Tag Archive | National Gallery

Packing & Posting, An Organ Recital and the Bank of England Museum

May26

Tuesday, May 26, 2009
London

Life returned to legal London this morning as Holborn sprang up like a phoenix from the ashes of the long holiday weekend. As folks rushed in and out of the Tube stairwell to the closest coffee shop or their electronic offices, I continued reading The Order of the Phoenix, then went to my kitchen to do some cooking. I pulled out all the items from my freezer and the vegetables I bought last evening, and concocted two pasta dishes: with Ham, Asparagus and Peas and with Peppers, Mushrooms, Tomatoes and Prawns. With the addition of my home made chicken stock and single cream, they both turned out rather well. I filled them into my Tupperware containers in small lots (the better to freeze them with) and then turned to the serious business of getting packed.

I spent simply ages on the phone trying in vain to find out how my vintage desk could most economically be shipped to the States. I had very little success as both Fedex and UPS informed me that they simply do not have boxes large enough to accommodate my bureau. While they are willing to pick up from my residence, they needed me to do the packing.

Finally, at the advice of Matt, the dealer who sold me the desk in Hampstead, I zeroed in on Hedley Humpers, a company that specializes in shipping antiques around the world. They gave me a quote that hit the roof but they will deliver right to my doorstep in Connecticut, they will create a special wooden crate made to measure for my bureau-desk and they will take care of the packing so that I need not worry at all about breakage. It seemed like a good deal and I have to now figure out how to get the bureau to their warehouse in Acton as that will save me a hundred quid!

Martha arrived on duty this morning and brought me a load of boxes in different sizes. With Arben’s help, I was able to figure out the exact dimensions of my purchase. In the midst of the growing load of boxes that are rapidly filling with my books, I rushed off at 12. 15 to take the bus to the Church of St. Lawrence Jewry, near the Guildhall for one of their 1.00 pm Tuesday afternoon organ concerts.

St. Lawrence, Jewry, Church:
It didn’t take me long to get there at all. A quick canter from the bus stop to the Church got me inside a magnificent Anglican Church that has been around on this spot since the 1100s. Named for the martyr who was tortured over an iron grill, the second part of the Church’s name derives from the fact that it is located in a part of London that was once the heart of the Jewish ghetto (that is before all Jews were driven out of the city by Edward I).

The church was destroyed completely during the Great Fire of London in 1666 when Christopher Wren redesigned it. Worship continued in the church until the mid-1940s when it was, once again, almost entirely gutted by the blitz. Reconstruction using Wren’s original plans then began but the church no longer functions as a parish. Instead it is a guild church of the Corporation of London and there is a special seat in the very front reserved for the exclusive use of the Lord Mayor of London. Go for it Boris!

A large number of people had already taken their seats and awaited the beginning of the recital. I had the time to inspect the more significant details of the church such as its sparkling ceiling with elaborate gilded plasterwork, the splendid carved oak screen (the work and design originally being undertake by Grindling Gibbons, of course), the reredos with its smallish painting and the marble baptismal font at the back that dates from the 1540s. The spanking new stained glass windows (made in the 1950s) feature a number of saints from the Christian pantheon while at the back, there is a very evocative window that memorializes the work of Wren and Gibbons. The pews are also quite wonderfully carved and I was very pleased to find an opportunity to see the interior of this church as the concerts are the only occasions on which it is opened to the public.

The Organ Recital:
A large number of London churches hold free lunch-time concert recitals and they are a very good way by which to get into these historical venues. At the Church of St. Lawrence Jewry, the concerts are named in memory of one John Hill who played this church organ at all services while spending 40 years of his life as a banker at HSBC. Following his death, the bank offered sponsorshop for these recitals which bring young international organists to London as Hill was always keen to introduce new talent to the public. The concerts held on Tuesdays in May and June have attracted a large number of organ enthusiasts and sitting right behind me was Steven Green, Group Chairman of HSBC Holdings.

Mareile Schmidt was the featured organist today. She was a tall, very slender woman with a lovely smile. She currently teaches music in Koln, Germany, and it was with a heavy but very charming German accent that she introduced her program–ingeniously it was themed around the Biblical line: “And the Spirit of God moved on the surface of the Waters”. Hence, all her pieces had water connection. She chose compositions by Handel and Bach and lesser-known composers such as Louis Vierne, Jeanne Demessieux and Olivier Messiaen whose atonal work was very reminiscent of the compositions of Phillip Glass–not surprisingly, he is a Modernist.

