret village”. Indeed, I would never have ventured into this part of the city were it not for the book and yet the area is in my own backyard! Starting right outside Farringdon Tube Station, it brought me to The Castle, a pub that has the unique distinction of owning two licenses–as a public house and as a pawnbroker! There are three gold balls outside the pub to proclaim this fact. The pawnbroking license was granted to The Castle by the Prince Regent (later George IV) who ran up a huge debt at a near-by cockfighting ring. In despair, he turned to the pub next door and asked the owner if he would accept his gold watch for a loan. Not recognizing his royal patron, the pub owner agreed and money changed hands. The next day, an envoy appeared at the pub with enough money to retrieve the watch and a pawnbroking license which the pub has proudly displayed ever since. I entered the pub to see a painting on the wall that depicts this fascinating story.

Going through a really narrow alleyway that was reminiscent of the novels of Dickens, I arrived at St. John’s Square under a stone gateway that Shakespeare would have known. This lovely gateway that dates from 1504 was once the main entrance to the Priory of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John. Following their dissolution, it became the Office of the Revels. Contemporary dramatists like Shakespeare and Marlowe would have brought their plays here to be licensed for public performance. By 1877, the space was acquired by the organization that evolved into the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade which has branches world-wide. I was able to take a quick look at the small but very interesting museum inside on the ground level though I could not mount the stairs leading to the opulent rooms upstairs, Those could only be visited through a guided tour that began at 2 .15 pm.

The walk continued towards St. James’ Church, Clerkenwell, but since it was closed, I could not visit it. It has been on this site since the Middle Ages but was rebuilt in the 18th century. Just past Clerkenwell Close, I arrived at the Middlesex Sessions Court, a beautiful and very impressive building that, by the middle of the 19th century, had become the busiest courthouse in England. When the courts moved elsewhere, the premises were occupied by the London Masonic Center. As if on cue, just as I arrived there, a stream of suited, booted and tied Freemasons poured out of the building, crossed the street and made their way to a pub at the corner for a noon day tipple.

I, on the other hand, crossed into Farringdon Lane and arrived at the most fascinating part of the walk–the Clerk’s Well–from where the entire area derived its name in the Middle Ages. You can actually see the well or spring which became known as Fons Clericorum. It once gushed forth abundantly and was popular among the locals clerks. Lost for centuries, the well was rediscovered in 1924. It lies below ground level and can be glimpsed through glass windows.

Once in the street called Hatton Garden, the center of London’s diamond district, I found myself gazing at the Police Court that provided the inspiration for a scene in Dickens’ Oliver Twist–though the modern offices on the ground floor belie any of its Victorian antecedents. From there, it was on to The Bleeding Heart Tavern where we once had dinner with Karen and Douglas when Llew was visiting London. The gruesome story that gives the pub its name is probably more a result of legend than reality.

In another five minutes, I was back home for lunch (soup and noodles from Wagamama) and taking a much-needed nap. I wasn’t so much drowsy as tired and decided that a few mintues shut-eye would do me a world of good. I woke up about a half hour later, got dressed and set out again–this time to see the Tate’s Modern collection on the South Bank as the museum stays open until 10 pm on Fridays and Saturdays.

I caught the bus to St. Pau’s, then crossed the Millennium Bridge on foot, astonished at the huge crowds that appeared like black ants ahead of me on the bridge. Clearly, the excellent weather had contributed to the presence of spring fever for people were prancing around light-heartedly and taking pictures galore of the urban scenes on both banks. Within a couple of minutes, by 5.00pm, I was in the gallery gazing upon the gigantic spider in the Main Turbine Hall. This recreation based on the original by Louise Bourgeois made every visitor who entered the gallery stop dead in his tracks and gaze upon the humongous creation.

I decided to spend my time taking in the museum’s permanent collection most of which is on the 3rd and 5th floors. But before I began, I took the lift up to the seventh floors for some of the most gorgeous city views. In fact, on the seventh floor, the viewer is at a height that is almost parallel to the dome of St. Paul’s whose impact is just stunning. I got some really lovely pictures from this angle of the glistening Thames and the large number of sailing craft that plied its waters.

Really pleased with my pictures (because every other time I have been to the Tate the weather has been gloomy and my pictures have appeared suitably grey), I started my exploration of the collection. Among the many famous works that dot the galleries, the one that most struck me was entitled ‘Thirty Pieces of Silver” by Cornelia Parker to whose work I became introduced just a couple of weeks ago at the V&A Museum when I saw her suspended work entitled ‘Breathless’. That one was composed of a collection of trombones, clarinets, trumpets and other wind instruments that she had flattened and then strung from the ceiling where they swung gently like one of Alexander Calder’s mobiles. This one, composed of thousands of pieces of silver that she acquired from junk shops was flattened out by a steam roller. She then composed thirty vignettes comprising trophy cups, cutlery, platters, etc. and has strung them from the ceiling where they simply mesmerized me as they seemed to do some many other visitors. Indeed, a whole large gallery has been devoted to this breathtaking piece of Modern Art with which I found myself connecting instantly. I was also pleased to find Roy Lichtenstein’s “Wham” on display–this is one of Marina Versey’s 100 Masterpieces of Art. I have been trying to see every single one of them in the various musuems around the world where they are on display.

