Archive | October 2016

Meeting at NYU-London, Visit to British Museum and A Fright in Holland Park

Oct21

Thursday, October 20, 2016

London

Morning Mass at Ealing Abbey:

Ever since my former neighbor and friend Barbara fished out her I-pad during her visit to my flat on Sunday, and informed me that the Catholic Ealing Abbey is in my vicinity, I have been meaning to go there for daily Mass. Well, this morning was unusual. I awoke at 2.00 am and simply could not go back to sleep. It made sense to switch on my I-phone (which I charge overnight by my bedside) when I discovered that the third US Presidential debate was on. I tuned in immediately and listened to Trump and Clinton duke it out. A few Whatsapp messages were exchanged with Llew who was also watching in America before I tried to go back to sleep at about 4.00 am. But sleep simply eluded me. Giving up, I pulled my laptop close to me (also charging overnight on my double bed of which only one side is ever used!) and began to type a blog post. When I noticed that it was 6. 15 am, I decided, on impulse, to try to get to Mass. I would leave at 6.50 am for the 7.00 am Mass–hopefully, it would not be too dark or too daunting at that time.

And that was precisely what I did. I washed, dressed and left my flat on schedule. It was still dark enough that all vehicles on the street had their headlights on. However, there were already several people finding their way to the Tube station to get to work and there was a lot of traffic on the streets. I felt very safe indeed as I walked briskly to Church and found myself there in less than 10 minutes.

Ealing Abbey is a local parish church that is run by the Benedictine monks.  It is, therefore, also a working monastery. It is beautiful, both inside and out. You climb a high series of steps and enter a large  church that is impressive in its size. But apart from its painted timbered wooded beams on the ceiling, there is no ornamentation of any kind in this church. It is stark in its simplicity–probably in keeping with the monastic laws of avoiding any kind of ostentation. The altar is way up at a distance–again stark off-white stone steps lead to it. Candles are the only extraneous items on the altar. At one corner, I spotted a statue of Our Lady–but that was it.

In a few minutes, the service began and the monks trooped in–wearing black robes with heavy rope sashes at waist.  They took their places way up at the altar, sitting, as it were, in the choir stalls–although there really weren’t any. Mass was short and very quick–parts of it were sung and in Latin. It was a most unusual daily Mass–called a Coventual Mass, there were, in fact, several nuns seated in the front pews–of which I recognized a couple of Indian ones. Overall, it was very interesting and I was thrilled with myself for going to Mass at a church that is very easily accessible.

It was much brighter when I walked back home less than half an hour later and there were far more people on the street as life returned to Ealing and a new day dawned.

Back Home for Brekkie and Some More Work:

Back home, I toasted two croissants for breakfast and ate them with peanut butter and Nutella with coffee.  As I ate, I watched BBC Breakfast, then began the proofing of one more chapter with the idea of finishing it up before I arrived at my office (I have a good half hour commute on the Tube which allows me to get much reading done as I travel). Today, I had to leave my flat by 10.00am (which I did) as I had an 11.00 am meeting at NYU. I dressed (warmly) as the day promised to be chilly with periods of sunshine–and off I went.

Meeting and Working at NYU-London:

Students at NYU are excited about their mid-term break which starts in the first week of November–how is it possibly mid-term already??? I am still getting adjusted to my new routine…still, it will be nice to work in a building that will be devoid of students for a while.

My meeting with Kate and Philippa began promptly at 11.00 am. We met to discuss the Talking Points Lecture I will give and as we brainstormed, we discussed time, venue, format, participants, etc. I would send them a title and a blurb and a picture for the poster and they would take charge of publicity. We will hold it after the break and hope to attract a good audience of students and faculty members.

Once the meeting was done, I returned to my office and continued working on my chapter with the idea of finishing the proofing. All I was left to do then was the Conclusion to the book and I printed it out with the idea of proofing it in a very special place–the Kyoto Garden which is part of Holland Park in Kensington and which is one of my favorite parts of London. Frequent has been the occasion when I have sat in the garden and graded student essays to the sounds of cascading water from the nearby fountain and in the company of vivid peacocks that strut their stuff fearlessly amidst spring-time azaleas and rhododendrons. I was keen to see the garden in the autumn as I guessed that the Japanese maples would be fiery and would make some great photo ops. So that was my plan of action for the afternoon.

But first, lunch. I went downstairs to the kitchen to fix myself some soup and sat in the Faculty Lounge to eat my sandwich. It is always a pleasure to eat here as I invariably meet some of my London colleagues and get to know new ones. This time round, I met Julia and Eela and got to know Kate. Everyone is talking about the US election here and amidst an intellectual, liberal community, I suppose it is not surprising that no one wants Trump to win.

Back in my office, I continued culling through my printed memorabilia and having edited it all quite ruthlessly, Mark, the porter, found me a box in the store room downstairs and some tape. I packed up my brochures with the videos I have been buying from the thrift stores. With my box all packed for surface mailing to the US, I now have to get to the post office tomorrow to send it off. I took my box down and placed it in the store room and was pleased with myself for having completed a major chore. That task done, I left the building and since it was only about 2.15 pm, I decided to get one more museum ‘done’–and since I had not yet been to the British Museum although I had passed by it on numerous occasions, I resolved to go there and take a look at some new galleries that I have never covered before–although, from force of habit, I will also take a look at the Elgin Marbles!

Perusing Galleries at the British Museum:

I entered the British Museum from its back entrance on Montague Street near SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies). This is far from impressive, of course, but it takes you very quickly into the Main Court. From the many posters splashed around, I realized that there was a Maggi Hambling special exhibition entitled ‘Touch–Drawings on Paper’. Now I have always found Hambling fascinating although I do not know much about her work or life. What I do know is that she is a Suffolk-based artist and is personally known to my Suffolk-based friends Paul and Loulou (which whom I shall be spending a weekend very soon). They have been huge patrons of her work and when I lived in their Farringdon loft, a few years ago, a self-portrait by Maggi Hambling hung directly above my bed. So Maggie was really the last person I saw every night! For this reason, I was curious to see her work and I made my way up to the fourth floor to Gallery No. 90.

Every single work on display was deeply moving. A Modernist with a decidedly strong and very assured hand, Hambling’s portraits of her family members and dear friends are touchingly personal and strangely intimate. Images of her mother in her coffin, of her father on his death bed, of her art tutors while they lay ill, of ‘Sebastian’ whom she describes as the person she met in 1984 and began living with in 1987, of  her friend, the TV personality and actor Stephen Fry who actually fell asleep as she sketched him, plus her pen and ink word of flowing water, the sea, and fire and ice ones inspired by Japanese calligraphy to which she became introduced in the British Museum, are all simply spell binding. I was so very glad I made the impulsive decision to go and peruse her work for it left me knowing much more about this artist than I had ever known before. Also, interestingly, there is a huge Michelangelo Cartoon of the Virgin Mary with Christ and St. Anne and John the Baptist that, because of its size, has a permanent home here amidst changing contemporary art exhibits.

From the fourth floor, I made my way to the Ground Floor to the Main Court which always takes my breath away in its architectural grandeur. My aim was to see the Waddesdon Bequest that was gifted to the Museum by the Rothschild Estate–part of the riches to be found in Waddesdon Manor which was the Rothschild grand mansion in the Oxfordshire countryside (now run by the National Trust). As I had not gone to see it (too long and too expensive an outing even from Oxford), I was keen to see the items in the British Museum.

And my gosh, were they spectacular! Small but exquisite, each item in Gallery 2a that comprises this collection is worth lengthy scrutiny. There is everything you can imagine a wealthy man would want to spend his money on if he has an eye for beauty and an understanding of craftsmanship. So here is what struck me: gold pitchers, ewers, platters; carved agate bowls and servers; Italian ceramic vases; rock crystal cups, jars, bowls and footed vessels; intricately carved boxwood boxes; a bejeweled reliquary containing a Thorn from Christ’s Crown of Thorns; gold pendants encrusted with jewels superbly worked; beautifully carved wooden statues (of St. Catherine and St. George); carved amber beer tankards and boxes. The collection pertains to the Renaissance in Europe and there is not a single item that is not worthy of careful attention. It is worth going to the Museum only to see this collection. How could I have missed it previously?

Finally, I did not wish to leave the Museum without asking for, seeking and finding the Ichthyosaurus that the amateur fossil-collector Mary Anning had found. Ever since I read the novel Remarkable Creatures by Tracy Chevalier and had visited Mary Anning’s House (how the Museum) in Lyme Regis in Dorset this past August, I have been keen to get to the British Museum to see the items she found that so enthralled the world of paleonthology at the end of the 19th century, including stalwarts like Darwin who praised her work and gave her credit. Well, I asked at the Main Information Desk and while one assistant had no idea what I was talking about, I must admire the other assistant who knew immediately where it was and where to send me. Inside Gallery 1–an extensive room containing mainly the collection of Hans Sloane (without whom the British Museum would probably never have been created)–I asked another assistant and she directed me to the exact showcase which contains some of the most significant of the fossils found in the British Isles. And there it was–the icythyosaurus fossil in its own special section with Mary Anning’s name very clearly detailing her precious find!

So with three major ‘finds’ under my own belt, I left the Museum–and no, I did not get to the Elgin Marbles but I will soon–and since it was still only about 3.30, I decided to get ahead to the Kyoto Garden. I jumped into a 390 bus, got off at Oxford Circus, took another bus that sailed along Regent Street, got off at Piccadilly Circus where I took the 9 all the way down Kensington High Street. I have to say that although the journey took me much longer than I had hoped, I had a chance to pass through Green Park and Kensington Garden and to take in the look of trees wearing their striking autumnal foliage–mostly yellows with some reds. It is a pretty time to be outdoors and I looked forward to my foray into Holland Park.

Before I entered through the Earl’s Court entrance, however, I nipped into Waitrose to buy myself some red onion marmalade (by Stokes), some fruit scones (by Genesis) and some wonderful artisan French butter from Brittany studded with sea salt crystals as I expected it to be similar to the Bordier butter that I used to enjoy when I lived in Paris. It was my intention to sit in the Kyoto Garden, proofread a chapter and munch on my scone!

As if….

Arrival in Kyoto Garden in Holland Park:

It is a long hike to get to the heart of Holland Park from the Earl’s Court entrance on Kensington High Street–but it is a way I know well. Evening was closing in and most people were on their way home, their kids in push chairs (strolleys) and their dogs in tow. I always love the brick arches that lead to the Italianate Garden with its lilting modern fountain and its neat flower beds (now displaying late season purple salvia and hydrangeas that have turned a vivid maroon). This part of the garden never fails to remind me of Lionel and Jean in As Times Goes By as it was here that they had first met in the TV series, as a very young couple just on the brink of life before the war separated them.

I crossed this garden and made my way, with very certain steps to the Kyoto Garden in the back as I know this area well–having spent many an idle hour here. It was at this point that I was followed by a very aggressive peacock for peacocks roam freely in this part of the park. I felt the first flutters of trepidation but walked briskly away–only to find myself being followed very determinedly by the peacock!

Not wishing to seem like a woos, I walked quickly on and arrived at the Kyoto Garden. I absolutely LOVE this place! As expected, the dwarf maples had turned scarlet and the plum and pear trees had yellowed leaves. I clicked a few pictures and found that the peacock was still stalking me. As I walked around the lovely curving pond, I was struck by the number of squirrels that had also congregated here. Everywhere there were parents and their children (several Asians) taking pictures and introducing their kids to the animal and bird life that swarmed around freely.

I found an empty spot on a bench overlooking the pond besides a lady who was eating a salad from out of a Tupperware box.  I smiled, extracted the chapter I wanted to read from my bag and, at the same time, tried to pull out a scone. I meant to eat it with my butter as a tea time snack. And that was when I noticed the peacock closing in on me–simply staring at me while not a foot away. My flutters of trepidation turned to real fear and I squealed. The lady told me not to worry as it would do me no harm. But I kept imagining it moving suddenly and pecking me. I could not be reassured.

Half a minute later, I noticed a particularly needy squirrel arrive and sit at my feet. I jumped. It could possibly smell my food and was curious. But the lady besides me was eating too. Why were the peacock and the squirrel taking no interest in her? The squirrel came closer. I tried to shoo it away but it got on its hind legs and held its fore legs together and stared at me as if begging wordlessly! I was really afraid by this time and squealed louder. I realized then that it would be best to move my grocery bag up on to the bench. I put my chapter away as I was really terrified by this point. The peacock had moved away but the squirrel was getting bolder by the minute. He climbed on to a post, a foot away from me and looked poised to take a flying leap into my lap. No amount of shooing it away seemed to work. Two minutes later, just when I thought I had gotten rid of him, I found that he had climbed to the back of my bench and was inches away from my ear. The lady next to me said, “Be Careful. He is right behind you”. She was clearly nonplussed about his interest in me.