The concert lasted 45 minutes and was a very enjoyable experience for me as this is the first time ever I have attended an organ recital. Apart from hearing the instrument played in church during servcies, I have never heard it played purely for listening pleasure and I have to say it was a lot of fun.

When it ended, I had a chance to inspect the interior features of the church and its architecture and then made my way out towards the Guildhall Art Gallery which lies in the same complex. Only I discovered that though I thought I lived within the old ‘City of London’, my taxes are paid to Camden–and, as such, I wasn’t allowed free entry. The clerk told me to return on Fridays when entry is free to all.

The Bank of England Museum:
Since I was so close to the Bank of England, I decided it would be a good time to take a look at its museum–besides, I had always wanted to set foot inside the bank. Only, I made a funny discovery! The building that I had long thought was the Bank of England building wasn’t so it all–it was the Royal Exchange Building now filled with luxury stores such as Loro Piana (who sell beautiful cashmere stoles, Hermes whose silk scarves I covet and, as I found out for the first time, Jo Malone whose cosmetics and fragrances are my passion!). I had to spend some time browsing through this marvelous space before I crossed the street.

Sir John Soanes’ Bank of England building lies catty corner to the Neo-Classical grandeur of the Royal Exchange Building on her own little island. I haver to say that it looks more like a fortress than a bank–which I guess is what it is when you consider all the gold bullion stashed in the vault way down in the bowels of the earth beneath the bank’s foundation.

I found the entrance to the museum easily enough, discovered that it was free, and then spent the next couple of hours wrapped up in the process of learning all about the history of banking in England. It was in 1694, for instance, that the Bank of England came into existence through the goldsmiths, who had, until that time, made extensive loans to merchants and the Crown. You can see them in their black top hats and cloaks looking for all the world like a bunch of Flemish aristocrats, in the many early paintings in the museum–this is not surprisingly as it was among the Dutch that banking first originated. These goldsmith’s notes, originally receipts for coin deposits, circulated freely as a form of paper money (because they carried the words “or bearer” on them meaning that they could be passed on from one person to the next). This is why paper money is also referred to as a “note”! These indeed became the forerunners of the banknotes we use today. I found this early information fascinating.

As I walked through the history of the bank, I found out about the sorting and destroying of soiled or defaced notes (something I once did personally in the Cash Department of the Reserve Bank of India in Bombay where I had worked while pursuing graduate studies). I saw the powdery remains of destroyed notes–grey-green confetti–in a glass case. I saw an early chest, dating from 1700, a forerunner of the modern-day bank vault. I saw the Bank’s silver and, perhaps most fascinatingly of all, I saw a bar of gold bullion weighing 13 kilograms (which, I discovered is 2 stone–so now I finally know that 1 stone is 7 kilograms or 14 dd pounds. The English still funnily enough weigh themselves in stone and I have always wodnered what to make of this measure of weight!). It was so heavy that I barely managed to lift it up. Yes, you could actually handle this gold bar–imagine how awed kids must feel in this space!

I understood what is meant by the Gold Standard which was adopted in Great Britain in 1816. It formally linked the value of a pound sterling to a fixed quantity of gold and a new coin, called the sovereign (because it featrued the head of the monarch on it) was circulated the following year. This gold standard played a key role in international trade throughout the 19th century and was finally abandoned in 1931.

Of course, a lover of literature and literary history like myself will usually find some gem in every museum that most takes her fancy and the Bank of England’s Museum was no exception. I made the startling discovery here that Kenneth Grahame who started his career in the bank as a humble junior clerk made his way up the ladder and in 20 years (at the age of 39) became its Secretary. It was while he worked in the bank (just like T.S. Eliot worked in a bank while writing poetry!) that he wrote his books, the most famous of which is, The Wind in the Willows, one of my most beloved of story books as a child. There is a whole section devoted to Grahame which includes a signed first edition of the book (Llew would have loved that) as well as correspondence between him and key figures of the bank. It was with some sadness that I learned that he resigned rather suddenly (his letter of resignation is on display) and though he cited failing health and nerves as the reason for his decision to do so, the real reason was that he was bullied by one of the bank’s Directors, one Walter Cunliff whose full sized portrait in oil hangs on a wall in the lovely Rotunda, perhaps Soanes’ best interior feature in the building with its beautiful caryatids (sculpted Greek goddesses) that encircle it.