It was 8 pm when I finally finished seeing the permanent collection. I was tired but not exhausted as I had the good sense to use one of the compact folding stools available for the museum’s aged visitors. It proved to be very helpful to me and as I crossed the Millennium Bridge and took the bus back home, I could not help but think how wonderful a day I had spent.

If the weather holds out like this, Stephanie and I will have a lovely time tomorrow–but given the lousy weather we’ve been having for the past three Sundays, I am not holding my breath, and I am sure, neither is she.

Pausing in Portsmouth

Feb20

Friday, February 21, 2009
Winchester and Portsmouth

The Hampshire landscape still looked rather autumnal–a blanket woven of beige and sandy hues–as we made the half hour drive from Winchester to Portsmouth. I was a little surprised at how large Portsmouth is–I guess I expected another little dinky town like Winchester! But, of course, I was aware that Portsmouth has been the head quarters of the Royal British Navy for a long while. In fact, Llew and I had visited Portsmouth many years ago though we did not really get as far as the historic dockyard. This probably had to do with the fact that neither one of us is a seafarer and navy history has not been our cup of tea.

So it wasn’t with huge excitement that I alighted from the coach with my students and received the tickets (priced at 18.50 pounds for all attractions) that gave us free run of the area. Unlike Winchester, where there weren’t many kids to be seen, this place had attracted a large number of families out at Half-Term Week to see a bit of their historic landmarks. And possibly because my expectations were so low, I was completely bowled over by everything I saw and the guided tours we took. Robert Pinkerton had handed me tickets that allowed us to board the H.M.S. Victory at 3. 30 pm for a guided tour–this allowed us an hour to see the rest of the complex which includes a number of museums and special exhibits and the hull of the Mary Rose, a Tudor ship that was Henry VIII’s favorite war ship.

The harbor is dominated by a modernist structure that, for a moment, made me believe I was in Dubai for it resembles the facade of the Al-Burj Hotel. This one at Portsmouth is the Spinnacre Tower, its newest attraction. I saw people on the two highest floors and I can imagine how stunning a view they must receive, on a clear day, of the sea, the Isle of Wight and the southern English countryside. Alas, I had no time to find out for myself, as I did want to see the Mary Rose.

Again, I have to say that I wasn’t sure what to expect. The ship had been built in 1534 and by 1550, it had sunk on one of its skirmishes with the French. It was only a few years ago that sonar technology made the location of the wreck definite and elaborate arrangements were made to bring it to the surface. The ship had broken in two along its cross section and a portion was rescued from the sea bed with everything it contained (including the skeleton of a dog who had been trapped in a door as the ship went down). These items are displayed in the Mary Rose Museum (which I found fascinating and in which I would have loved to have spent more time).

However, just gazing at the wreck itself (now in dry dock and undergoing conservation) was enough to raise the hairs on my neck. I recalled all the lines from the sea faring novels and comic books I have read (“Shiver my timbers, boy…who told you to come out of the crow’s nest?”) and I was enthralled. The audio guides that were provided upon arrival gave great detail about Tudor life at sea, about sea warfare and about the raising of the ship. It was indeed quite brilliant and time flew so quickly that before I knew it, I had to join my class for the tour of the H.M.S. Victory.

This ship, quite splendidly refurbished and impeccably maintained in rust and black paint, was the vessel upon which Lord Nelson breathed his last during the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805–one of England’s most decisive sea victories. I joined a group of about thirty students and was placed in the charge of a guide who was poker faced and had the most dead pan expressions as he mouthed his monologues. But then, later, I realized, that he was probably trained to remain detached as the information he disclosed was so astonishing as to make me feel squeamish on more than one occasion.

A tour of the ship taught us a great deal about naval life in the 18th and 19th centuries and most of it was shocking. Examples: the sailors caught rats in the galleys below deck, sold them among themselves and used them to supplement their frugal shipboard diets; the ship’s doctor (known very appropriately as the surgeon-barber) had a range of instruments that looked as if they belonged in a carpenter’s chest–and this surgery was performed without any anaesthesia at all and while the patient was stone sober; after being flogged repeatedly, even for minor misdemeanors, with a cat ‘o nine tails (I finally discovered after I saw one why this whip is so-called), the miscreant was sent down to a doctor who, in an attempt to keep infection off his torn and skinned back, rubbed salt and vinegar into his wounds–you can see why I was squeamish and thought my knees would buckle. The sado-masochism of the captains and bosons of the time was touched on and I felt truly glad that I did not live in those often inhuman times!