That was it. I screamed. I panicked big time. I simply had to get out of there. Gathering my bags and my things around me, I dropped my chapter and my pen and had the lady retrieve it for me as I was so frightened by this point that I could barely move. When she handed them back to me, I could hardly stutter a thank you as I fled. I have never encountered anything so bizarre in my life and I can tell you that it scared the Bejesus out of me. As I walked towards Bayswater Road to get to Shepherd’s Bush Market, my heart was racing. However, I did find another quiet bench in a far less crowded part of the park (with no squirrels or any other creatures around) and there I ate my scone with no disturbance whatsoever.

Back Home on the Tube:

I found Shepherd’s Bush Tube station after a ten minutes walk but I clearly was too unhinged to think correctly. I took a train heading to the wrong destination and realized after two stops that I was on the wrong one. Annoyed with myself at the waste of time and energy, I got off, retraced my stops in another train and then hopped into the right one that dropped me off at Ealing.

Once home, I took a shower and got dinner organized: Crostini with my red onion marmalade and blue cheese, king prawn masala with bread, a salad with lettuce, almonds and blue cheese. I watched New Tricks as I ate and tried to ease into the night after what had been a truly crazy evening.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Yet Another Working Morning at NYU-London and a Visit to the Museum of London Docklands

Oct20

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

London

A Rather Unusual Morning:

I awoke as usual–about 6.00 am. and did some blogging in bed. I caught up on email and then got a text from the realtor to say that the photographer would be arriving at 9.00 to photograph my flat for the rental market. Well, there was no time to lose. I jumped out of bed, washed, prepared some breakfast for myself–muesli with honey yogurt and coffee–and waited for the bell to ring–which it did at exactly 9.00. Aaron, the photographer, arrived and while be busied himself with his tripod and camera, I ate my breakfast  and sat down to work–to proofread one of my chapters. He was gone by 9. 35 and I got ready to leave–I decided to shower in the evening as I need to shampoo my hair and did not want to get out with my hair wet. It wasn’t long before I was at the Tube station getting my Oystercard registered in case of loss (which meant another happy encounter with the Anglo-Indian clerk Clayton) and was on the train heading to NYU.

A Busy Morning in my Office:

I have no idea where time flew except that I was hard at work by 11.00 and worked till 3.00 pm with just a short break for my soup and sandwich lunch which I ate in the Faculty Lounge–where I met another colleague, Phillip Woods, who gave me his card. Since he teaches Multi-cultural Britain, we had a lot to chat about. Then I was back at my desk, culling through the memorabilia I have accumulated and cutting it down to size. I also received an invitation to give a talk to the students and faculty during one of their Lunch Time Talking Points session–we have zeroed in on November 8–which means that the first week of November is going to be crazy busy for me with invited lectures. Still, I’m not complaining. This was the whole point of being in London as a Research Fellow and discussing my newest research and my forthcoming book.

Off to the Museum of London Docklands:

All of this week, I have been trying to go to museums in London that I have not covered so far. It began with Dr. Johnson’s House, continued with the Guildhall and today, I decided to go to the Museum of London Docklands. It is a hike to get to its location on the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) which probably explains why I have never ventured there before. It took me about 45 minutes to get there from Bloomsbury on the Tube–but arrive there I did. It is always a thrill to reach this curve of the Thames: the lovely glass and concrete skyscrapers of Canary Wharf always excite me and the newness of the whole area is a sharp contrast to the age and history of the rest of the city.

Exploring the Museum of London Docklands:

If you have never been to this museum, don’t saunter there…run! It is fantastic. I simply cannot believe that I have never seen it before. And it is free to boot! Built on the river Thames, in one of the original and old buildings that make up West India Quay (which is also the name of the DLR station from where you can walk a few meters to it), built in 1800, you will be absolutely enthralled from the moment you step into its doors. I had thought I would be done in about an hour and I could not have been more mistaken. There is SO much to see. If you stop to read all curatorial notes and watch every film, you could easily spend a day there and not get bored.

You start on the top (third) floor and work your way down. Upstairs, you get a brief history of the place. Three buildings–all identical–were built from 1800 till 1807 to handle the new maritime trade that developed when Britain acquired an empire. Ships plied across the globe bringing and taking goods from the colonies to Britain and to other countries that were key manufacturers–such as China which dominated the tea trade. Measuring scales, wheelbarrows, carts, hooks and other implements used to facilitate the movement of goods in baskets (tobacco), sacks (sugar) and wooden crates (all other items) are numerous. So many relics of this era are on display together with information about how the weighing, stamping, documenting, etc. was done for the British were compulsive record-keepers. Customs and Excise then stepped in and information pertaining to that whole process is explained.

There is simply loads of information on how shipping companies grew, labor was used at the docks (including information on the lascars who came from the Eastern colonies), the development of this entire area as habitation expanded around St. Katherine’s Dock, Wapping, Limehouse, The Isle of Dogs, and all the way up to Greenwich. There is also a wealth of information about crime that developed through gangs of thieves that stole from the warehouses and the horrible punishments meted out to them: from hanging to being left to rot in iron cages (giberts?) as examples to other prospective thieves. There was also information about gangs that went about getting young men drunk then grabbing then and throwing them on ships where they became used as forced labor. If they rebelled on board, they were whipped with ‘cats’ (cat ‘o nine tails).

There is a whole section about the growth of sugarcane in the West Indies, the development of the sugar industry and the use of slaves. Indeed the section on slavery in Britain was most enlightening and it amazing to discover that London was the second largest ‘port’ after Liverpool that ‘processed’ slaves–from arrival to sale to dispatch.  It was deeply heartbreaking and I was appropriately disquieted by this entire section that had on display such things as slave shackles, chains, etc.

On the second floor, one goes into the 19th century. The best part of this floor, in my opinion, is Sailor Town–a reproduction of the kind of segments of the city that grew around the shipping trade. This area is similar to the reproduction of Victorian England that we see in the Museum of London and which makes it one of my favorite parts of this Museum in The City. You walk through extremely dimly lit streets that are lined with smoke-darkened bricks and enter shops or peer into them: there is an interesting Exotic Animals shop (with snakes and parrots and even a camel inside!). There is a Bar (at which dock workers and sailors lost most of their salary as soon as they received it), a general store, etc. If ever one wanted an idea of what it was like living in the proximity of the huge trade that drove the empire, here it is.

This floor also has tons of information on World War II and the manner in which the Docklands were targeted by Nazi bombers for destruction. If you blew up the docks, you blew up the very lifeline of the British economy–Hitler knew it and his military went after this area during the blitzkrieg in horrific ways. There is wonderful footage from those days available on a large screen and it left me spellbound. Similarly, there are loads of pictures, articles, letters, etc. from that era from ordinary people working in the docks who carried gas masks to work and needed to use them at short notice.

It is hard to believe that the Docklands area thrived all the way up to the 1960s. In the 1970s, however, maritime trade changed as ‘container’ shipping took over the world requiring deeper harbors and greater dock space. London’s trade moved to Southend-On-Sea at the mouth of the Thames estuary where trade flourishes today. Canary Wharf was created and the journalistic, banking and financial industries moved there and the area fell into a new use. Declining warehouses were converted into the expensive yuppie waterfront housing of today and one building of the three West India Quay buildings was (thankfully) converted into a museum so that the significance of this part of the city and the primary role in played in its economic development will never be forgotten.

By this time, the Museum was near to closing time and I had to get going. I have to reiterate–this museum was a huge surprise to me and I would gladly go back and take another look at it (if time ever permitted).

On the DLR back home, I changed to the Central Line at Bank and was home before 7.00 pm when I had a shower and shampoo and then sat down to dinner: ravioli in a creamy bottled tomato sauce with flaked fish, lettuce salad with corn and peas in a balsamic vinaigrette and chocolate ice-cream for dessert. I watched a bit of TV as I munched and then called it a day at about 10.00 pm.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Another Working Morning at NYU-London, Visit to the Guildhall and Tea with a Colleague

Oct19

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

London

Once again, I awoke early (by 6.00 am) and contemplated going for Morning Mass to the Benedictine Abbey which is not far from where I live–but the morning was wet and drizzly and dark and I do believe it might be a better idea to do a ‘rekky’ of the area first–find out exactly where the church is–before I go looking for it while it is still dark. Yes, autumn is here and the days have closed in: sunrise is later and sunset comes faster now–so I try to fit in as much as I can during daylight hours.

Hence, what I did accomplish, apart from writing a blog post and catching up with email, was the proofreading of one more chapter of my book (as I have an urgent end-October date for submission of the manuscript). I finished most of it before I stopped to have breakfast (fresh toasted croissants with peanut butter and Nutella with coffee) and had a shower. It is great to be able to watch BBC’s Breakfast show while munching. I left my house at 10.00 am on schedule and was at NYU by 10. 35am.

Hard at Work in my Office:

I spent the next three and half hours hard at work as I printed out and proofread my chapters (I manage two per day), read and responded to work email as it came in after the USA woke up and began the editing of the vast amount of sightseeing memorabilia that I collect at every venue I visit. Since I wish to mail all this printed material back to the USA, I am trying to cull through it so that only the ones I actually will use in my Travel scrapbooks will  make it to America. I am doing it in batches as I intend to go off to the post office at the end of this week and mail some of it off right now. No doubt I shall accumulate a lot more material at the weeks go by–but I shall mail those off later.

My British colleague Valerie Wells popped in to give me an article she found on an Anglo-Indian woman who is compiling a book on Anglo-Indian recipes from her great grandmother who spent time in India. It was lovely to visit with her for a few minutes and to know that some of my British colleagues are aware of the topic of my research.

Off to the Guildhall:

It was a lovely sunny (if a bit nippy) afternoon and I had intended to spend it at one of my favorite parts of London that I have not yet visited–foolishly… as I should have gone there in the summer: the Kyoto Gardens at Holland Park. But then I received an email from my colleague Emma at NYU-London wondering if I could meet her for tea that evening at 5.00 pm at Gail’s on Bedford Square. I was keen to do so and re-arranged my plans for the afternoon.

Hence, I decided to go someplace closer (that would allow me to meet her on schedule) and went on impulse to the Guildhall instead. You might remember that when I had visited the Guildhall Art Gallery in August, I was unable to enter the Guildhall itself as it was under major renovation. I was told to return to see it in September, but since I was traveling for most of September, I went today instead. I took the Central Line Tube from Tottenham Court Road to Bank and walked for five minutes to the Guildhall where I arrived at about 2. 30 pm.

Visiting the Guildhall:

London’s Guildhall is a secular Medieval building that dates from 1411–it is built on top of a series of medieval crypts. It gets its name from the various medieval guilds that ran the city and has been the seat of government of The City of London since the Middle Ages presided over by a Lord Mayor–one of the most famous is Dick Wittington of story-book fame. The outside of the building resembles a Gothic Cathedral with its towering spire and its elaborate tracery on stained glass windows. It stands in a beautiful square flanked by the modern Guildhall Art Gallery built in the 1960s and the medieval church of St. Lawrence Jewry–so-called because it stands in part of The City that was once inhabited mainly by Jews–and where I have often attended lunch-time classical music concerts.

There is security to go through before you enter the Guildhall. While it is open to visitors today for free, there is only really one large room to see–a sort of Medieval Hall that looks a bit like the Dining Halls at the medieval universities of Oxford or Cambridge. There are massive stained glass windows at both ends of the hall in the classic Gothic arched shape. There are also huge sculptures along the sides–you will easily recognize Winston Church in forbidding black bronze and that of Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Trafalgar, in white marble. Alongside him is a sculpture honoring Nelson and his famed victory at Waterloo. And flanking him, on the other side, is a sculpture to William Pitt with one to his son on the opposite side. These huge monuments are wonderful testaments to Victorian sculpting expertise and are worth seeing.

However, the most famous of the sculptures in the Guildhall belong to Mog and Magog who stand high up on the balcony and look down at the frequent official proceedings. They are medieval knights dressed in the garb of Roman soldiers. They strike wonderful figures in stone and fresh gold paint. Indeed the very structure and shape of the Guildhall reminds you of knights and you can easily imagine a time when they came right off horseback to participate in Round Table-like meetings in this wonderful space.

This space was also the spot of various important trials through the ages. Some of the cases that were heard here and some of the people that were condemned to death were poor Lady Jane Grey (rightful heir to the British throne who was killed on false charges so that she and her line could not succeed to the throne), Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey( yes, the Elizabethan poet), Archbishop Cranmer (from the era of Henry VIII), Henry Garnett who was one of the co-conspirators of the Gunpowder Plot (although, for some reason, Guy Fawkes is much better known) and a bunch of Roman Catholics who preferred to hang on to their own religion. So. history and great sculptural art coalesce in this space and I was happy to peruse it.