I also realized that there is so much similarity in the bureaucratic hierarchy of the Bank of England and the Reserve Bank of India. The head of both banks, for instance, is known as the Governor, and both boast a Board of Directors–they are called Executive Directors in India. Again, I suppose this should not have surprisied me considering that we inherited a system of banking from the British together with those of jurisprudence and education, post and telegraphs, railways, customs and excise, army and police.

A cartoon explains where and how the bank received her nickname–The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street. It came from a cartoon that appeared in a contemporary newspaper that satirized William Pitt The Younger’s liberal war-time spending that requried him to dig deeper and deeper into the pockets of an ageing old lady. The cartoon is on display in the museum together with life size caricatures of Pitt and his arch opponent Charles Fox who debated with him endlessly in the House of Commons on the sagacity of the incurring of so much national debt.

There are scores and scores of bank notes and coins in ther museum, each set portraying the heads of the monarchs under whom they were minted. In the adjoining shop, you can purchase sets of coins (they make valued christening gifts) and all sorts of items connected with banking, including a lovely set of old fashioned nib pens that I loved. The place was crawling with kids who found something or the other to catch their fancy and there were so many excited exclamations all around me as I surveyed the exhibits. It is truly an interesting place to visit and I would strongly urge anyone even remotely associated with banking to visit this museum. Many thanks to the anonymous reader of this blog who drew my attention to this museum and recommended that I visit it. I am very grateful indeed.

Packing and Posting Nightmares:
Then, I was back home, worrying about all the packing I had to do and books I had to ship out. On impusle,I decided to go down to the Post Office which is just six shops away from the entrance of my buuilding, with one of my 5 kg. boxes to find out how much it would cost me to mail it to the States using their Special Rate for books and printed paper. The line at this Post Office is always long and it took me about fifteen minutes to get to the counter, when I discovered, to my utter horror, that it would cost me 45 pounds per box! Can you imagine? I doubled checked with the clerk that it was the Special Rate she was quoting and when she said yes, I beat a hasty retreat out of there thinking that I really ought to be far mroe choosey about which books I will mail–especially if I want to have enough of my shipping alloowance leftover to mail the desk I bought.

Well, I returned home when it occured to me that perhaps there is a better rate for sea mail (or what is called Surface mail in this coutnry). I tried to find the information online through the Royal Mail website but did not succeed, so back I went to the Post Office, I stood in the queue for another 15 mintues and discovered, from the same clerk, that there is such a thing as Priority Mail which will allow me to ship a maximum of 30 kgs of books and printed material for 168 pounds in one lot. That makes it a little cheaper and I decided to go for that. I will now have to reopen my boxes and become far more judicious about which books I will take back with me and which ones I will leave behind.

Surveying my New Digs:
I merely had the time for a shower before I had to set off again, this time to keep my appointment with Jack who was going to hand over the keys to me of the new place into which I will be moving at the weekend. He was waiting for me outside the gate and we spent the next hour in the flat as I learned the ropes–which keys go where, how kitchen applicances worked, how to turn the boiler on and off, how to work the remote controls on the TV and the DVD player and the blinds, how to log on to the wireless internet (did not succeed there as I need to make some adjustment on my computer which baffled both of us). I think I have all the information now under my hat and much as I am sorry to leave this cozy little one-bedroom flat, I am excited to be moving into a penthouse that is filled with modern art and medieval antiquities. Indeed, there is a Maggi Hambling oil painting right above my bed–a rather strange portrait of someone surrounded by a cloud of smoke that emanates from his own cigarette!!! The canvas is three-dimensional–there is a pack of cigarettes attached to it with the legend Smokers Die Younger very prominently displayed on it. I became acquainted with the work of Maggi Hambling at the National Portrait Gallery where her self-portrait, done in her funky signature style, presents her with a signature cigarette dangling from her fingers. This space is Huge, my apartment being the only flat on the entire floor, and I can’t imagine myself rattling around on my own in it. But, like everything else, I suppose I will get accustomed to it slowly.

Back home, I felt really tired again (I am certain these are withdrawal symptoms) as I have rarely felt depleted of energy. I ate my pasta dinner, sent out a few urgent email responses, then got into bed and went straight to sleep.