A large part of the tour involved Nelson. We saw the spot on the deck at which he was hit by a bullet that went through his shoulder, punctured a lung, shattered a couple of his ribs and tore through his spine. His blood-stained clothing was striped off (and is now the chief exhibit of the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich where I had seen it last Setpember). He was then taken below deck and attended by the ship’s surgeon and its captain, the famous Hardy, all of whom knew, of course, that there was nothing that could be done for him. As he lay dying, he received the news of victory and said, “Thank God, I have done my duty”. Earlier he had motivated his crew by declaring, “England expects that each man will do his duty”. About three hours later, he died requesting Hardy to kiss him, a line into which much more than was intended has been read. There is a very good painting that depicts his final moments (but without much historic accuracy as most of these romanticized versions of such occasions are) and which made a fine backdrop for the telling of the tale. I have to say that from the first word the guide uttered to the last, I was completely engaged.

The tour also included a visit to the very bottom of the ship were gunpowder was stored in huge barrels in a copper lined chamber and to the ballast area where the ship’s stores were maintained. I learned more about naval warfare and the seafaring life on this single hour-long tour than I think I have ever learned anywhere else and I was hugely grateful that I took it.

On my way out, I rushed through the Mary Rose Museum once more to see the original canons and guns that had been brought ashore and to hold in my hands an original cannon ball from the wreck–which gave me a massive kick! I can see why the venue is so popular with kids (especially boys) whose excitement was palpable and infectious and made me think of my young days in the company of my own parents as a little girl visiting places of educational interest in Bombay.

On my way back in the bus, I read the final chapters of The Prisoner of Azkaban which became extraordinarily complicated as the story reached its denouement. The miles flew past as outside my window a salmon and acquamarine sky indicated sundown and the end of another active, fascinating and hugely educational day of my life in the United Kingdom.

I arrived home at 7. 30 after seeing my students safely in their dorms, then spent about four hours on my PC catching up with email and planning some future trips to Paris and Belgium.

I then went to bed at 11. 30 pm. on a very happy note having received news by email that Chriselle was granted leave from work, has booked her tickets on American Airlines and will be here in London with me during the first week of May! The weather will be so much nicer at that time and I would like to make some plans for what will probably be our very last mother-daughter trip before she gets married. I am almost besides myself with joy at the prospect.

Wessex and Winchester Cathedral

Feb20

Friday, February 20, 2009
Winchester and Portsmouth

Holborn was stirring slowly when I took the bus along Gray’s Inn Road to King’s Cross and found my way to NIDO, our student dorms on Pennington Road. Despite being told several times that our departure was scheduled for 7. 45, six of my students thought it was 8. 15 am and did not show up. The coach left at 8 am sharp with six students missing. They took the train from Waterloo and arrived at Winchester where they joined us later in the day.

Moira Ferguson and Alice Coltenfeanu were in the coach with me as we swung out of London (past the suburbs of Chiswick and Putney) and drove through Hampshire. I realized that this was the route Stephanie takes to work each day as the signs for Andover/Salisbury began to show up on the motorway. We made one pit stop about ten minutes before we arrived in the charming but very tiny town of Winchester where we parked by the towering bronze sculpture of Alfred the Great, King of the ancient Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex. He was he who united the warring factions of the neighboring counties. Though the Romans had made Wessex their base long before Alfred’s reign (having been in Wessex between 40 and 400 AD), it is he who is credited with making the town that eventually became Winchester a seat of power by creating mints all over so that the people would have monetary security as well as encouraging commercial activity on what is now the High Street. As I walked along the High Street, noticing its older (mainly Tudor) structures, I realized how many millions of feet had trodden these streets over the centuries and I felt awed.

There has been a Mayor of Winchester for almost as long as there has been one in London and it
was at his ‘house’–called the Mayor’s Abbey–that our walking tour of the town began with a trained guide. It was the Romans who redirected the flow of the River Itchen towards the outskirts of the town and the result is a number of fast flowing canals that wind around pretty gardens that were just starting to bloom. I saw more clumps of snowdrops and loads of primroses. The sun was out and a more welcome sight I haven’t seen for days as it poured its golden rays upon the cathedral walls.

It wasn’t long before we were entering the precincts of the grand Cathedral for which the town is famous (remember the song “Winchester Cathedral” of the 1950s?). No matter how many cathedrals I visit in the UK, they always come upon me with a mixture of surprise and awe–surprise that in the so-called Dark Ages (what an insult to the achievements of that era!) such a level of architectural expertise existed that could allow the construction of crypts that went way down into the soil bed and upon which the weight of so many thousands of tons could be supported; and awe at the craftsmanship of the carvers who then went on to embellish these structures with their talent. No doubt, it was these structures, speaking so eloquently of the religious ardor of the time, that kept so many of them employed for a lifetime.

The guide explained so many aspects of the exterior of the Cathedral and pointed out the importance of the Bishops of Winchester in their role as ecclesiastical prelates. We passed by the Bishops Quarters, lovely Tudor structures with their exposed beams and stucco walls, then went beneath the walls of the town above which is one of the smallest churches in the UK and the only one left in the country that is actually built upon city walls–the Church of St. Swithun-at-Kingsgate. Just past it is the home where Jane Austen spent the last six weeks of her life with her sister Cassandra. She came to Winchester as her doctor was based in the town to seek treatment for her illness that could have been Hodgkinsons or Addisons Disease (no one is sure). Her brother was Archdeacon at Winchester Cathedral–a fact that granted permission for her to be buried in the nave, one of the last burials to be conducted in the precincts of the Cathedral. There is a brass memorial to the author on the wall nearby. In the Fisherman’s Chapel, where 17th century Issac Walton has been buried, there is beautiful stained glass window referred to as the Compleat Angler window. Later, we went down to the crypt that was actually flooded (as water still seeps into the crypt from the water bed below) and saw the sculpture by Anthony Gormley of a solitary man brooding–these sculptures, of course, are cast from his own body after he wraps himself in cling film! My students and I had seen a bunch of his sculptures at Crosby Beach in Liverpool, a few months ago, when we had made a trip to that lively city.