Victorians De-Coded at the Guildhall Art Gallery:

My friend Barbara had suggested we see the exhibition entitled ‘Victorians Decoded’ at the Guildhall Art Gallery and since I was so close and had a bit of time on my hands, I popped in there. The exhibition is at the basement level of the Gallery (which I have visited frequently over the years). It is based on a connection between forms of telecommunication in the Victorian Age and the paintings in the Guildhall’s collection. The most famous and beloved of them is Lord Leighton’s Music Lesson which most visitors photograph because it is a classical Victorian work of art that captures so beautifully the intimacy of instruction between a mother and daughter. The background (an elaborate Turkish villa) with its architectural details and the grandeur of the clothing they wear, make this a stunning work of art in terms of its marvelous use of color. There were other major works, of course, but I have to say that oftentimes I could not see the connection between the concept of ‘signals’ and the works on display.

I also used the occasion of my visit to browse through a few of the paintings in the permanent collection upstairs before I left the Gallery for my next appointment. I love this part of London with its financial air about it and the purposeful looks on the faces of almost everyone on the streets as they go to and fro from their high-powered offices to the streets below. I am sorry that since I will not be in London that day, I will miss the Lord Mayor’s Procession that takes place once a year (this year on November 12) when the Lord Mayor goes forth in a grand golden coach drawn by handsome horses and preceded by his Guardsmen from Mansion House (his home and office) down Cheapside!

 

Tea with a Colleague:

I took the No. 8 bus terminating at Holborn and got off at Bloomsbury where, for just a few minutes, I popped into the Cartoon Museum to see if it was worth visiting. There is a 7 pound entry fee–so I might just keep it for later! It has a very nice shop, however, and I am amazed that people still find it–being that it is tucked away in a corner between Coptic and Museum Streets on Little Russel Street in front of the British Museum–a very witty location. For the grand British Museum in on Great Russel Street!

I was meeting my colleague Emma who teaches at NYU-London and who had an hour-long break between classes. She suggested we meet at Gail’s Tea Room where she arrived a little after I got there. We shared a pot of peppermint tea and caught up on her publications. She has just had a novel published (Owl Song at Dawn) and has a second book on Literary Female Friendships coming out early next year. Hence, she is hard at work meeting various deadlines. It is inspiring to be in the company of other women who are also working on books and, like myself,  are juggling research and writing schedules as we work towards deadlines.

 

Back Home for Dinner:

Emma had to leave for her class at 6.00 pm and I left soon after. I took the Tube from Tottemham Court Road and got home at 6. 45 but was surprised by a visit from the local realtor who brought two young men in to see my flat which goes on the rental market after my departure.

When they were gone, I got ready for dinner–I had a chicken and gravy pie that I bought from Sainsbury and I ate it with a lettuce and corn salad and a bowl of chocolate ice-cream for dessert while I watched TV.

I had a fairly early night and was in bed by 10.30 am when I fell asleep almost immediately.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

A Working Morning at NYU-London and a Visit to Dr. Johnson’s House

Oct17

Monday, October 17, 2016

London

Early Morning Accomplishments:

If you can believe it, I awoke at 4. 30 am today and simply could not go back to sleep. After 20 minutes, I gave up the effort and switched on my laptop. I would get some work done and catch up on Twitter–which has become an important source of news gathering for me. I also sent out some email messages and reviewed a few blog posts. Finally, I worked on my Italy itinerary. Since I have been invited to give a lecture at the University of Padua, I am using the occasion of my journey there to see a part of Italy I have not yet explored–the island of Sicily. Using Lonely Planet, I tried to identify some budget-priced accommodation that would work for me. Once my itinerary was in place, I began to send out email messages to the various towns and cities–Catania, Mount Etna, Toarmina and Syracusa–as those are all I will manage in the time at my disposal. Time flew as I sent my messages out. Hopefully, I will have all accommodation sorted in the next couple of days.

By 8. 30 am, I was calling my Dad and brother Russel in Bombay and catching up with them. About a half hour later, I decided to start getting ready for work. I organized my breakfast–coffee with muesli with honey yogurt–and then went in for a shower. Within 20 minutes, I’d got dressed and made myself a Stilton cheese sandwich for lunch. By 10. 15 am, more or less on schedule, I left my flat and set out for Bloomsbury.

A Working Morning in my Office:

I arrived at NYU at exactly 11.00 am and I stayed there till 2.00 pm. There was proofing to be done of the final chapters of my book as I have an end-October deadline to get them to my publisher. I also had loads of tickets to print out–air tickets, Easybus tickets for journeys to and from London’s airport, itineraries. There was also a conference abstract that I had drafted over the weekend and sent out to the organizers. I have already received an acknowledgement for it and thought it best to print it all and file it away. Similarly, I printed out two more chapters of my book.

By 2.00 pm, I had finished proof reading both chapters and had printed out two more–one of which I carried home with me to work on through the evening and another of which I left in my office to work on tomorrow. I also ate my sandwich and prepared my packaged soup and feeling quite ready to face the next part of my day, I left our campus and moved on.

Off to Dr. Johnson’s House at Holborn:

It has been about 30 years since I visited Dr. Johnson’s House in Holborn for the first and last time. As a grad student who had only very recently been inspired by the life and work of Dr. Samuel Johnson through one of my professors at Elphinstone College in Bombay, Dr. Homai Shroff, whose Ph.D. dissertation was on the greatest writer of the 18th century, I had made a pilgrimage to his home. I remember enjoying the visit then…but, as in the case, of every place that I am re-visiting now, I realize how fully I relish these forays, how deeply engrossed I become and how easily I am able to relate to the history and complexity of the times that are being portrayed because my knowledge and understanding of these periods is now so much more profound.

And so it was with 17 Gough Court where Dr. Samuel Johnson lived for a good part of his life, initially with his wife, Elizabeth whom he knew as Tetty and then for years as a cantankerous widower in the company of a black manservant called Francis Barber who had arrived in England from Jamaica where he had been a slave.

As one of the most prolific of all English writers, Dr. Johnson worked day and night–a never-ending list of ‘pot boilers’–that were literally written to keep his pot boiling (meaning: to put food on the table). He wrote reviews, essays, literary and theater criticism and, famously, a novel in a single week. His output was immense.

Given that he dodged poverty all his life, I was actually quite astonished to find out that the house is a handsome building with four floors–all of which were occupied by him and his family members. The visitor pays 6 pounds for the privilege of entering the home and perusing the rooms that are very well curated by a series of laminated handouts that give details about the use to which it would have been put in Johnson’s time as well as the art work and furniture to be found within.

There was a film crew in the ‘Parlor’ when I arrived but they left about a half hour later. Meanwhile, I walked through the Dining Room (which is now the Reception Room) into the Entry Hallway which has a barred window above the main door (to prevent thieves from inserting children through them to commit the robberies. There is also a heavy chain across the main door (another form of security) with a twisted corkscrew arm on one side to prevent rods being inserted through the windows to detach them. It was fascinating to see how these elements of domestic security have been retained. For Johnson, who was perpetually broke, a break-in would have been disastrous. Hence, the multiple precautions.

In the Parlor, Johnson would have received visitors–he had many literary contemporaries with whom he was friendly (for example, Oliver Goldsmith) and his publishers who visited him at home. It was in this room that he would take tea for Johnson was a prodigious tea-drinker and was known to consume as many as 20 cups at one sitting. There is a beautiful porcelain tea service that belonged to a friend of his, a Mrs. Thrale, in a glass cabinet on view. Copies of oil portraits of Johnson by his friend, the renowned 19th century portraitist, Sir Joshua Reynolds, are to be found in each room above the fireplaces (of which there is one in each room as the fireplace was the only source of heat in the rooms). The Parlor was also where members of London’s Fire Fighting Auxiliary took tea in the years when the house was being restored after severe bombing damage in World War II. They were provided tea by the care-taker of the home, a Mrs. Rowell, whose daughter ended up marrying one of them in the Church of St. Bartholomew in Smithfield followed by a reception for a hundred people in Dr. Johnson’s House.

Besides the fireplace in the Parlor is the little cupboard in which wigs would have been powdered with white or grey powder as was the fashion in the 18th century among both men and women. Johnson, as did all public personalities, was never seen without a wig.

On the first floor (American second) is the room that Johnson used as a bedroom and another used by his housekeeper, Mrs. Williams. On the floor above it is his Library–a really interesting room that showcases the eclectic collection of books he owned. All of them were sold soon after he died, but with careful attempts, many of them are being tracked down at auctions and returned to the home. Naturally, there is a full set of the famous Dictionary that he took 9 years to write in this home with the help of a number of assistants as well as a complete set of the many volumes of his Lives of the Poets. A copy of the first edition of the Dictionary is also on display. Johnson’s closest friend and associate was James Boswell and, in his company, Johnson spent endless hours. After Johnson’s death, Boswell produced a biography of his friend called Life of Johnson that has remained continually in print since the late 18th century. Most of Boswell’s works are also in the library. Above the mantelpiece is another oil portrait of Johnson.

At the very top of the house is the Garrett–a long room (far brighter than I had imagined garrets to be) in which the actual work on the Dictionary was undertaken at a very long center table at which a number of assistants would have worked under Johnson’s supervision. There is one oil painting in this room that is really moving–it shows Johnson doing penance at a marketplace where he stands in the open as rain pours down on him. It was his way of making amends for the fact that he disobeyed his father who was a shop keeper in the market and did not help him to sell his wares when requested because pride held him back. In his later years, Johnson realized the selfishness of his refusal and decided to make up for it by undertaking self-atonement.

It is also interesting to see a brick from the Great Wall of China in a showcase on one of the floors. Johnson had a great interest in China (the country) as well as the china (porcelain) that it produced. This interest was enhanced by his love of tea which, in those days came to England, mostly from China. As a gesture of goodwill, it seems that the Chinese government have presetned the brick to Johnson’s House as he had often expressed the desire to travel to China and to walk on its Great Wall.

It is also interesting to see a brick from the Great Wall of China in a show case in the house. Johnson had a great interest in China, the country, as well as the china (porcelain) that it produced. This interest was enhanced by his love of tea which, in those days, came to England mostly from China. As a gesture of goodwill, it seems that the Chinese government have presented the brick to Johnson’s House as he had often talked about having a desire to travel to China to walk upon its Great Wall.

It is also interesting to see a brick from the Great Wall of China in a show case in the house. Johnson had a great interest in China, the country, as well as the china (porcelain) that it produced. This interest was enhanced by his love of tea which, in those days, came to England mostly from China. As a gesture of goodwill, it seems that the Chinese government have presented the brick to Johnson’s House as he had often talked about having a desire to travel to China to walk upon its Great Wall.

It is also interesting to see a brick from the Great Wall of China in a show case in the house. Johnson had a great interest in China, the country, as well as the china (porcelain) that it produced. This interest was enhanced by his love of tea which, in those days, came to England mostly from China. As a gesture of goodwill, it seems that the Chinese government have presented the brick to Johnson’s House as he had often talked about having a desire to travel to China to walk upon its Great Wall.

In many ways, a visit to Johnson’s House offers insight into the hard work, dedication, ambition, perseverance and tenacity of the man. It enables us to understand his enduring love for Shakespeare (he wrote a criticism of all Shakespeare’s plays) and Milton and for the written word in general. He courted friendships with Shakespearean stage actresses whose work he admired at a time when they were thought of as no better than prostitutes. He paid his assistants well although never well endowed himself. But his greatest example of compassion was revealed in the relationship he created with the former slave Barber whom he employed to run his home and to whom he willed a very generous Endowment. A copy of his Will hangs in its entirely in one of the rooms and we see how equitably he thought of all human beings and how well he treated them irrespective of their skin color or race. ]

We learn that he was a sickly man, overweight (because he loved food too much and did not eat in moderation), plagued by gout and someone who fought depression all his life. In fact, he was often on the brink of a complete mental breakdown as was his friend Boswell (who had his first breakdown at the age of 17). We realize that, in the end, it was a series of strokes that left him with severe facial ticks and a speech impediment and ultimately, took his life.

But what a life! Truly, any writer can take inspiration and courage from Johnson’s life–for he teaches us that there is no such thing as Writer’s Block and that genius is 99 percent perspiration and one percent inspiration! He brought a new meaning to the word ‘prolific’ and I have to say that  I, for one, was deeply moved by my entire ‘experience’ of this house–far more than I can remember being when I was a grad student. Johnson is the second most frequently quoted writer after Shakespeare and he is the source of one of my favorite quotes of all time: “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life itself!” Hear, hear!