Lyon At Leisure

May23

Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Lyon, France

On Wednesday morning, I woke up feeling sleep-deprived. My body clock wakes me up by 7 am, no matter how much or how little sleep it has awarded me. Still, I felt confident about finding my way into the city independently and after a shower in their beautiful old-fashioned bathroom up on the third floor of the chateau-like Ducote home, I descended to the stillness of the kitchen in search of breakfast. Genevieve and sons had started their day long before me; Frederic was out by the pool working on the landscaping. I found myself a bit of baguette and with Frederic making a magical appearance to fix my café au lait, I was all set to start my adventures for the day.

On the Metro to Lyon:
I went out in search of a completely different part of Lyon today taking the metro to Saxe-Gambetta to look for the French couturiers who apparently sell their wares for a fraction of the prices in the big stores on this shop-lined street. I could not have been more disappointed. There was absolutely nothing to be found and using the same metro ticket (that is valid for one hour in the same direction), I took a bus to the northern part of the city called Croix-Rousse where the canuts (silk-weavers) once used to live in a labyrinth of narrow streets that today house a multitude of small shops and street markets that sell fresh produce and artisinal cheeses. Though I was pleased to be in the midst of a completely ignored part of the city, a particular store I sought called Braderie de Chariot d’Or (on Rue du Chariot d’Or) turned out to be another damp squib and with little choice, I took the metro once again to arrive at the Hotel de Ville stop so that I could explore the Musee de Beaux-Arts.

The Musee de Beaux-Arts:
Perhaps the best part of Lyon’s Musee de Beaux-Arts is its spectacular building. Once a monastery, it has been reconfigured to display a collection of wonderful paintings that are considered to be among the best outside of Paris. However, to anyone who has visited and knows the work of such marvelous places as the Louvre in Paris, the National Gallery in London or the Metropolitan Museum in New York, the really stunning part of this museum is its building. In fact, the best part of the building is a long room called the Refectory where the monks once used to dine. This has been recently restored and the end result is a receptacle of astounding bas relief sculptures in Plaster of Paris that are so detailed and so deep as to be almost three-dimensional. They portray the lives of a number of saints and do so with such lavish detail in a purely Renaissance style that they stun the viewer.

I was rather hungry by this point and decided to find sustenance, first and foremost, in the very cool interior of the museum’s restaurant. There I ordered the Chef’s Tea Time Special which was a combination of four tiny desserts and a drink of my choice—I chose a tall glass of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice as the day had been warm and I had started to feel parched. The desserts were fresh fruit served with Chantilly cream, a cinnamon mousse, a sweet yogurt served with a raspberry coulis and a tiny rum baba—all of which were perfect little morsels that made me feel very sophisticated and very French indeed as I sat and nibbled at them.

They also provided the pep-up I badly needed after my rather disappointing morning, so it was with renewed enthusiasm that I went in search of the Highlights of the museum’s collection, very helpfully detailed on its map. The ground floor housed a number of marble and bronze sculptures, many of which were outside in the Sculpture Gardens. Works by August Rodin are the star attractions as is a large painting of the Ascension of Christ by the Italian Perugino. The first floor is notable for its antiquities which include an Egyptian sarcophagus, the Gates of Medamud from the reign of Ptolemy, a fifth century bas relief sculpture from Persia and a Greek female Kouros. The Italian section had some wonderful wooden sculptures from Tuscany while the French section had a Renaissance bust of a 15th century Frenchwoman that was very lovely indeed. Of special note was the Art Nouveau bedroom designed by Hector Guimard for his wife that belongs to the 1909-1912 phase of his work.

The second floor of the museum was notable for paintings by rather well-known names such as Lucius Cranach and Veronese (indeed these works were superb) as well as a number of really great ones by Rubens and Rembrandt. It could easily take a whole day to see the entire collection at leisure and I am pleased to say that most of the galleries were completely empty when I was there (which would have made their contemplation even more pleasurable); but I decided to focus only on the highlights in the leaflet, though I did often stop to inspect a painting and the curator’s note if another one caught my eye.

It was the Modern Art in the extension that was also very interesting such as the works by Picasso and Fernand Leger and a number of really enchanting works by the Impressionists especially Renoir who was very well represented in the museum.