Unfortunately, we did not have a chance to see the famous Winchester Bible as the library that contains it was closed, but we did marvel at two things: the choir stalls carved of oak which are the oldest in the country and were just exquisite in their details and the main stained glass windows which seem like a modernist design but are a result of the piecing together of the original stained glass windows that were blown out during the Civil War. The long nave of the Cathedral is equally imposing and since all the chairs were removed, the interior did not seem as much like a church as it did a museum! The best part about doing these class visits at this time of year is that the crowds are nowhere to be seen and you very often have the place to yourself for quiet contemplation.

Then, when we had said goodbye to the guide, I took directions from her and climbed the steep incline along the High Street to arrive at what are the only surviving remains of Winchester Castle built during Norman times–the Winchester Great Hall. The exterior is lovely (exposed black stone set within creamy mortar) as is the main portal and when we entered it, it was even lovelier. The mood was sombre and quiet which befit, I believe, its most famous exhibit–the Round Table of King Arthur. This is set high on the wall and must be quite immense in size for it looks huge though placed so far above us. It resembles a giant dart board and looks as if it were made yesterday. Recent studies have proved that it is not the actual Round Table though this one is at least 700 years old. A portrait of King Arthur adorns one part of it while the names of all the other knights are imprinted in a lovely Gothic script all around the circumference. The rest of the Hall is notable for the names of the knights who served the church through the centuries and for a magnificent bronze sculpture of Queen Victoria seated under a gilded canopy that was placed there to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee.

It wasn’t long before I grabbed a few post cards as souvenirs and a sandwich, a cheese scone and a chocolate covered flapjack and with this lunch, I joined my students on a bench overlooking the statue of Alfred and awaited the return of our coach.

A half hour later, we were on our way to Portsmouth. See my next blog entry entitled “Pausing in Portsmouth’ for an account of our amazing visit there.

Winchester was truly a lovely town that encompasses a great deal for the history buff and the architecture enthusiast to mull over. The fact that the sun was out on a spring morning made our excursion memorable and I left the place, astonished as its tiny size, but struck by how many elements of interest can be contained within so small a space.

Slogging It Out in the Salt Mines!

Feb19

Thursday, February 19, 2009
London

The day has swooshed past me in a haze. I have no idea where the hours have gone. I awoke a little after 5 am today and after reading The Prisoner of Azkaban for an hour, I made a To-Do List as I had so many little things pending that I wanted to complete them all.

I spent the next couple of hours creating an itinerary for the ‘Homes and Gardens Tour’ I wish to take sometime in late May. This was time consuming, but I do believe that I now have a game plan and with some fine tuning, I think I might be able to pull it off. It involves using National Express coaches all over the country, the English Heritage Pass and my National Trust membership to visit the country estates I have in mind. When I was almost cross eyed switching between the websites of these various venues and the National Express website, I decided to take a break and get some breakfast!

The next item on my agenda was researching china replacement service companies online to try to find the missing Paragon teacup from the set I bought in Rochester. Chances are I will never find it as preliminary research has informed me that my set was one of the earliest ever produced by this company, somewhere between 1921 and 1933. One of the companies I spoke with told me that since I do not have a name for my pattern (only a number appears at the back of my teacup), it is clearly too old for their search experts and they would be unable to help me. Another company has emailed me back to request that I send an accompanying photo to help them in their search. I shall now have to work on getting this done.

Next, I had to do a bit of grading as a couple of my students were absent and did not hand in their assignments with the rest of the class. I also had to do an online recommendation for one of my former students (now a field researcher in Kosovo) who is attempting to find a position in a Master’s Program at the London School of Economics. Drafting a letter of recommendation on her behalf took another great big chunk of my time.

It was well past mid-day when I finally sat down to transcribe material from the tape recorder based on the interview I did last night with Anglo-Indian genealogist Geraldine White. It took me simply ages to get everything down and half way through it, being almost cross-eyed, I decided to stop for a sandwich lunch and to start watching Jane Austen’s Persuasion.

But within a half hour, I was back at work as I really did want to finish the entire transcription before I left for the next interview I had scheduled at 5.15 pm with another Anglo-Indian. Working slavishly, I actually finished the White interview though it still needed finishing touches and to be proofread before it was ready to be printed.