Outside, in the courtyard, I paused by the sculpture of Dr. Johnson’s cat, Hodge, of whom he was very fond and who was so indulged that towards the end of his life all he ever ate were oysters!  I took a few pictures of the exterior of the house and left the courtyard.

Walking through Holborn on my Way Back:

I got out of Dr. Johnson’s Gough Court and found myself on Fetter Lane from where I emerged on to High Holborn. It was part of the Dickens’ London Walk that I had started a few days ago and which I decided to complete. It took me to Barnard’s Inn (not a hostel–just another courtyard) where the famous Gresham Lectures are held, free of charge for the public and into Staple Inn, the only Elizabethan house that survived the Great Fire of London. It’s handsome black half-timbered façade leads you to another picturesque courtyard at the back and a very pretty second courtyard filled with late-summer roses and petunias. Out of Staple Lane, I got back on to High Holborn and disappeared down the stairwell of the Chancery Lane Tube Station from  where I took a Central Line train straight home to Ealing. It is always a pleasure to be in my former stomping ground–Holborn–but I was too tired to linger.

I stopped at Morrison’s on my walk home to pick up a few groceries and then put the kettle on for a cup of tea which I had with two pistachio biscuits and the last of a chocolate éclair. While I sipped and munched, I caught up on episodes of Cold Feet and then stopped to type this blog post.

It is now time for dinner to which I am looking forward as I shall watch another episode of Cold Feet and then get ready for bed. Tomorrow, I will probably proof read the chapter I have carried home with me–but for the moment, I have had a full and productive day and feel entitled to some more down time!

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Exploring Ealing with Barbara and Bus Ride to Kingston

Oct17

Sunday, October 16, 2016

London

Up and About Before Dawn:

I was awake by 5.30 am, I read Twitter till 6. 30 am, then I drafted a blog post and checked and responded to email. I also put together my itinerary for my forthcoming trips to Europe in November. I then booked Easybus tickets to get from Victoria to the airports and back. It is amazing how much time all this takes.  This has pretty much become my routine movements of the morning but today, there was a slight difference. Since it was Sunday, I intended to get to Mass. Plus I had plans to meet with my former Holborn neighbor and friend Barbara who was sweet enough to come to Ealing so that we could explore my new neighborhood together. It was about 9.00 am when I got out of bed to wash and have a bit of breakfast–toast with peanut butter, Nutella and Philadelphia Cream Cheese and coffee.

Off to Mass at the Church of Christ the Savior:

I left my house at 10.25 am for the 10.30 am Mass at the church which is literally one block away from my house. It is a beautiful church–Victorian Gothic, rich with exterior details that are appealing and attractive and equally rich inside with all sorts of sculptural and painted embellishments. There is a lovely huge stained glass window of the Risen Christ with an extraordinarily handsome, unbearded face, a very nice choir screen with the cross and twin figures flanking it (a common feature in many Anglican churches) and wonderful paintings on the ceiling, the side walls, plus many Gothic sculpted saints to keep one’s eye fascinated.

The Mass was well-attended. However, there were so many children that it was a very noisy service. It was a Sung High Mass with loads of incense and hymns of which all six verses were (badly) sung to the accompaniment of an organist who seriously needs some music lessons! Of all the services I have attended over the last two months, this has to have been the least satisfying. Although the children disappeared for Sunday School before the Readings began, they returned before Communion and the noise began again. What’s worse is that I saw grown adult women have a long and endless gossip session in the lines on their way to Communion, lots of hello waves and flamboyant kisses being given by members of the congregation as they made their way to the front to receive the Eucharist. I have never seen anything quite like this kind of socialization in the middle of Mass absolutely anywhere. It was shocking, disturbing and made the Mass very unruly. I will not be going back to that church–that’s for sure. That said, the very young curate preached an excellent sermon on the power of prayer and the ways in which we ought to pray. I learned a whole lot from it.

Back home, I barely settled down for just a few minutes when I got an email from Barbara to say that she was just about to board a Tube train at Chancery Lane. In about 45 minutes, she would be with me. I tidied my home in readiness for her arrival, folded and put away my laundry, then soon found myself greeting her at my front door. Barbara was my very first visitor and it was a real pleasure to welcome her in my new home. Naturally, I gave her a tour and then, as the sun had come out after what had been a very wet morning, we decided to take advantage of it and go out to discover my neighborhood.

A Lovely Stroll in Ealing:

As I have not had much time to explore my own neighbo0rhood, I was delighted to have Barbara for company. We took a random street right off Haven Green and walked up admiring the beautiful Victorian houses with their period details. Autumn is well and truly here and trees are shedding their leaves like golden confetti. There are tinges of red, orange and fiery yellows on every tree and crackling leaves underfoot–nothing, of course, compared to the glory of our New England autumn season…but this is bringing to mind the beautiful sugar maples in my back garden that are probably beginning to change color at this moment.

I told Barbara then about a sign I’d been seeing outside Ealing Broadway Station for the Pitzhanger Manor–and we decided to go out in search of it. Following a map on Broadway, we headed towards it but as it was already about 1.15 pm, we made a detour for lunch and chose to eat at Carluccio’s, the delicious Italian chain of restaurants to which Barbara and her husband Tim had first introduced me about nine years ago when we ate lunch together at the Carluccio’s at Smithfield Meat Market in Central London.

Lunch at Carluccio’s:

Well, we were seated very quickly in the eatery that we found at Ealing Green–and in the process of making our way to it, I realized yet again what a fabulous neighborhood I now have the privilege of living in–it is simply filled with shops and restaurants and bars and pubs that give it such a lovely warm neighborhood feel–almost like a little friendly village in the midst of the city.

When it came time to order, we both went for the Italian Peroni beer and while Barbara had the Spaghetti Carbonara, I had the Lasagna Traditonalle. My portion was huge and I ate just half of it with the intention of packing the rest up to take home for a future meal. You see, I needed to save room for dessert because I knew that no meal at Carluccio’s with Barbara or Tim is complete without a Lemon (Citron) Tart at the end for pudding. And that was precisely what we ordered and what we enjoyed–a  crisp tart shell and a tart creamy filling. It is a dessert also to which they had introduced me and which I never fail to enjoy.

Off to Find Pitzhanger Manor..and Stumbling Upon Walpole Park:

When we’d cleared our bill, we set off in search of the Pitzhanger Manor and discovered that it was being refurbished in a major project that will see completion only in 2018! Hard Luck indeed! But we also made the discovery that the house was designed by none other than the chap I am coming to think of as an old friend, Sir John Soane! Yes, he of the John Soane House and Museum in Holborn that I had visited only a few days ago! Soane designed it in the Neo-Classical style for which he is famous with straight severe lines, one half of the classical columns facing outward and classical maidens adorning the pediments of each of the pillars. We knew this from the pictures that surround the fence that encloses the property. Ah, too bad, we thought. We must come back together in 2018 and see how it looks in its new avatar.

Then, just around a corner, as we continued our walk, we chanced to come upon the gates of a park and, on impulse, stepped inside it. And what a lovely walk we had amidst its wide acreage! The park was park of the property that one would see from the back windows of the Pitzhanger House that had, apparently, been designed for the Walpole Family. It has been bequeathed to the people of Ealing and is, therefore, known as Walpole Park. It had everything you could desire in a park–a lovely avenue of plane trees, a serpentine (lake), a duck pond (complete with colorful mallards), a bridge (in the style of John Vanbrugh’s Blenheim Bridge at Blenheim Palace) over a brook, plenty of well-kept lawns filled with ecstatic dogs and their happy owners, lovely children’s playgrounds with sand pits and sliders, swings, see-saws, etc. and well-defined walking pathways. The day turned out to be simply gorgeous after all and it was a perfect way to spend an afternoon. No wonder the park was fairly full.

Back Home for Tea:

Having received our exercise for the day, we found our way back to my flat past Ealing Town Hall (a very handsome building in golden stone) and the new residential development that is coming up right outside the Tube station and adjoining the church. Once home, I put the kettle on and we sat and chatted some over a cup of tea and carrot cake with pistachio biscuits and Tunnock’s Tea Cakes. But since we had just eaten a big and very late lunch, all we did was nibble at tiny pieces of cake. By 4. 30, Barbara got ready to leave and I was very sorry to see her go as I do not know when I will see her next.

On the Bus to Kingston:

I decided to leave my flat and walk Barbara to the Tube station, but I also decided that since the evening was still so bright and the light so pretty, I would take a bus ride to Kingston. There was a 65 bus waiting right at the station stop and into it, I jumped. It turned out to be a most delightful ride–there was a time when I was a little girl in Bombay when my parents often took us for bus rides on a Saturday or Sunday. Alas, horrible traffic in Bombay put paid to such simple pleasures–so it was nice to be able to revive them and take a bus ride just for the sheer joy of it.

The bus route was lovely–we went past Ealing and towards Kew. In fact, we rode alongside the famous Kew Gardens and I could see the tops of the glass greenhouses and, later on, the Pagoda for which it is famous. Further along the route, we passed by wide parkland as we arrived hear the Thames at Teddington and then we were in the snazzy town of Richmond. We did not go towards Twickenham (which would require crossing the Thames on Richmond Bridge), but went straight toward Kingston. A few minutes later, we were there and at the last stop, I hopped off. It was then almost 6.00 pm and twilight was darkening the city quite rapidly. Besides, since it was a Sunday, all the shops had closed and there wasn’t much to see on foot. So I just sat at the bus stop opposite and jumped into a bus going back to Ealing where I reached at 6. 30 pm. It was a really impulsive but very satisfying outing and I felt very pleased that I had seen some of the more beautiful Thames-sides’ hamlets that I dearly love.

Back home, I got back to the itinerary planning I had begun in the morning and booked my ticket to get from Catania in Sicily to Padua where I will be giving a guest lecture. I was pleased to get a good price on a Ryanair flight and with that done, I continued watching the Lewis episode that I left half watched last evening. I finished writing this blog post and then got ready for dinner as I was quite famished by this point. I ate the last of the Lamb Korma from Tayyabs that I had frozen with a cup of tomato soup and chocolate ice-cream for dessert and while I ate, I caught up on past episodes of Cold Feet.

I had a very nice weekend indeed. It was one in which I managed to catch up on a lot of items on my To-Do List and although I haven’t managed to accomplish all of them, as Scarlett O’Hara said, Tomorrow Is Another Day.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Catching Up At Home While Chained to my PC

Oct16

Saturday, October 15, 2016

London

Waking Routine:

I still lament the fact that I cannot get more than five hours of unbroken sleep–an adrenaline high, perhaps? At any rate, even though I wake by 5. 30, I do spent at least an hour on Twitter–not posting, but reading tweets from around the world that keep me up with the news. For example, this morning, I found a link to the stirring speech that Michelle Obama gave on the campaign trail in New Hampshire pertaining to Trump’s attitudes towards women. I listened to it in its entirety and before I knew it, I was almost an hour into catching up with Twitter.

Next, I drafted out a post for my blog–as I am trying hard to catch up and keep it current–and I finally finished all my Eastern Europe posts. Email next. Responding to people who’ve sent me invitations to lunch or dinner was very gratifying. The Brits are being extremely hospitable to me and almost once a week, I find myself enjoying someone’s generosity.

By the time I got a text from my landlord Stuart saying that he needed to come in to fix handles on the laundry cupboard, it was almost 9.00 am and I figured I better arise from my bed and meet the day. But before I did that, I made a To-Do List of all the things I needed to do and before I knew it, I had to abandon all thoughts of going out and enjoying a Saturday of glorious sunshine as I simply had too much to get done. It would be a day to spend at home, chained to my PC–which was just as well as my feet could certainly do with the rest after being seriously overworked during my trip to Cambridge.

Stuart did arrive at about 9. 45 when I put my brekkie together–honey yogurt with fruit and nut muesli and decaff coffee–I offered him a cup but he said he had just eaten his breakfast. He got to work while I ate and watched some TV–I love a TV program called Come Dine With Me–I watched re-runs. Breakfast done, Stuart was on the way out and I returned to work. Since  I would be spending the day indoors, I decided to do my laundry and got the machine running. While it hummed, I returned to my bed (my preferred place to work for at least the last 15 years although it is terrible for my back) and caught up with my blog. That took me to almost noon when I stopped to lay my washing out to dry on the stainless steel wrack in the house.

I took a break to speak on the phone to my friend Bina and to send out a few texts and email messages to friends in London whom I have not yet seen and whom I would like to meet before I leave. Their responses poured in instantly and interacting with them made me feel as if I had good company even while I was alone at home.

Working on Future Travel Plans:

Steadily and slowly, I tackled my To-Do List which also included making arrangements for future travel–tickets needed to be booked, itineraries needed to be drafted, accommodated needed to be reserved. I stopped for lunch at 1. 30 pm (a blue cheese sandwich on multi-seeded bread with a cup of soup) and then got right back to work.