Almost three hours later, I made my way out of the museum and crossed the Pont de Lafayette to arrive in the third section of the city—the most modern part where the roads are wide and lined with beautiful buildings in a warm color palette—ochre and sand and yellow and pink. It was from a metro station in this area that I took the underground back to Gare de Vaise but not before I purchased a cranberry and almond tart. It was also at this time that I realized that the stores were closing up for the long Ascension Day Weekend which is a bank holiday in Catholic France. I made sure then that I bought a magnet and a post card of the city and then hopped into a train that took me to Garde de Vaise from where I caught the bus that took me back to Genevieve’s home.

Another Companionable Evening:
Later that evening, I sat down to dinner with the Ducotes. It was a lovely Rice Salad that Genevieve fixed us with Chicken Cordon Blue (which is one of my favorite French dishes—gruyere cheese and a thin slice of ham sandwiched in a chicken breast that is then shallow fried). These meal times with the family were always great fun and I fully enjoyed interacting with them at the end of the day and telling them about my adventures.

I went to bed, sans coffee, hoping to catch up on my sleep, but I had no such luck. Sleep continued to elude me and again it was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally fell asleep.

With Chriselle–A Visit to Parliament and the V&A Museum

May14

Thursday, May 14, 2009
London

Another grey dawn broke over London as Chrissie and I prepared for yet another day of sightseeing. Having broken with my routine and not having found the time to go grocery shopping, I awoke (at 7. 30) to find that I had nothing in the house for breakfast–no cereal, no bread for toast, nothing. I graded a few papers in bed while Chriselle caught a few more zzzzs, then at 8 am, I woke her up and we got on with coffee. Thank goodness for Paul’s Patisserie just down the road that allowed me to introduce Chrissie to my favorite coffee shop and my special treats–an almond croissant and their inimitable hot chocolate.

The House of Commons and the House of Lords:
Having loaded up on the carbs, we were soon boarding the buses that took us to Parliament Square for the first item on our agenda today– a visit to Parliament. The House of Commons opened at 10. 30 am with a short ceremony that included a procession in which the Speaker of the House, Michael Martin, was led into the House by a Sergeant of the Arms who bore an impressive mace in her hand. His coat tails and short train were held by a pair of footmen. As they entered the Peers’ Lobby, a steward shouted, “Hat Off, Strangers!” and the bobbies sprinkled around the room took off their helmets and held them in their hands as the little procession passed us by with a loud and resounding tick-tock tick-tock that the heels of their shoes made as they stomped along the tiled floor! Ah, the pomp and ceremony of British traditions! The visitors lapped it all up especially the loud-voiced American woman who had a gazillion questions to ask.

When all formalities were duly completed, including the taking of our pictures and the frisking of our bodies, we were led into the chamber way up on the top floor into the “Strangers Gallery”. The proceedings had already begun by the time we were permitted to take our seats. The topic of debate today was the issues of cyclists on London’s streets–a matter of deep annoyance to me, most of the time–with apologies to all you cyclists out there. They are allowed to use the bus lanes which means that the buses, that cannot overtake them, have to cool their heels (tyres?)while the slowest cyclists pedal away, clearly out of breath and stamina. The more important issues of the day such as the problem of the Sri Lankan Tamils (who were shouting themselves hoarse on the square outside the ornate building) and of swine flu were scheduled for later in the day–but neither of us had the patience or the intention to sit it out that long. Chriselle, however, enjoyed the proceedings as this was an opportunity, she said, for her to hear educated British accents, more of which she had hoped to hear in London–but was disappointed as the city has become so cosmopolitan that most visitors now hear pigdin English most of the time. I loved the easy repartee that was exchanged by the members on opposite sides of the floor–much of which was delivered with the dry sarcasm for which the English are so famed. When we had listened to the debates for about 15 minutes, we decided to move on–this time to the far more ornate House of Lords.

The approach to the House of Lords is also far fancier than the staircase we had used to get to the House of Commons. This one was richly carpeted in scarlet, the wallpaper in a loud striking print. At the top of the staircase, in another “Strangers Gallery” we were asked to sign an undertaking that we would not disturb the proceedings in any way. The seat of the monarch–a very impressive affair in gilt–was at the far end of the hall. I saw a couple of people on the floor wearing the powdered wigs of the British law courts—they were probably lawyers. Others lounged around the benches looking rather bored. I was not too certain what matter was being discussed as Chriselle decided that she’d had enough and thought it was time to leave.