This left me enough time for a quick shower and then I was on the bus to Truckles Wine Bar at Bloomsbury where John had suggested we meet. It was a truly delightful place with a basement section that was almost Dickensian in character and ambiance. There actually was a candle stuck in a wine bottle providing rather dim and flickering light–just as you see in the Dickens’ movies! It is these hidden gems that I so adore about London and that revive my love affair with this city at every turn. John and I settled with lager and a glass of Riesling respectively (as the pub did not carry cider) and then we were off.

John, a corporate attorney, is so different from any of the AIs I have met so far. He came to this country when he was 25 and spoke to me candidly about his experiences growing up Anglo-Indian in a small, narrow-minded pocket of South India. Several times during our conversation, he thanked me for undertaking this research project and told me what a great service I was performing for the community in putting myself through so much hard work in order to preserve the stories of the generation that preceded him in the UK. I found his candor deeply moving indeed and I know that I will be able to use a great deal of the stories he shared with me in the course of my work.

I was home by 7.30 pm when I got right down to work again on the White interview. It was 9.15 pm when I finally finished it and could stop for a bite to eat. I feel as if I have been chained to my PC all day today, added to which I received rather distressing news about my current lease. So, over all, I haven’t had too easy a day. Though I did complete work on all the items on my To-Do List (except for one grant application which I shall draft next week), I do feel rather wrung out with concern.

Tomorrow, I will be accompanying my students on an NYU trip to Winchester and Portsmouth and I am keeping my fingers, toes and other extremities crossed for good weather and the opportunity to enjoy some lovely English tourist venues.

A Very Busy Day!

Feb18

Wednesday, February 18, 2009
London

I was up again at the crack of dawn–at 6. 30 am–but did not have the time to do any reading in bed as I had to head out within an hour for my Physiotherapy session at UCL with Claire Curtin. I was early for my 8. 30 am appointment but was pleased to discover that I have improved a great deal since last I saw her. It seems that with the stretching exercises I have been doing, the shape of the arch of my feet has changed (hopefully, for the better!) and if I continue these stretches, I can hope to see more improvement. Claire showed me some new and more challenging exercises. I told her about my success with Alternate Bathing–while she did not nix it, she was not unduly enthusiastic either. She basically told me to do whatever it is that makes me feel better! She now wants to see me again after three weeks and has asked me to follow up with a call to the podiatrist to find out where I stand in the queue and if possible to see if they can fix up an appointment for me on the phone for my orthotics.

I took the bus straight from UCL Hospital to the SOAS Library so I could do some reference work with Frank Anthony’s Book Britain’s Betrayal in India. The library was almost empty when I got there at about 10 am–college students stir themselves slowly–and on consulting the online catalogue, I discovered that the book I wanted was in the Special Collections and for reference only. When I asked an assistant there to show me where the Special Collection was located, she informed me , to my huge disappointment, that Special Collections is closed on Wednesday because the library is short-staffed! I was so stunned! Imagine keeping a reference section in a university library closed because there is no one to work there! Such a thing would be unimaginable in the States!

I then decided to go into the stacks to get a book by Herbert Stark. When I tried to find that on the shelves, it was nowhere to be seen even though I had learned online that it was “Available”. I thought that I was probably looking in the wrong section or that the book had been misshelved. I was almost tearing my hair out in frustration by this point but, just then, I saw a passing librarian and asked for assistance. She apologized and told me that many of the books had not yet been shelved as “there is a huge backlog”. I was still trying to figure out what she meant when she led me to the Reshelving Section. To my horror, I saw several bookcases filled with books that had been returned days ago but which had not yet been returned to their respective shelves as they did not have the man power! This is completely insane, I thought. How is it possible for anyone to find books if they are not shelved correctly? I realized by this point that doing any kind of research in these libraries is going to take me much longer than it would take were I attempting to glean the same information in the US–so I better get cracking and bargain to spend a lot more time than I expected.

Since I was only two blocks away, I went next to the British Museum and decided to finish seeing the Highlights that I had begun yesterday. To my amazement, I found the Museum mobbed by every school-going kid in the country. Just as the area around Buckingham Palace was stormed by school-kids yesterday, so too the British Museum was buzzing today–a result of half-term break. The most popular galleries were the Egyptian Gallery where the Mummies are kept and the African and Native America Galleries where the giant totem poles and carved wooden eagles can be seen.

I had a bit of a fright when I entered an elevator to get from the Ground floor to the third. The elevator took off and then within ten seconds, kept bouncing up and down with a fearsome sound. The voice inside then said, “This lift is not in service”. I was terrified for a few seconds as I was alone in the lift and have never experienced anything like this. I started to look around frantically inside the elevator for a button I could press to communicate with someone for help when the doors swung open and I was back where I started. I fled and decided that I was better off climbing the stairs!

Eventually, I did get to the relevant floors and spent a fascinating hour seeing the following items:

1. The Lewis Chessman (These exquisite carved ivory chess man are in the Sutton Hoo section). Each one is different and they are beautifully crafted.

2. The Sutton Hoo Ship Burial. (These treasures found in a mound in Dorset were buried with a Saxon warrior who is presumed to be a king. In addition to arms and armour, there are gold and silver objects, jewelery, and a whole horde of really amazing objects that were excavated at the time of the discovery).