I have an invited lecture to give at the University of Leeds in early November–so that was my first priority as I booked tickets and looked for sights close to Leeds that I could cover. I would dearly have loved to see Hill Top, the home of Beatrix Potter in the Lake District (which I had somehow managed to miss the last time I was there with Llew and Chriselle); but I discovered that there is no direct route from Leeds up north–one has to go via Manchester and the entire journey takes about 7 hours!

Since this was not feasible, I turned my sights to visiting another place I have long wanted to see–Chatsworth House, the home of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. It turned out to be much more easily accessible from Leeds via Sheffield. So I went ahead and made my bookings on National Express coaches with my Road Map of the UK spread out before me, my calendar at the side of me and all sorts of travel sites open on my PC. In-between, as I was using a new credit card, my payments would not go through–and I had to switch to using another one. All this ate terribly into my time and before I knew it, 6.00 pm was looming.

I had a long Facetime chat with Llew, Lalita and the children in Southport and then decided to have a very late cup of tea with carrot cake and a biscuit. It provided the sustenance I needed before I went in for a very late shower. My routine of the morning had been disturbed by Stuart’s arrival and stay in my flat. Deeply refreshed, I returned to my PC for more work–this time creating an itinerary for Llew and my travels in the Holy Land in mid-November followed by our motoring tour around France, followed by my stay in Paris for a week.

As you can imagine, it was never ending and drafting email messages (in French) for my friends in France to inform them of our imminent travels also took a lot of time. I did not even manage to get anywhere near creating an itinerary for my travels in Italy in mid-November (as I have been invited to give a lecture at the University of Padua)–this time is still on my To-Do List and will be tackled tomorrow. After I had put down all travel timings in an itinerary, it was almost 9.00 pm and I decided to take a dinner break and watch Lewis on ITV3–which I did. Dinner was ravioli in a creamy bottled tomato sauce with a cup of soup and a Tunnock’s Tea Cake for dessert. I enjoyed the show but could not keep my eyes open after 10. 30–so I shall have to catch the end of it on my laptop.

It was about 11.00 pm when I finally switched my light off after brushing and flossing my teeth.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Visiting the Handel-Hendrix House and Getting to Know New Friends Over Dinner at Acton

Oct15

Friday, October 14, 2016

London

Morning Chores:

I am awaking later than I like these days–this means that I do not have as much time to finish all the things I want to do before it is time for me to get down to work. Still, that said, I read through my email, got a bit of the world’s news through Twitter, drafted one blog post and then sat down to make a call to my Dad in Bombay that went on for almost half an hour. With only enough time to wolf down my cereal and coffee, I rushed in for a shower and left my home on schedule at 10.15 am exactly as I had wished to do.

Meeting at NYU:

I arrived at NYU at exactly 11.00 am just in time for the Research Fellows’ meeting with Eric and Ruth that took place on schedule over tea and coffee and lovely biscuits. We did have a lot to talk about and meeting with the other Fellows is always an opportunity for me to get to know some of them better. It went on till 12 noon when Ruth had to excuse herself and the meeting ended. I rushed off to my office to print out two chapters of my book that I now need to get down to proof reading and revising in order to get the manuscript off to my publishers by the end of this month which is my deadline.  With those chapters safely in my bag (I intend to work on them over the weekend at home), I left NYU’s Bedford Square campus–but just before I did, I picked up mail from my pigeon hole and found that my MasterCard that Llew had mailed me had arrived from the US. I did not open it–just stuffed in my bag and ran to keep my next appointment.

Meeting Raquel in the Handel-Hendrix House on Brook Street:

My next appointment was at 12.45 pm with my friend Raquel who had the afternoon off and offered to do something fun with me. We mutually decided to visit the Handel-Hendrix House on Brook Street in Mayfair as neither one of us had been there before. As the day pass by and I get bogged down by work and then have to leave London to travel, I am trying to see all the items on my To-Do List that still require perusing. This place was one of them and Raquel was keen to cover it with me.

The entrance to the twin houses is steep–10 pounds per head (but then these small museums rarely receive public funding). I arrived about ten minutes before Raquel and together, we bought our tickets and entered through a very narrow door on Brook Street that could so easily go unnoticed (unless you are as astute about London sightseeing as I am).

The cool part about this place is that for years it used to be the Handel House Museum.  The composer George Frederick Handel had taken rooms in this house in Mayfair in the late 17th century and had lived here and composed quite a few of his best-known works. It was the house in which he rehearsed many of the leading sopranos of his day and in which many leading composers and musicians such as John Gay, composer of The Beggar’s Opera, had come to meet him.

I had never been to this place although it had been on my To-Do List for quite a while. What moved it higher on the list was that it was recently opened as the Handel-Hendrix House, a couple of years ago–for the American musician and guitarist Jimi Hendrix just happened to have rented out the house next door–literally separated by a common wall and 300 years of history! Friends of the Handel House had been trying for years to acquire the Hendrix House and to join the two together as a museum–and when this happened it became a magnet for modern rock music lovers around the world–who come for Hendrix and stay for Handel. Or vice versa, of course.

The Handel House is rather Spartan–as might be expected. There are three floors that showcase his parlor and composing room on one floor, his bedroom on the next together with a shop. In this part of the house, there are many portraits of Handel, a sculpted bust of him as well as portraits of his contemporaries–other musicians and public figures of the day. His bedroom has been retained in the way it would have been in his lifetime although none of the furniture is actually his own (everything was sold soon after he passed away). There are also a few contemporary harpsichords and spinnets in the house to give an idea of the kind of instruments on which Handel composed.

On the third floor, one enters into the Hendrix part of the house. This house was rented by Hendrix after he arrived in London in the mid-1960s and took up residence in it with his then girlfriend Kathy Etchingham. Having done rather poorly during the early years of his career in the States, Hendrix was heard by a British musician who thought him to be the finest guitarist ever. He referred Hendrix to his British friend who then decided to become Hendrix’s manager provided he moved to London. Hendrix did so–and his career simply took off as the Brits embraced his talent in a way his own countrymen had not.

In the house at Brook Street, Hendrix lived in harmony with Kathy, visited by many contemporary musicians including George Harrison who often crashed in the adjoining room after a few hours of hard party-ing. The place was furnished and decorated by Kathy and reflects the taste of the hippie generation: bright colors, wildly patterned cushions and rugs, feathers, mirrors, jazzy fringed lamps. There is also a vast collection of LP records that he owned and which he often bought from the neighboring Oxford Street stores. Hendrix made wonderful music in this space and worked on several of his hit records while living here.

Memorabilia from the Hendrix era is far more interesting and colorful and can leave one absorbed for a couple of hours. His record collection that embraced the works of artistes as varied as Bob Dylan, Ravi Shankar, the Beatles and Handel’s own works are all on display. In fact, Hendrix was tickled to know that Handel had lived next door to him, 300 years previously, and because he had never heard Handel’s music, he went out and bought a few of his records! You walk through the bedroom and into the record room as well as the main hallway where there are pictures, quotes and the like to liven one’s visit. There is also a short movie to watch with clips from Hendrix’s musical career which allows one to get a taste of his music. We spent a lot of time in this space and thoroughly enjoyed walking down Memory Lane probably because Hendrix’s journey towards stardom happened in our own lifetime.

There are frequent concerts in this space for which one needs to check the schedule–however, all of these required paid tickets.

Lunch at The South Audley Pub:

It was about 2. 30 pm when we left the house and I was starving–Raquel had eaten lunch before leaving home while I was surviving on biscuits from our coffee meeting. She wanted to take me to a cute glass café on the rooftop of a neighboring building, but she could not find it. Instead, we wandered around Mayfair actually passing by the US Embassy on Mount Street and the sculptures of Roosevelt and Reagan before arriving at The South Audley Pub where she had a pot of tea and I had one of their small plates: a delicious portion of Mac and Cheese made superlative by all the gooey Gruyere cheese in it. It provided Raquel and me a chance to catch up and have a lovely long natter and make plans for future meetings.

Not too long after, we said goodbye and I realized that the credit card I had received needed to be activated before I could use it. I could not use my UK cell phone for international calls (even if they are toll free) and so I decided to go back to my office at NYU to make the call. I jumped into a bus that took me to Marble Arch and from there into a Tube to get off at Tottenham Court Road. I made the call, stayed for precisely ten minutes and left. For some reason, I felt tired–possibly because of all my activity of the previous day in Cambridge!

Back Home and Then Off For Dinner:

I stopped at Sainsbury to buy a dessert (Mandarin Orange Cheesecake) for the family that had invited me to dinner. By the time I got home, it was 5. 45 and I thought I had enough time to brew a nice pot of tea and eat a couple of biscuits before leaving for my next appointment–for I had been invited to her home for dinner  by a lady I had met only two days ago on the Tube–if you can believe it! We got talking and somehow decided that we should meet again. She gave me her email address and then, before I knew it, she was inviting me to her home for dinner! It turns out that she lives in Acton, not too far from my place–and so I accepted the invitation very graciously.

At 7.00 pm I left my home for my 7. 30 dinner with Ami and her family. During the evening, we actually got to know a lot more about each other. It turns out that Ami is originally from Bombay and that she met her husband Raj while they were both students at LSE–as they say her, while they were “at uni”. They were married 25 years ago and have 2 young boys–whom I also had the pleasure of meeting.

Ami and Raj live in a gorgeous home that they built a couple of years ago and only moved into fully early this year. It is a beautiful modern home gloriously furnished. Over a superb home cooked meal that included Tilapia Fish Curry, Mushroom Curry, Palak Paneer, Rice, Parathas, Salad and Pickle, I had myself a great meal with white wine to sip through it. They had also invited another one of their LSE classmates called Anuj (Ticks) who was from Nigeria too and who was also fun to be with. Conversation flowed easily as they talked about their transnational and transcontinental path to the UK–from India and Uganda to Nigeria to London via New York where, for a while, Ami worked as an investment banker. Today, they run their own business in property acquisition from Central London and are looking at putting their sons through university while thinking about their next move.

I thoroughly enjoyed myself with this lovely couple who made me feel so warmly welcomed into their home and who embraced me with a tremendous sense of hospitality–something I truly appreciate being so far away from my own home and loved ones. I have to admit that fatigue was getting the better of me by the end of the evening when I actually felt myself drop off a couple of times–much to my chagrin!

At the end of the evening, Anju dropped me off in his car to West Acton Tube station from where, five minutes later, I hopped into a train that took me home in 10 minutes. Tired and determined to take it easy for the next couple of days, I got into bed in 10 minutes and fell fast asleep.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

The Magnificence of Ely Cathedral and Visiting the Village of Grantchester

Oct15

Wednesday, October 13, 2016

Cambridge-Ely-Grantchester

Waking and Wondering:

Fort the first few minutes, when I awoke in my giant four-poster bed in the Parlor Room in the Fellows’ Wing at Trinity College, Cambridge, I actually wondered where I was! Then, when it slowly dawned on me, I sighed and lay back and savored the next few seconds. It is blissful–to have this deep sense of contentment that comes from gratitude–gratitude for the incredible opportunities that have brought me to this place and enabled me to participate in its special privileges.

Not too much later, I hopped out of bed and got ready for a shower. The clock on the Tower Gateway leading to the Chapel in the Main Quadrangle of Trinity chimed 8.00 am. There was no time to waste as I wanted to cover a lot of ground. My coach back to London was scheduled to leave Cambridge at 5.00 pm–I had better get a move-on.

After I showered, I packed all my belongings into my little overnight bag, made sure I had left nothing behind, locked the door of my room behind me, and left down the beautiful narrow corridor (once the servants’ quarter, no doubt) to the lower floors along a gorgeous dark wood broad staircase with its dazzling brass chandelier (very American colonial) to the Fellows’ Dining Hall. This was still empty but I could hear sounds of clattering crockery and low voices from the floor below. This was the Dining Hall and it was here that I would eat a splendid breakfast.

Breakfast in Trinity College Dining Hall:

Trinity College Dining Hall is presided over by a giant portrait of Henry VIII. its founded, gazing forbiddingly at the diners below–in the manner of the famed portrait by Hans Holbein.  By his side are his daughters Mary Tudor and Elizabeth. The sides of the Hall are filled with portraits of its Masters through the ages–with Nobel economist Amartya Sen very easily discernible.

I placed my bags down on the floor at one of the long tables where dozens of students were already eating hungrily and made my way to the ‘Servery’ where I decided to have a Full English Breakfast–fried egg (although I do not eat a runny yolk), sausages, bacon, grilled mushrooms and tomato, hash browns and instead of toast, I picked up a croissant with butter. The steward very gallantly offered me a glass of OJ and with it, I took my tray out to the Hall where I helped myself to coffee and condiments. It was all very orderly and as I tucked into my brekkie, I contemplated my plans for the day ahead. They would take some ingenuity on my part as I wished to see and do a lot in very little time. So without lingering too long over brekkie, although I would dearly have liked to stay in such august surroundings, I reluctantly stashed my tray and other paraphernalia and left.