So off we went down towards Westminster Hall, the only part of the Building that was not destroyed in the fire that ravaged them in the mid-1800s when the present building was constructed in Gothic Revival style. The Peers’ Hall is the most spectacular of the interior rooms with its rich carvings, ornate wall hanging, gigantic paintings, glittering chandelier, etc. Outside, in Westminster Hall with its impressive timbered roof, visitors can pause to examine the markings on the floor which point out the spots in which British royalty were laid in state at the time of their deaths. This room is the most historical with its references to convictions and acquittals (Thomas More convicted, Warren Hastings acquitted).

The Kyoto Garden in Holland Park:
Not too long after our interesting visit to Parliament, we hopped into another bus headed down Kensington High Street as I wanted to show Chriselle one of my favorite parts of London–the Japanese Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. I have discovered that not too many people know about this part of London–what I prefer to think of as my secret garden. Getting off the bus, we walked across Holland Park’s Main Lawn, entered the Brick Orangery where early spring flowers have faded already and summer beds are in the process of being planted and into the Japanese Gardens. We were starving by that point and found the perfect spot to sit and have our picnic lunch–tuna and sweetcorn bagels–on the stone steps that spanned the pool formed by the short waterfall that left a soapy swirl all around us. To our delight, gorgeous peacocks and peahens kept us company, strutting their exotic plumage around for our pleasure. We took many pictures of the fabulous wildlife that included a grey heron and many pigeons.

The Victoria and Albert Museum:
It was not long before we headed towards a bus stop to get to the Victoria and Albert Museum but not before we made a slight detour to Waitrose where I stepped in to buy muesli to send off to Llew with Chriselle who flies to New York tomorrow. I also found some Walnut Bread which I quickly snapped up (as I find it around so rarely). Our bus arrived soon after and we found ourselves seats, changing at Cromwell Road to another bus that took us towards the V&A.

In-between taking in the Highlights, I made a call to bid goodbye and Bon Voyage to my brother Roger who was leaving Bombay for the States with his son on a 2 week holiday. Chriselle and I spoke to the two of them and to my parents who happened to be at Roger’s flat. Then, I took Chriselle on a tour of the most significant pieces in the museum (which has also started to feel like home). These were the items we examined (not necessarily in this order):

1. Dale Chihuly’s Chandelier in the main lobby.
2. Zaba Haidi’s glass sculpture at the main entrance.
3. The Tudor Bed of Ware
4. The Tudor Armor
5. The Rococo Room
6.The Nicholas Hilliard Miniatures
7. The Rafael Rooms with the Sistine Chapel Cartoons
8. The Arbadil Carpet
9. Tipu’s Tiger
10. The Jade Drinking Cup of Shah Jehan
11. The Gold Throne of Maharana Ranjit Singh
12. The ivory furniture in the South Asian Gallery.
13. The Vivienne Westwood Watteau Gown.
14. The Catherine Walker designed Hongkong Gown for Diana
15. The Terracotta Sculpture entitled ‘Innocence’ by Drury
16. Rodin’s ‘John the Baptist Preaching’
17. The Cast Court with Trajan’s Column, Michelangelo’s ‘David’ and ‘Moses’.
18. Raphael’s ‘The School of Athens’
19. The Jewelry Galleries
20. The Jeringham Silver Wine Cooler
21. Constable’s studies for ‘The Haywain’
22. ‘Breathless’ by Cornelia Parker
23. The Poynter, Gamble and Morris Cafe Rooms where we treated ourselves to Afternoon Tea.

We made our way out of the V&A Museum through the central quadrangle with its serene pool and lovely balconies and galleries that emphasized the elegance of Victorian design. Chriselle told me that she loved the museum and could see why some visitors might consider it even better than the National Gallery. In its wealth of decorative arts, it outshines the National which focuses exclusively on paintings and sculpture.

Then, we were on the bus again headed home and catching up with our respective work assignments. Chriselle logged on and did some work, I continued grading my papers after I brewed us a pot of tea which we sat sipping slowly as we completed our work. I also packed up two small cases with my things that I wanted Chriselle to carry back to New York with me and all of this took a lot of time and focus. I now feel confident about moving my own things quite easily to my new digs at Farringdon at the end of the month for I have pruned my possessions down considerably and am left only with the clothing I will need for the next two months. The bulk of my books and files will be mailed back to America in the next couple of days. I have already started to feel curiously light and as soon a Chriselle leaves, I shall turn my attention to packing up my things and putting myself into Moving Mode.