3. Mosaic of Christ. (This Roman mosaic, found in a Roman mansion, is the earliest image of Christ in Britain. It is remarkably well-preserved).

4. Basse Yutz Flacons. (These large urn-like metals vessels are the finest survivals of early Celtic Art. They were used for the storage and mixing of wine in keeping with similar techniques that existed in France at the time).

5. Oxus Treasure. (This is a collection of gold ornaments that hails from Archaemenid Persia. The detailed metalwork is amazing).

6. The Flood Tablet. (This is a small stone tablet whose cuneiform script has been deciphered as hailing from the Babylonian civilization. It has been interpreted as describing a great floor that led to the building of a great ark that was filled with animals and birds–an incident that bears an uncanny resemblance to the account of Noah’s Ark in the Bible. I was spellbound as I read about this on the explanation plaque near by).

7. The Royal Game of Ur. (This is a board game that was popular in the Middle East three thousand years ago. It was played with dice on a portable game board. Interestingly, a game called Asha, played in Cochin in Kerala, is said to have originated in this game–brought to India by the earliest Syrian Christians who hailed from this region–talk about cross-cultural global influences in the Ancient World…my God, this is stunning).

8. The Mummy of Katebet (This is one of the most popular items in the museum as kids seem to be bizarrely attracted to them).

9. Sphinx of Taharqo. (This is a smallish sphinx that has rather detailed features).

10. Samurai Armor. (This was found in the Japanese section but it was the least impressive of all the items I saw).

11. King of Ife (This is a small bronze head from the Yoruba tribe in Nigeria in Africa that shows the most delicate casting.)

I have to say that I was deeply touched by the images I saw everywhere of kids in the company of their parents. It took me back to my own childhood days in Bombay where I grew up. On Saturday evening outings, my parents took my brothers and myself to the Prince of Wales Museum in Colaba and it was probably there that my great passion for museums was first developed. I remember the excitement with which I looked upon the stuffed animals and birds in the Natural History section and the marvelous carved Gandhara art in other parts of the building. Bombay was such a different place in those days–the early 1960s. I remember the bus ride on a red double decker bus, so similar to the ones I have grown to love so dearly here in London. I recall the quietness of the Ballard Pier area on weekend evenings when the feverish commercial activity of the region ceased–so similar to my neighborhood of Holborn on weekend evenings. I can see so clearly the manicured lawns of the Museum and the sailors strolling around the dockyards having just disembarked from their voyages around the world.
How nice it is of these parents to spare the time to spend with their kids and to help create in their minds the kind of memories that I cherish today and am so grateful to my own parents for nurturing in me.

It was close to lunch time when I reached home to check and respond to email. Then, I shut my eyes for just a little while to take a cat nap as I had to step out again later in the evening to make my way to Charing Cross where I had scheduled a meeting with Geraldine Charles, the first Anglo-Indian academic I have met here in London. I arrived at our appointed spot rather early but whiled away the time at a local W.H. Smith store browsing through magazines. Geraldine arrived right on schedule and after we had settled ourselves in a Starbucks over coffee for her and a hot chocolate for me, we began our conversation.

Geraldine is different from most of the Anglo-Indians I have met so far in that she has made the study of her community as much an academic interest as it is a matter of familial curiosity. Her own probings into her family genealogy has led to her being invited all over the world to talk about Anglo-Indian families in British India. She gave me a ton of useful information and a number of photocopies of portraits from her family albums–all of which are priceless. Her clarity on the subject, her rather controversial views and her personal contact with eminent Anglo-Indians made for absorbing conversation and I was delighted, when at the end of our talk, she suggested we get together another time “for a curry at the Strand Continental Club”. I told her I would love to do that and on that optimistic note, we parted company as she left to catch a long-distance commuter train.

Back home, I settled in front of the telly to watch Under the Greenwood Tree based on Thomas Hardy’s novel of the same name, sent to me again by Love Films.com as the one they sent me a few weeks ago was defective. Thankfully, unlike most of Hardy’s writing, this one had a happy ending.

Changing of the Guard, Library Hopping and British Museum Highlights

Feb17

Tuesday, February 17, 2009
London

I put in a solid three hours of work at my PC in bed before I stirred out to start my day . Before 6 am, I turned to The Prisoner of Azkaban and by 7 am, I was checking and responding to email. Then, because I knew I had to be at Buckingham Palace by 11 am, I began transcribing the interview with Cecil and Mary Wilson that I had done a couple of weeks ago.

This is strenuous and exhausting work and it absolutely guzzles time away! When next I looked at my watch, it was 9 am and I had merely begun. Still, with time spent on my breakfast, my Alternate Soaks and my exercises, I could only just squeeze in a shower before I had to leave my flat for the bus ride to the Palace. The website had informed me last night that in winter the Changing of the Guard takes place every alternate day while in summer it occurs daily. I was keen to get pictures of the guards in their winter garb–wearing the long grey coats in the style of their Kremlin counterparts, so there I was making my way on a pleasantly mild day to find a spot most advantageous to the clicking of pictures.