I then left my bag behind in the storage cupboard in the Porter’s Lodge at Trinity and made my way on foot to the Drummer Street Bus Station to take a bus to Ely (pronounced ‘Eelee’), the little town about 40 miles away from Cambridge and home to one of the UK’s most spectacular cathedrals.

On the Train to Ely:

Except when I got the bus station, I discovered that the next bus was about 25 minutes later and that it took about 50 minutes to get to Ely. Well… I did not have that kind of time to lose…so I made a lightning decision to try the railway station instead. Taking directions again from a very kind man who actually escorted me to the stop, I found a bus that would take me to  Cambridge Train Station (as it is quite out of the way from the main city buildings). There I found a train leaving in just 10 minutes that  would arrive in Ely in 15 minutes–so it was a win-win situation all around and for a return journey of 4.50 pounds, off I went hurtling into the Cambridgeshire countryside. I marveled at the fallow fields I passed and the little villages that dotted them with a lone church spire rising occasionally to announce Christian habitation.

Arrival at Ely and Visit to the Cathedral:

Once I arrived at Ely station, I asked for directions and went off on foot to find the Cathedral.  It was actually pretty easy to find as the spires of the cathedral tower above the city. A girl at the station pointed me in the right direction uphill and, in about 15 minutes, I was at the Cathedral Close. But before I got to the main door, I was struck by its architecture which is rather different from most English cathedrals. Instead of pointed spires, for instance, it has rounded ones–several of them. The Sculptural decoration on the outside is noteworthy for its complexity and I was repeatedly struck by it. Adjoining the cathedral is the Old Palace of Ely which was once occupied by the powerful Bishops of Ely–today it is a local parochial school.

You go through a very old small wooden door to enter the cathedral which, in the West Wing, completely dwarfs you by its soaring ceiling in which the figure of Christ is beautifully painted. Then, as you go deeper into the long Nave, you are struck by a most unusual ceiling–different from anything I have seen in any other cathedral. It is entirely painted with depictions of the prophets and scenes from the Bible in a Medieval style which looks surprisingly fresh and new–this probably has to do with more recent refurbishments. There is a lovely sliding mirrored table that the visitor can wheel along the Nave in order to see the paintings reflected in it (they have a similar contraption at Banqueting House in London to enable one to admire the grand painted ceiling by Rubens). I paused to take a close look at those paintings without straining my neck.

Past the Nave, the visitor arrives at the most architectural fascinating part of the Cathedral–the Octagon. You will need to raise your neck to gaze at the eight-sided ceiling–a combination of wood and stone–to take it its finely painted interior that glows in rather unusual colors for a cathedral–soft pinks, blues and apricots. It is absolutely beautiful and but for the threat of getting a crick in your neck, you will want to gaze at it forever. On either side of the Octagon are two more Wings–that imitate the shape of a cross: these have stunning timbered ceilings that are (again, most unusually) seemingly held up by superbly-painted angels with a wide arm span. These are some of the features of the cathedral that make it completely different from any other that I have ever seen (and I have seen a whole host of them, over the years).

The Shrine of St. Etheldreda and the Lady Chapel:

Just past the Octagon, one goes through the Choir Screen (again, a masterpiece of Medieval metal craftsmanship) and passes by the beautifully carved choir stalls. Just past them, one encounters a little shrine that is given pride of place in the cathedral–it is the Shrine of St. Etheldreda who in 973 founded an abbey on the site of the cathedral and spent her lifetime in holy activity despite enormous harassment from contemporary political forces. She is buried under the shrine and although it was once a very popular site of Christian pilgrimage, devotion to her seemed to have diminished in ferocity. St. Etheldreda’s Church at Ely Place at the end of High Holborn (near Holborn Circus) which was once my parish church when I lived in that part of London, is named after her as it was the Bishops from Ely who arrived in London in the 1100s to found the church that still carries her name.

I noticed closely the gilded reredos (altarpiece) by going really close to it and then took a side exit into one of the side aisles to admire the many funereal carvings, sarcophagi and sculpture that make Medieval cathedrals so atmospheric. I saw knights fully clothed in armor standing by their coffins, courtiers in full regalia leaning, almost seductively, against their own coffins, effigies of kings and queens and knights and their ladies lying down on top of theirs. On the floor, there are brass inlays (it is possible to get rubbings of any of these) and on the fan vaulted ceiling, there are bosses (carved stone disks that depict saints or Biblical symbols such as lilies, sheep, etc.). I skirted around the altar and walked over on the other side which was when I came across the Chapel to Our Lady.

Almost every Cathedral has its ‘Lady Chapel’ but this is the largest one in the UK. It is surrounded by intricate stone carvings that form individual seats for the prelates of the church. The sculpture of Our Lady itself in an unexpectedly modern one.

When  I emerged back in the Nave again, I knelt down to a say a prayer when a voice came over the PA system inviting all visitors to join in a few moments of prayers that were conducted by one of the canons. When they ended, movement across the cathedral continued again. Many people had arrived in small tour groups and they were receiving guided tours of the cathedral. Others signed up to take a Tower Tour which offered, I am sure, superb views of the surrounding countryside. There is a very good and very informative leaflet available at the entrance that one of the assistant hands out. With it, I was able to take a very good self-guided tour of the place.

Outside, the visitor can spend a great deal of time taking in what remains of the Cloister as well as the other medieval administrative buildings that are still in use by the clergy. I, however, did not have too much time to do this as I wished to take the 11. 52 train back from the station to Cambridge. However, before I left, I asked one of the assistants if she could tell me of any other significant places in Ely that I should not miss. She told me that right across the park from the Cathedral Close was the home of Oliver Cromwell and that it was open to visitors. So off I went in search of it.

Visiting Oliver Cromwell’s Home:

Oliver Cromwell, the puritan who called himself Lord Protector and overthrew the monarchy in 1642 to usurp the British throne, is one of those historical figures that the British do not seem to know whether to revere or revile. His rule lasted until 1660 when the political ‘Restoration’ brought King Charles II out of exile in France and re-established royal rule in the country.

His home in Ely is a lovely half-timbered cottage with stucco walls that have been turned into a museum. When I entered the place, I found that there is an entry fee and a guided house tour that goes with it. As I was the only person there, they would wait for a while before more visitors arrived to give the tour. In the meanwhile, I was invited to browse in the shop.

Of course, I did not have the time to do that and thanking the assistant, I left to walk briskly to the station to get my train back to Cambridge. I made it in good time, caught the 11. 52 to Stanstead “calling at” Cambridge which was the first stop and where I reached in 15 minutes. My next port of call was Grantchester Village and I had to find out exactly how to get there.

Trying to Find My Way to Grantchester:

I walked to the local bus station to find out if there was a local bus that would take me to Grantchester and was told that I would need to get to the City Center and take a bus from the Drummer Street Bus Station there. I was also advised to buy a Day Travelcard from the driver which would make my entire journey more economical.

There was nothing else to do but wait in an icy and very fierce wind that seemed to whip out of nowhere to torment passengers at the stop. Mercifully, the bus arrived in 10 minutes and I clambered on. At Drummer Street, I caught the 18 bus that then took me to Grantchester where, the driver said I would reach in about 15 minutes.

Why was I going to Grantchester? Well, for two reasons: when I was in the seventh standard in my convent school in Bombay, I had became aware of the poem by the war poet Rupert Brooke called ‘The Old Vicarage Grantchester’ which is simply filled with country images of Nature and folks who go about their lives in a kind of bucolic stupor. It has always stayed with me as did the final two lines of the poem: “Stands the church clock at ten to three/ And is there honey still for tea?” How could one not conjure up images of quiet happy serenity in the midst of crazy crowded Bombay, when reading those lines? Of course, I had no idea that Grantchester was a little village outside the university city of Cambridge and I think I really got to know that fact only very recently.

However, the second reason I chose to visit was because Llew and I have become fans of a detective TV show called Grantchester that is shown on PBS in the US. It features the Vicar of the parish church, Sidney Chambers(played by the handsome and brilliant James Norton), who gets involved in local murder mysteries which he helps solve with is friend, the local Inspector Geordie Keating (played by the handsome and brilliant Robson Greene). Set in the 1950s, the series of detective short stories was penned in the early 1900s by James Runcie. The idyllic village is very much a part of the series and local residents have often been invited to feature as extras in it.

I was keen to see the extent to which the village is accurately depicted and to find the source of Brooke’s great idealism. Hence, I thoroughly enjoyed the short bus ride that took me out of Cambridge and into the quiet country lanes and then country roads that led to Grantchester. A sweet lady told me where to get off and then pointed me in the direction of the church made famous by Brooke.

Discovering the Village of Grantchester:

I hopped out of the bus and turned a corner past one of  a set of lovely thatched roof cottages and found myself on the High Street. This really is a misnomer for the village could not be quieter or less low-key. You pass The Green Man pub and The Red Lion Inn (does not every village in the UK have a pub and an inn so-named?) and walk along the street towards the church whose tower you can see from the top of the street. All along are lovely period houses with stucco walls and rambling roses and country gardens filled with late-summer blooms.

The Church of St. Andrew and St. Mary sits quietly again with not a sound surroundings its grave yards except for the hum of an occasional car that travels up the lane. Its clock, a feature that every visitor comes to see, now strikes the correct hour (after recent repair and refurbishment). A lone gardener was working in one of the graveyards when I passed by the War Memorial that carries the name of Rupert Brooke who died in 1915 in the midst of World War I. His famous poem, however, was penned in 1912 when he was stationed at a hospital in Berlin and was seriously ill. There, hot, sweating and in a feverish stupor, his mind took him back to happier days, when as a student at Cambridge University, he had taken lodgings in the Old Vicarage. Those years were engraved in his mind as a supremely happy time. He recalled lilacs that bloomed in spring right outside his window as well as the vast number of other flowers, birds, meadows, etc. that surrounded the village. All these find a place in his glorious poem, a link to which is to be found here:

http://www.englishverse.com/poems/the_old_vicarage_grantchester

I entered the church and was struck by how dark it was. Few visitors had come on the day I arrived and, doubtless, there are plenty more during the summer. There are a lot of postcards and other tourist literature available at the entrance especially those proclaiming the role that the church is currently playing in the filming of the TV series. I knelt in prayer, then after a few minutes, toured the church to take in the varied features that do not make it much different from thousands of churches across the British Isles that sport similar features. Brooke died probably never knowing how firmly he had placed this church on the tourist and literary map. Once I left the church, I walked around the church yards (there are four of them) taking in grave stones that hail from several past centuries beginning with the 1600s.

I had a bus to take back to Cambridge in about a half hour (there is only one bus per hour after 1.00 pm) , so I did not have much time to waste as I tried to find The Old Vicarage that Brooke had depicted so well. Being that it was a vicarage, I expected it to be near the church,; but, in fact, from making inquiries of a couple that were walking past, I discovered that there was a house further down the lane and past a snaky curve that belonged to Lord Jeffrey Archer (yes, the novelist) with some sculptures in the front garden that was probably the Old Vicarage.

They also suggested I visit The Old Orchard Tea Room where there is a “museum”. They did not tell me that it was a museum dedicated to Rupert Brooke or I might have gone there. Still, it was good to pass by it and to know, from later reading, that they still serve honey and bread at tea-time (in a silent tribute to the poet). I must also say, at this point, that when I had read the poem as a 12 year old, I had assumed that the honey for tea referred to sweetening one’s tea with honey. I did not realize that it was a reference to spreading honey on bread to be eaten at tea-time! This, of course, is what the Old Orchard Tea Room offers–but I had no time to check it out.

I found the Old Vicarage and saw the lovely bronze sculpture of Rupert Brooke in the front garden, wearing his soldier’s garb, and looking ever like the idealistic young student who went gung-ho to World War I. I took pictures of the outside and of the gatepost that proclaims its literary antecedents–the Old Vicarage, it said.

Then, pleased as Punch that I had managed to accomplish all that I set out to do, I walked back up the High Street, nipped for a minute into Manor Farm that dates from the 1300s and belongs to King’s College, Cambridge, and then into The Green Man pub and The Red Lion Inn where recent filming of the Grantchester TV show has taken place. Just before I left, I walked behind the pub to get to the stile that leads to the Meadows and to the river where Sidney is often seen relaxing and picnicking with his lady love Amanda.

Grantchester was truly a delight to survey. It is these unexpected and impulsive forays that I make to places like these that make my stay and my travels in England so special and so significant. The bus trundled along on schedule and in I went for another lovely drive through the countryside to arrive at Cambridge.