A Night on the Town:
Chriselle had also made plans for us to go out with a few friends of hers and after she and I had both showered, we welcomed Ivana and her friend Rosa to our apartment. After we had taken a few pictures, we set out for the evening, walking first to Great Queen Street where we had a few drinks and appetizers in the Great Queen Street Bar where a friend named Emma extended her warmth and hospitality to us. The basement bar was awfully noisy with a group of four young women who shrieked their way through the evening until we could take it no longer and decided to move on–this time deciding to eat at an Indian restaurant called Masala Zone where we were joined by Chriselle’s friend Rahul. Over traditional Indian chaat and thalis, we chatted some more and after midnight, with the more energetic among us electing to go clubbing, I caught the bus and returned home after what had been a very interesting but rather tiring night.

Supertour at St. Paul’s Cathedral and Exploring Southwark

May13

Wednesday, May 15, 2009
London

London slumbered under leaden skies this morning, though, thankfully, the rain stayed at bay. Wearing warm cardigans to ward off the chill, Chriselle and I set off after a cereal and yogurt breakfast to explore St. Paul’s Cathedral. Though I have been there for several services throughout the past 8 months, I hadn’t taken a formal guided tour and was waiting to share that experience either with Llew or Chriselle. So I was very pleased indeed when my new English friend Bishop Michael Colclough, Canon-Pastor at St. Paul’s and his wife Cynthia, offered me a complimentary guided tour anytime I wanted one. With Chriselle currently visiting me, it seemed like the perfect time to take them up on it and we had one fixed for us for 10. 45 am.

We arrived at the Cathedral to find it swarming with visitors–both inside and out. Tour groups, several of whom comprised students from around London and across the Channel, filled the vast nave of the church. At the Visitor’s Desk, I was ushered to the one run by the Friends of St. Paul’s, an organization of Volunteers (mainly women), who are trained to give guided tours. This Supertour took us to parts of the Cathedral not usually open to the public and we felt privileged indeed to take it at our leisure in so special a fashion.

We were told by our guide, Fiona Walker, that it would last an hour and a half and were ushered right away to a side Chapel–dedicated to one of the many formal ‘Orders’ that comprise aristocratic English life. I do not believe that even a lifetime would be adequate in helping me acquire enough knowledge to decipher the complex system that prevails in military and royal circles int this country. What I did admired in this chapel was the royal seat that only the monarch can occupy, the marvelous wooden carvings by the Tudor carver Grindling Gibbons (whose work I can now easily recognize), the many colorful banners and standards and crests and coat of arms that symbolize one’s family history.

We then moved to the massive oak doors in the very front of the church and learned a bit of history at that point including the part played by Sir Christopher Wren in the design and construction of this, perhaps London’s most distinctive landmark. At the door, we also saw how dark the interior looked until the massive cleaning and renovation was carried out through a vast endowment (11 million pounds) granted to the cathedral by the Fleming family, the same one from which was born the James Bond author Ian!

Next we were led into one of the twin towers that looks down Fleet Street and we were quite taken by the beautiful staircase with its small and very low steps and the ironwork that climbs all the way to the very top. These steeples house the bells that toll each hour and produce the marvelous music on important days. I once heard them chime a heart stirring tune on Palm Sunday–was it last year? The entire city seemed to reverberate to the melody produced by those tolling bells. Yes, they do bring to mind John Donne’s stirring lines:

“No man is an island, entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” (Meditation XVII)

Interestingly, there is a rather strange looking sculpture of John Donne in the Cathedral–strange because the poet appears all shrouded in a linen sheet and standing on an urn. It was the only object in the entire Cathedral to escape the Great Fire of London in 1566 because it was hit by a falling object and fell straight down into the crypt from where it was rescued when the embers and ashes were being cleared. And he appears in this shroud because Donne had actually worn the garment in which he wished to be buried while he was still alive–perhaps to get the feeling of how he might appear before his Creator at his Resurrection!