Only I did not bargain with the fact that this is ‘half-term week’ (winter break)–when schools all over the country are closed. Droves of youngsters have descended on the capital from every corner of the United Kingdom and they had found themselves seats all around the Victoria Memorial. Long before I got to the Palace precincts, while I was still in St. James Park and strolling along Pall Mall, I wondered at the heavy police security and the numbers of people that had turned up despite it being what I thought would be ‘off-season’.

Still, I found myself a spot, though not the best as I later discovered and positioned myself for the clicking of photographs. I did not have not to wait too long. Within ten minutes, the first marching banks passed along in their red cloaks, their instruments gleaming golden in the watery sunshine. Indeed the sun made valiant attempts to elbow its way through a mass of thick clouds, but failed hopelessly in the effort. As the first rows of guards appeared, I discovered the name of the giant bear-skin hats they wear–busbees! Live and Learn, I thought, for I had never known that this was what those hats were called–I always just called them bear-skin hats! I received this little nugget of information from an English Dad standing near me who was explaining the ceremony to his little girl. I know I will never forget that word–busbee!

After the marching band and the crocodiles of guards went past–all attired in the expected grey overcoats, their winter regalia–a pair of coaches kept riding by in stately fashion. They were fully covered and I failed to see the point of them. Was there someone inside? If so, who and where was that person going? I was much too far from the Palace gates to see what was going on within the front yard. But at least I do know where to stand the next time I decide to do this highly “touristic” activity–in the summer, when they are back to wearing their red uniforms. In fact, I still find it hard to believe that despite innumerable visits to London, this was the very first time ever that I was ‘doing’ the Changing of the Guard. One more item just got ticked off my To-Do List!

Mission Accomplished, I made my way to the Library of the School of Oriental and African Studies as I was keen to borrow two books that I need for my Anglo-Indian research. It is the information contained in these books that will allow me to call for the specific documents that I wish to examine at the British Library. To my dismay, I discovered that while I can use the SOAS library for reference, I cannot take material out of the premises. This is because NYU is not affiliated to the University of London colleges–only to UCL (I’m still not sure what the difference is!). Hence, I can use the Senate House Library at the University of London freely.

Disappointed, I made my way past the Hare Krishna free food stall outside SOAS where I availed myself of the services of the organization to pick up a plate of rice with peanuts, a vegetable curry and some pumpkin bread. Replete with my unexpected meal, I made my way up the maze that is the Senate House Library and on going through the online catalogue and stacks, I had another disappointment for I discovered that the two books I wanted to borrow were not in the library (Frank Anthony and Herbert Stark). Very dejected indeed, I borrowed two other books instead (Alison Blunt and Lionel Caplan) and will now have to find a way to get those books out of SOAS–probably by having someone else take the books out for me.

Since it was still only a little after 3 pm, I decided to get to the nearby British Museum and take a look at the 20 Highlights that are supposed to be covered by first-time visitors to the Museum in three hours. I became aware of this self-guided tour through my students Frank and Max who took the tour on the date that I had assigned a Museum visit in lieu of a class (when I had so bad a hoarse throat that I could barely speak). It was easy enough to follow and I decided to cover about 12 of them on the Ground Floor. These were the items I saw today:

1. The Sloane Atrolabe (map that points to the position of the stars).

2. A Colossal Bust of Rameses the Great in the Egyptian Gallery (Supposedly inspired Shelley’s Ozymandias).

3. An Easter Island Statue called Hoa Hakananai’a. (Since I will probably not get to Easter Island itself, this was the closest I came to one of these mysterious sculptures).

4. Aztec Turquoise Serpent (Exquisite)

5. Group of Tang Ceramic Tomb Figures (Massive and quite astounding indeed)

6. Cloisonne Jar with Dragons (really large ginger jar with minute enamelling all over it)

7. Jade Cong (Couldn’t quite made sense of these objects at all despite the accompanying explanation. They are 5,000 years old and show superb craftsmanship for the time in the precision with which they are cut and polished)

8. Jade Terrapin from Allahabad. (This was really astonishing…a giant jade turtle that was made for Prince Salim–who became the Emperor Jehangir–in India. He had a special love for wild life and the turtle is found in the waters of the Ganges river where it meets with the Yamuna at the town that the Hindus called Praag and that Emperor Akbar changed to Allahabad)

As I had already seen the Rosetta Stone, the Parthenon Marbles and the Assyrian Lion Hunt Reliefs earlier on other visits, I decided to skip them though they were also on the Highlights List. There are about 12 more items on the Museum’s list and I shall try to complete my study of them this week.

Then, I was headed home on a bus, fairly falling from fatigue. I made myself an Alternate Bath and sat to watch the new TV channel that debuted today–Blighty. It featured a show on the Coast of Scotland (Orkney Islands) with special emphasis on the marine life to be found in the area. I found it interesting but as I have so little time for TV watching, much as I would like to to, I don’t think I will find a great deal of time to get acquainted with the channel and its promising offerings.