Last Few Stops on a Whirlwind Tour of Cambridge:

By then it was about 2.45 and I had about an hour to see something else I had been meaning to cover–the Pepys Diaries in the Pepys Library at Magdalen (pronounced ‘Maudlin’) College. It was quite a bit of a walk from the Drummer Street bus station as Magdalen is one of those colleges that are outside the city center. However, the upside was that I got to pass right by the famous Round Church that I had never been inside or even seen before. I had no time to visit it, but I hurried on a bridge over the River Cam where dozens of punts were seen basking in the weak sunshine and entered the main entrance of Magdalen College where I followed signs that led to the Pepys Library–a rather plain looking but very elegant building that is jazzed up with tumbling baskets of bright fuschia.

Inspecting the Pepys Diaries in the Pepys Library at Magdalen College:

There is no fee to peruse the Pepys collection–a vast personal library of books that were bequeathed to the college by the famous 18th century diarist who so vividly documented The Great Fire of London in 1666. I entered it and was taken by the quietness and neatness of the space. A couple from America were the only other visitors and I believe the man was an academic whose work covers Pepys.

In addition to one of the volumes of Pepys’ Diaries (there are several of them)  that are kept open and has a page turned each day, there is a vast collection of original musical scores as Pepys was a great lover of music and spent a lot of money buying original Medieval and Renaissance scores. He was a singer and devoted several hours to his passion. The library is filled with oil portraits of Pepys done at various times in his life and of the interesting manuscripts that are part of his collection, including nautical ones associated with Henry VIII’s notorious ship, the Mary Rose and medieval artists’ sketching books of birds. It is all quite fascinating indeed and had I more time, no doubt, I would have lingered longer.

Back to the Bus for Journey Home to London:

I hurried back to Trinity College to pick up my bag from the Porter’s Lodge, bought a postcard from one of the souvenir shops and then arrived at the Green where National Express picks up and drops off passengers. Considering how much I had managed to cover in just two days, I was not amazed that I felt as if I had spent a week in Cambridge. I was early by half an hour but in 15 minutes, along came my bus and into it I jumped. I got the covered front seats and enjoyed my journey back to London as the evening gave way to twilight and darkness fell over the land.

In more ways than I can recount, my visit to Cambridge was marvelous and easily one of the most memorable experiences of my academic life. I felt deeply grateful to the Lord who has provided me with these sterling opportunities to garner memories that will dwell in my heart forever.

I reached Victoria at 8.00 pm and since I had eaten my sandwiches on the bus, I did not need to organize dinner when I got home at 8.30 pm. I had a bit of ice-cream, however, and fell fast asleep as I was quite wiped out by my excursions.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Cambridge, Here I Come! Lecture to Grad Students at Center of South Asian Studies.

Oct14

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

London-Cambridge:

I set my alarm for 6.00 am, but awoke at 5. 30 am–always happens when I am setting out on a trip (my body clock is better than any alarm clock!). This left me enough time to wash, get dressed (though not for a shower), prepare breakfast sandwiches (as well as sandwiches for lunch), tidy and settle my flat (there was a chance of it being shown to prospective tenants by realtors) and leave on schedule at 7.00 am for my 8. 30 am coach from Victoria to Cambridge–for yes, I was off to “The Other Place’ where I was invited to give a lecture to the grad seminar students at the Center of South Asian Studies by the dons from Trinity College. I felt honored and privileged–and all keyed up!

I arrived at Victoria at 8.00 am which left me adequate time to buy a coffee and board my coach. The journey was start and go all the way out of London (which took forever), plus I was seated right behind the driver in what, I thought, was a coveted place (except that he was in a non-stop conversation with a blind man who happened to have been a National Express coach driver and could not keep his mouth shut). He should know better, I thought, about distracting the driver with his constant chatter–but needless to say, the first chance I got (when the bus made a stop at Strafford in the East End), I changed places and went for some peace and quiet to the back of the bus as I had hoped, once again, to review my lecture and think about any possible questions it might provoke.

Given the terrible traffic delays leaving London, it is not surprising that we arrived in Cambridge 45 minutes behind schedule at 12 noon. Passengers waiting to board the coach for the return journey to London were tugging at the bit–and as I got off, I turned to a young black woman and asked her to point me in the direction of Trinity College where, I was told, a room had been reserved for me. Imagine my surprise when she told me that it was too complicated to explain and that she would run me there in her car as she had merely arrived to drop her friend off to the coach station. So, there was I, once again, getting a ride from a total, well-meaning stranger. We had a lovely chat together (she was called Malika and was from Guyana, a nurse at the local hospital) and fifteen minutes later, there I was.

Arrival at Trinity College:

Malika dropped me off at the Avenue of striking tall trees that go across the River Cam at The Backs and lead to one of the entrances to Trinity College. Naturally, since the sun had come out quite valiantly, I had to stop to take a couple of pictures of my first sight of visitors punting on the river and of one of the bridges of St. John’s College that was upstream. In two minutes, I was at the entrance and being escorted by one of the dapper, bowler-hatted porters who led me past the Tudor Quad and the Neville Court (which houses the famed Wren Library) and through antiquated wooden doors to arrive at the Main Quad where I could not help but gasp. He showed me the Porter’s Lodge under the main Gateway where I was expected to report to the Porter and pick up my room key.

Trinity College boasts the largest Cambridge College Quadrangle. It is focused around a beautiful ornate fountain that is surrounded by vivid red geraniums. As I walked by it, it could hear the musical lit of softly dripping water. I circled around it and walked under the grand Tudor Gateway with its sculpture of Henry VIII and women of the court and entered the Porter’s Lodge. There, sadly, I was told that check-in time was 2.00 pm–I had about an hour to kill, so I stashed my overnight bag in one of their cupboards for safekeeping and went out to discover the town.

Re-discovering Cambridge:

I had last been to Cambridge about eight years ago but I had rather vivid memories of that day. Apart from the fact that it was icily cold then, I did recall the wonders of the Fitzwilliam Museum that had been like a revelation to me as well as taking a walking tour of the colleges that had led me over the many milestone bridges over the Cam. This time, I intended to see parts of the town as well as parts surrounding it (as I would be staying overnight and had the whole of the next day to do my sightseeing). This time, however, I did not have a map–so my forays were haphazard. I went where the will took me and since it was past 1.00 pm (when  visitors are allowed inside) , I figured that the Wren Library of Trinity College would be the place at which I would start. So I retraced my steps through the Main Quad, past the little wooden door where the aromas of cooking and eating assailed my hungry nostrils (I would return to eat lunch here) as I was passing right by the ornate Dining Hall of the college. I entered it briefly to take a picture of it (a portrait of Henry VIII, its founder dominates it). Then I was hurrying through the cloisters of Neville Court to arrive at the Wren Library.

Perusing the Treasures of the Wren Library:

The Wren Library is so-called because it was designed by Sir Christopher Wren. It has a simple, almost plain, façade with a number of stained glass windows (which lead one to think it is a chapel). Upstairs, you are led into a hushed long space that is flanked on both sides by tall bookcases with a treasure-trove of leather-bound books topped by marble busts of Classical writers (such as Horace and Seneca) on one side and busts of English writers (such as Dryden and Swift) on the other. The main window is not of stained glass but is painted–it represents Sir Issac Newton (the most famous alumnus of the college) being presented before the King. At the bottom is Francis Bacon (also a luminary of the college).

The biggest treasure of the library, however, are its original manuscripts and these are placed in glass cases to allow the visitor to peruse them carefully. I was most delighted by the original manuscripts, written in his own handwriting, of A.A. Milne’s Tales of Winnie The Pooh (also with his original illustrations). These, together with the other treasures in the cases, were bequeathed to the Library. I looked at all of them very carefully and thought I lucky I was to be able to see these words that ranged from Medieval illuminated manuscripts penned by monks to contemporary works that date from our own times.

Lunch, Then In and Out of Other Colleges:

Crossing the Neville Court again and arriving at the Dinning Hall, I decided to get myself some lunch. I entered the ‘Servery’ (only Oxford and Cambridge still retain the use of antiquated words like ‘Servery’, ‘Buttery’ and ‘Infirmary’!) and chose to eat delicious Braised Lamb Chops with Gravy served with Fried Potato Disks and Brocolli. Gravy for the Potatoes was in the Main Hall and it was there that I took my tray, sat down and ate while being gazed upon my past Masters of the College, including India’s Nobel Laureate Economist Amartya Sen who was Master of Trinity till 2014. My meal, considering that it was an institutional offering, was quite delicious indeed, and replete with it, I set out to see some of the college. It was about 1. 30 pm by then so I still had a half hour to spend before claiming my room key.

I popped in next door to King’s College and discovered that there was a fee to enter its magnificent and famous Chapel. By then it had started to drizzle and I was grateful for the little umbrella I had taken out of my bag and carried with me. The entry fee to King’s Chapel is a steep 9 pounds (yes, that is 9 pounds) and I was loathe to pay it for a few minutes’ visit. Having already attended Evensong at King’s, a few years ago, I remembered it well and decided instead to try to return for the 12. 30 Afternoon Prayer service tomorrow when I could enter the chapel sans fees.

I then walked through the side street that led me into Gonville and Caiius (pronounced ‘Keys’) College where I had the chance to tour its quads, nip into its chapel and survey its Fellows Garden. Most of the colleges are open to visitors between 2 and 5 pm. and unless the college is able to boast a sought-after treasure that every visitor clamors to see, there is no entrance fee. Gonville and Caiius has rather unusual architecture in his arched gateways–but, other than that, it is not a big crowd-pleaser.

I arrived by then on to King’s Parade, which is a strip of road in front of the main entrance to King’s College, lined on the other side by shops. More recent viewers of British detective and crime drama in the US will recognize it as the street along which the Vicar of the Church in the neighboring village of Grantchester, Sidney, rides his bicycle, his gown flapping hard behind him as the brilliant actor James Norton plays him.  I was also close to Market Square, so I did decided to browse in it and discovered that it was taken over by a flea market of sorts. I also did find the Tourist Information Center in a side street and nipped inside to get a map and find out how I could get to two places I would like to visit tomorrow–as my return coach to London only leaves Cambridge at 5.00 pm: Ely  (pronounced “Eelee”)Cathedral in the town of Ely and the village of Grantchester. The assistant advised me to take the train to Ely (as he said it would reach much faster and cost the same amount) and he told me which bus to take to Grantchester (which was much closer to Cambridge than Ely). I thanked him and left.

Taking Possession of my Room in Trinity College:

I returned to the Porter’s Lodge at Trinity, got my bag and my key, took directions on how to get to my ‘Parlor Room’ (which overlooked the Main Quad) and ten minutes later, there I was, in the Fellow’s Stairway, climbing up a grand wooden staircase punctuated by portraits of past Fellows and arriving at the third floor and entering a narrow corridor where I pushed past my door and entered my most enchanting room. It was furnished in period style with a four-poster bed dominating my room and with a dresser, pull-down desk, bed side tables, a large cheval mirror and a huge armoire filling the pace–but still leaving much space to get lost in as the room was so huge.  I headed straight to the dormer windows, pushed open the curtains and looked down upon the Main Quad with such a sense of excitement that it is hard to describe. I had to pinch myself several times. How was it possible that I was occupying a room in the Fellow’s Staircase, past a Fellow’s Parlor and a separate Fellows Dining Hall, to take possession of a room in a college that had been founded by Henry VIII? As I gazed down at the courtyard, I thought, Nehru was a student here, Sir Issac Newton produced his Laws of Gravity here, Thomas Babbington Macaulay (whose notorious ‘Minute’ brought English education to the Indian sub-continent) studied here–and here was I? It was truly mind-blowing. And as I unpacked my few belongings and placed them in the drawers, I decided to take a nap in readiness for my lecture at 5.00 pm. So I curled up on the massive four-poster bed and tried to sleep.

It was impossible. I was much too keyed up. So I lay and took a rest, then decided to make myself a cup of coffee in the adjoining room where all the fixing’s were laid out and returned to my room. I sipped it while doing a bit of emailing and whatsapping through the wifi whose password had been given to me and then I still had a half hour before I intended to leave. I decided to take a shower (as I hadn’t showered in the morning) and was absolutely charmed by the completely adjoining en suite bathroom that was up-to-the-minute modern with a small rain shower cubicle and a full-size bath tub! Here was something more mind-boggling: a Renaissance College in a Medieval University with a Modernist bathroom! I discovered later than mine was the only ensuite room as other visitors to the college, occupying rooms down the same hallway, use bathrooms opposite the hall. Had I lucked out or what?