At 5 pm, I continued the transcribing of the taped interview that I had left unfinished in the morning, I had been concentrating on my work so much that I quite forgot that Ivana was on her way to meet me as we had made plans to meet up for a drink. Ivana arrived at 8pm, just as I was putting the finishing touches on my interview with Cecil Wilson. I excused myself for another five minutes while I wrapped up, then climbed into my clothes and left with Ivana.

I suggested The Mitre, a neighborhood pub in Hatton Gardens that Tim and Barbara had pointed out to me which dates from 1542. It is certainly the oldest pub in our neighborhood and when Ivana saw it, she was totally enchanted. She walked around it as if in a trance, taking in the cute courtyard (filled with worried attorneys drowning their sorrows in ale–who knows how long they will continue to have jobs?) and the bar area that was so small, so cozy and so ancient, it reeked of so much more than booze–age and history was what was proclaimed from the exposed beams–as we settled down with our shandy and cider and then decided to order a bite as well. We enjoyed the pub’s ‘toasties’–toasted sandwiches and sausage rolls and pork pies and caught up on our lives. I was amazed to recall that I hadn’t seen Ivana since our walk in Chelsea and Battersea just before Christmas. She wanted to know all about my trip to Berlin (as she grew up in that historic city) and everything else that I had been doing since we last met!

By 10 pm, though Ivana wanted another pint, I was nodding off and told her that I had had a very early start. We parted company at the entrance to my building, promising to get together again at her place at Elephant and Castle sometime soon. Then, I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed and began to jot down a few lines on to this blog.

An Uneventful Day…Except for Travel Planning

Feb16

Monday, February 16, 2009
London

Today was a fairly uneventful day. But for the fact that I taught two Writing classes, met with one student during my lunch break during which time I also squeezed in a meeting to sort out the details of our proposed trip to Suffolk, nothing much happened.

I did visit the large Jessops Camera store on Oxford Street to find out if they could help me fix my camera. Not only would they take 4-6 weeks to do this, but they said the charge would be 120 pounds! Given that our camera is about 9 years old, the salesman told me it was not worth it at all. At any rate, I have managed to find a way to keep it working even though it will not be most convenient. This has taken the worry out of the problem for me and I have now laid it to rest.

My meeting with Alice at NYU led to the finalizing of our plans for our student trip into Constable Country. We’ve now decided to include the medieval town of Lavenham in our itinerary. We will be headed to Dedham, East Bergholt, Flatford Mill on the River Stour and then on to Lavenham in Suffolk. It promises to be a fun-filled day.

I also had a chance to talk with Robert about our forthcoming trip to Cornwall and have a better idea now about our itinerary there. We will be making our base at Newquay, visiting the Eden Project and Tintagel, legendary castle-home of King Arthur, and Boscastle. I have decided that since a whole day will be spent by my students on the bus getting to Cornwall, I will go two days earlier and see some more of the region on my own. I am keen to visit St. Ives, for instance, where the Tate St. Ives and the Barbara Hepworth Museum are worth a visit as well as the town of Penzance (made famous by Gilbert and Sullivan in their opera The Pirates of Penzance). I will then head to Newquay and meet the bus when it arrives with the students late on Friday evening.

In an attempt to find transport to Cornwall, I went online and through Ryanair found a free (yes, Free) ticket to Newquay. Inclusive of taxes, my ticket cost one penny but because I made the booking online with my credit card, I had to pay 5 pounds! I will now get on the phone tomorrow and make accommodation arrangements for myself for two nights at the same hotel where NYU will be putting me up for the two nights that I will be spending there with my students.

I also managed to find myself accommodation in Paris through a French student of mine and since I am keen to experience the Chunnel, I went online to the Eurostar website and found some incredible fares. I am looking at spending a week in Paris somewhere during the first or second week in June when the weather will be much nicer and the responsibilities of teaching will be behind me. Now all I have to do is find another week somewhere on my calendar to be spent in Belgium–and with that I would have achieved almost all my international travel goals for the year.

I spent a good part of the evening photocopying material from my travel books for the trip I am taking this coming Friday with my students to Winchester and Portsmouth and to all the other spots that Stephanie and I intend to visit at the weekends. That and a bunch of other things that needed to be photocopied kept me busy for another hour, long past my office hours.

It was a very mild day and everyone looked cheerful even though the sun was in hiding all day today. I am amazed to see daffodil stalks sticking their heads out of the ground already–a sight that would be unthinkable in the States in the middle of February. I know that spring comes early to England (“Oh to be in England/ Now that Spring is here!”) but now that I am already spying the little signs that herald its arrival, I am fairly bristling with excitement.

I got back home to sort out all that material that I had copied and to organize it and watch a bit of TV and eat my dinner before I settled down for the night.

I am excited about waking tomorrow to the inauguration of a new channel on TV called ‘Blighty’ which promises to present programs about the quirkiest aspects of British life and culture. It should be, as they would say here, not just brilliant, but loads of fun.

Tomorrow I am also planning to go and do something I have never done before in London–Viewing the Changing of the Guards. I am particularly keen to view this spectacle while the guards are in their winter togs of knee-length grey coats and if I want to get some pictures featuring this garb, I will have to hurry as there doesn’t seem to be much of winter left, is there?