Shower done, I changed into the presentation clothing I had carried (crisp white shirt, grey jacket, formal dress trousers, Hermes scarf) and I left. I took directions from the Porter who directed me to the Center of South Asian Studies in the Alice Richards Building past the avenue of trees and on the main road outside from where I got Cambridge’s most iconic photograph: King’s College Chapel from The Backs. And then, ten minutes later, after I met Barbara Roe who had coordinated the entire lecture effort for me, I was being escorted to the lecture hall by Kevin Greenback who had set up my Powerpoint presentation and who asked me if it was okay to have my lecture live streamed. I told him it was fine.

Giving a Guest Lecture at the Graduate Seminar:

A few minutes later, I was meeting Prof. David Washbrook, a Fellow of Trinity and Ed Anderson, the Smuts Research Fellow, who made me feel welcomed and who would provide company for the dinner that would follow the talk. I settled myself at the podium and at 5.00 pm after the room had filled up considerably with MA., M.Phil and Ph.D. students from varied disciplines with an interest in South Asian Studies, I began my talk on “Britain’s Anglo-Indians: The Invisibility of Assimilation’. Very soon, as often happens, I eased into my lecture and was pleased to see that many students were taking notes, typing on their laptops or listening intently. My talk went on for the 45 minutes I had been given and was followed by Q&A that went on for at least 20-30 minutes. I was amazed at the number of questions that were asked and the quality of them. Although some of the scholars were mature, it was the younger ones who were most eager to ask questions and to comment. Their comments were astute, their insights acute and deeply inspiring–as might be assumed, of course, in one of the world’s premier institutions of higher learning. It was fun to grapple with them and provide more information and it was good to see that I had created enough interest in the subject that students wished to know more. David moderated the questions and called a halt to them about 20 minutes later when he invited the gathering to discuss the matter even more with me over drinks.

Drinks were offered two floors up in a small corridor. I had a glass of wine as I needed to relax after being nerve-wracked for most of the past couple of days. I felt relieved that the ‘work’ part of my assignment was over and that I could chat with the many students who crowded around me to ask more questions or make more comments. It was indeed another very satisfying half hour before we said goodbye to everyone.

Dinner at Loch Fyne Restaurant:

I was scheduled to have dinner with David and Ed who then led me on a beautiful night along Trumpington Road to Lock Fyne Seafood restaurant where we had reservations. It was a nice companionable walk during which time I got to know a bit about Ed who is a South Asianist working on the Emergency in India.

At the restaurant, my hosts ordered another bottle of white wine (a Portuguese wine, rather significantly) and the prix fixe three course menu. I went for the Soft-Shell Crab Pakora which was surprisingly delicious and interesting served with a blob of Tartar Sauce and Grated Carrot Salad, the Portuguese Seafood Stew which was a lovely mixture of prawns, octopus, squid and monk fish in a lovely well-flavored fish stock and for dessert, I had a really wonderful Clementine Tart served with Chocolate and Orange Ice-cream that was amazing. Wine and conversation flowed easily during our meal as we talked about folks we know in common and David’s presence at NYU events in the past in New York City. It was about 10.00 pm when we were all done and I was thanking my hosts for looking after me so well and for giving me the opportunity of a lifetime.

We walked back along what seemed to me like rather dark streets (far dimmer than the ones in Oxford) on Trumpington Road. Ed said goodbye halfway through and David and I continued as he has rooms in Trinity college. He saw me as far as my staircase and after I thanked him very much, I decided to have a coffee in the Fellows Parlor which is open till 11.00 pm. There I did some more emailing, sipped my coffee and then climbed the staircase to my room. Once again, I felt an acute ‘high’ at being in such an august space. It is one thing to be a student in such institutions–it is completely another experience altogether to be considered a peer and to be treated as one by colleagues who work in the same fields of research and scholarly endeavor. I was completely and fully psyched, chuffed and stoked (as Brits would say) by the entire experience and it was bathed with a sense of the deepest gratitude that I fell asleep when the clock on the Tower above the College Chapel chimed 11.00 pm.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Working at NYU, Sir John Soane’s Museum and Discovering Dickens’ London

Oct11

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

London

I am waking up, for some reason, between 4.00 and 4. 30 am each morning and staying awake for an hour. I then fall asleep again at about 5.00 or 5. 30 and do not wake up until 7.00 am. This is throwing my whole schedule out of whack and I am not even sure if, in the end, I am getting enough sleep. Luckily, when I am in London, I always seem to function on an adrenalin-fuelled high: I rarely feel fatigued and rarely crave sleep. So, let’s hope this unprecedented burst of energy continues despite disturbed sleep patterns.

Once I woke up, I did not waste much time. Cecil, my friend, was supposed to come in here with a TV set, but he texted to let me know he would come in the evening at 7. 30 pm. I caught up with my blog, then reviewed my lecture–all without getting out of bed as I usually work on my laptop while still in bed. When I had made a few changes, added more bits from another chapter of my book and was satisfied with my work, I emailed a copy to myself at my office at NYU. I then washed and got my breakfast organized: I had mango and passion fruit muesli with coffee. I also made myself a cheese and pickle sandwich and packed it up with a sachet of soup. Once done, I went in for a shower and finding out that it was rather chilly today, I dressed warmly and left my flat at exactly 10.00am.

I reached my NYU office at Bedford Square at exactly 10. 45 and worked at my desk till 1.00 pm. There was much printing to be done and much material to review as I prepared for my invited lecture tomorrow in the Center of South Asian Studies at Cambridge University.

At 1.00 pm, when I was all done, I went down to the Faculty Lounge to get hot water for my soup and to eat my sandwich lunch. By 1.45, with beautiful bright sunshine beckoning outside, I decided to take a look at one of my favorite places in London and a place I always make sure I visit on each prolonged stay in the city–Sir John Soane’s Museum.

Re-Visiting a Favorite Venue–Sir John Soane’s Museum:

Sir John Soanes was an 18th century architect who has left a lasting mark upon the city in a few iconic buildings that carry his markedly Classical signature: the Bank of England, 10 Downing Street, The Dulwich Picture Gallery and the Church of St. John’s at Bethnal Green (where I had attended Mass two weeks ago). He was also a passionate and compulsive collector and he devoted his life to attending auctions where he bet on literally thousands of architectural fragments and contemporary paintings that he somehow managed to accommodate in his home at Lincoln’s Inn Field–which, by the way, happens to be the largest Square in London.

Soon, his original home was inadequate to accommodate his treasures and he ended up buying the two houses that adjoin No. 12, i.e. Nos. 11 and 13. After his death, he bequeathed his houses and their contents to the nation with the stipulation that nothing should be moved unless absolutely necessary. Today, the three adjoining houses form one of London’s most unique and intriguing spaces. Being such an architectural buff myself, I adore this place and always make it a point to return. For me, it is not just the collection that is intriguing but the manner in which he displayed his finds that keep me enthralled.

Inside the Museum:

Apart from the multitudes of architectural fragments and models that one finds inside, the Museum is also a house that Soane shared with his beloved wife and an office in which he ran his firm, made his designs and maintained a career. The visitor goes through beautifully-appointed rooms such as the Main entrance hall, the living room-cum-dining room, the library. Upstairs are bedrooms. Downstairs is the kitchen and the crypt–a repository of even more items in the collection. There is everything you could possibly imagine: friezes, classical statues, sculpture, busts, plaster seals, urns, vases–anything of a classical nature was his obsession. There is even an entire sarcophagus from Egypt whose arrival in his home he celebrated with a three day party! There is also a Monk’s Parlor–the only Gothic part of the house which contains wonderful medieval architectural fragments and many stunning examples of stained glass.  It is truly hard to imagine that one man could have accumulated so many items in a single lifetime. I couldn’t help feel sorry for his wife and his servants–imagine all that dusting!

Also quite remarkable about the house and probably its most amazing feature is the picture gallery he designed which exists in three tiers or layers. The guide opens one set of doors to reveal another and then another. On one side, there are paintings of Soane’s designs as executed by Joseph Gandy, a good friend and an artist. There are also a couple of painting by Turner who was also a close friend. On the other side, there is the entire original set of Hogarth’s series of paintings known as The Rake’s Progress. I was very fortunate to catch a guided tour during which the guide gave a detailed explanation of the entire story of debauchery which meets its ultimate punishment. Really interesting stuff! It took me about an hour and half to peruse the Museum at leisure.

A Walk Through Dickens’ London:

Then, when I emerged from the museum and found that it was still bright, I decided to take advantage of the light and go off on another guided walk as delineated in my book on Memorable Walks in London by Frommer. The walk began at Lincoln’s Inn Field, took in the Soane Museum and led me to the other side of the field to John Foster’s House with its portico. Forster was a friend of Dickens and the house is said to have been the model for the home of John Jarndyce in Bleak House. At the end of that lane was The Old Curiosity Shop–and for the first time in my life, I actually went inside it! It is a shoe shop today, run by a group of Orientals, one of whom opened the door for me when I rang the bell. Inside, I saw a bevy of wonderfully-made shoes, each of which was like a work of art. I was really thrilled to have finally been inside the House that Dickens made popular in his novel The Old Curiosity Shop. Across the street is the new wing of the London School of Economics that my friend Barbara had especially taken me to see on a visit to London last year.

I then passed the Royal College of Surgeons (where the Hunterian Museum that I have visited before is located). It is a building built entirely in Neo-Classical style by none other than Charles Barry who designed the Houses of Parliament and Highclere Castle (setting of Downton Abbey). Right by it was one of the buildings of the LSE (London School of Economics and Political Science–Mick Jagger is an alumnus–although he dropped out before graduating). I decided to nip inside–because I had never been in before. Unfortunately, you need an ID card to enter the electronic stile. I had a quick look around, noticed that K. Antony Appiah of NYU gave a lecture there just a couple of days ago, and I left.

My next port of call was Lincoln’s Inn itself–one of the Inns of Court and the one that Dickens referred to repeatedly as the Court of Chancery in his novel Bleak House. It was a graduation day of sorts for I saw a number of young folk in gowns and wigs posing for pictures. I walked through the glorious gatehouse (the playwright Ben Jonson is said to have laid some of the bricks in his job as a mason) and entered the vast courtyard. I then made my way into the Chapel which is a masterpiece by another brilliant and famous English architect, Inigo Jones. The metaphysical poet John Donne was once the Dean of this Chapel and he preached here quite frequently. So much history–architectural and literary–wrapped up  in one place. A service was about to begin in ten minutes–so I merely made note of the glorious stained glass windows and the one above the main altar with its hundreds of crests worked into the design.

I passed Wildy and Co. (the oldest law book seller in the UK) and arrived at Carey Street where I entered The Seven Stars pub (one of the smallest pubs in the country) and one that Dickens frequented. There are illustrations from Dickens’ novels on the walls. Past Bell Yard, I arrived on Fleet Street where my attention was drawn to the obelisque crowned with a dragon that is known as Temple Bar and that marks the line of demarcation between the City of London and the City of Westminster.

At this point, I crossed the street to get a picture of the ornate and splendid Gothic façade of the Royal Courts of Justice (whose interior I have toured on a previous visit) when the Lloyds Bank Royal Court Branch caught my eye. Indeed, I have passed by this place on foot on many an occasion and had never really ‘seen’ it before. It is an exuberant collage of ceramic tiles that create twin fountains plus walls that are grand in their quiet pastel colors and Orientalist design. Inside, there are two more small chambers to cross where the ceramic tiles on the walls are so gorgeous that it is hard to believe I had not seen any of this before. Many of the tiles placed together on the wall form the features of characters in the plays of Ben Jonson. I took a bit of a rest in the main hall where banking operations were very much in progress and then I made a detour next door.

By this time, I was tired and thirsty–so it was handy that Twinning’s main store was just around the corner. I was aware that they do tea samplings and I joined in to taste a delicious herbal tea that was warm and refreshing and completely hit the spot. By then, it was about 5.00 pm and I had been on my feet for hours. I decided to suspend the walk and pick it up again another time.

It would be best for me to walk to Holborn to take the Central Line from there directly back home–but I got side tracked by a café that had a very good deal on Afternoon Tea (cake and a cup of tea or coffee for 3. 65 pounds!) I stepped in, ordered a decaff Americano and a thick slice of Green Macha Cake with Raspberries that was very good indeed.

Half an hour later, I was on the train and home by 6.00 pm. I Facetimed with Llew for a while and then opened the door to Cecil who arrived with my TV set. Unfortunately, although it looks good, he could not find the aerial–so I will have to wait until that is set up. Anyway, as I will be out of town and in Cambridge for the next two days, I would not be watching anything till Friday.

I got myself organized for my early morning departure tomorrow–packed a small overnight case with clothing and toiletries and then sat down to catch up on my blog. Dinner was Indian food that was leftover from a previous meal–lamb korma with bread and another cup of soup with ice-cream for dessert and then I called it an early night as I have an early morning wake up call.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…