Onward we went deeper into the Cathedral, passing by the grand monument to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and there we learned a bit more British history. Chriselle is beginning to “connect the dots” as she puts it, in that she is making connections between the guy who inhabited Apsley House and the hero of the Battle of Waterloo! It wasn’t long before we paused under the central dome to admire the Byzantine style mosaics done by Salviati, an Italian, whose work was inspired by the Italian churches. The dome also contains the magnificent paintings done by James Thornhill–yes, the same artist who painted the famous Painted Hall in Greenwich. Chriselle loved the trompe l’oeil quality of the paintings in the dome which appeared as if the inside was covered with columns and pillars. We saw primary school kids lying flat on the floor right under the dome and staring at it–I bet this is something they will always remember. Years from now, when they bring their own kids to the Cathedral they will say, “You know, when I was a little boy, I came to this church on a school field trip and lay down right there on my back and stared up at the dome!”

More detail and more history followed at the memorial to Lord Nelson, considered by many to be England’s greatest hero. The guide went into detail in talking about his relationship with Lady Emma Hamilton and the product of that alliance, a female child, “named”, she said, then paused for effect, “poor thing, Horatia!” Right opposite the Nelson monument is one to Cornwallis and I paused to tell Chriselle that he was the same one who met with a stunning defeat under General George Washington in York when trying to vanquish the rebel colonists in North America. It was probably as a punishment that he was sent off to India where he masterminded the defeat of Tipu Sultan of Mysore at Seringapatnam and, in doing so, somewhat redeemed his fallen image!

Then, we were at the altar, admiring more Grindling Gibbons’ caved choir stalls (each more breathtaking that the next, in oak and beech) and gazing upon the baldachino or altar canopy which looked to me curiously like the Bernini one in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. We saw also the ‘Cathedra’ or Seat which the Bishop occupies and which turns a church into a cathedral–it must contain a seat for a Bishop which means that a Bishop must be attached to the permanent clergy at the church.

And then we climbed down into the crypt where we saw more memorials, the most striking being the ones to Wren, Wellesley and Nelson in their striking sarcophagi. Nelson’s, in grand black granite, is particularly striking and I was not surprised to learn that it was, in fact, designed and created to hold the mortal remains of Cardinal Wolsley (pronounced ‘Wool-zy’) who was Henry VIII’s right hand man until he fell out of favor with the King for not bringing him the Papal annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. He was sentenced to death but, mercifully for him, died a natural death before he could be killed. He certainly was not permitted such a grand coffin and, in any case, the possessions of all state prisoners went directly to the Crown–which explains how Henry got his greedy hands on Wolsley’s finest buildings including Hampton Court and Whitehall Palace (of which now only the Banqueting House survives). The sarcophagus lay forgotten somewhere until the body of Nelson arrived from weeks of preservation in brandy–for Nelson really ought to have been given a burial at sea. However, since he was such an extraordinary hero, an exception was made in order to grant him a state burial. His body was preserved in alcohol, brought to London, this sarcophagus was resurrected for the occasion and the nation had a chance to mourn collectively for the death of a great hero who fell on the HMS Victory (now docked in Portsmouth) and whose blood-stained clothes are in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

Climbing up to the Dome of St. Paul’s:
When the tour ended, we were told that we should not leave the cathedral without venturing up into the dome. I was doubtful about my ability to undertake such strenuous physical exercise since I am still recovering from plantar fascitis; but with encouragement from Chriselle, I rose to the challenge and off we went. 117 steps later, we were in the Whispering Gallery looking down on to the black and white checkered floors of the vast cavern below us. It was just stupendous! Of course, Chriselle and I had to try out the whispering capabilities of the acoustics of the space and discovered that we could, in fact, hear each other clearly though we stood on opposite sides of the dome. I was reminded very much of the interior of Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence and the magnificent painting on the inside of the dome by Vasari which one can see at very close quarters if you have the energy and stamina to climb the 500 odd steps to that height.

Then, another 115 steps took up to the Stone Gallery which encircles the outside of the dome and provides views of the rooftops of London. Yes, we saw the river (rather murky on this grey day) and the London Eye and the gilded statue of the Goddess of Justice atop Old Bailey and a host of other landmarks as well as the red brick of the Prudential Assurance Building that is just a block away from my building on High Holborn.

We circumnavigated our way around the dome then made the descent with Chrissie holding on to me all the way down as she felt a little dizzy. Then, because we were right in the area, I suggested a walking tour of the Southwark area instead of trying to get into a bus to Knightsbridge. Chrissie had made drinks and dinner plans with two friends of hers and wanted to get home for a bit of a rest as she has a severe backache when she exerts herself too much physically. I have to be grateful that my own stamina has remained untouched by plantar fascittis and but for the fact that I have to rest more than I used to, I can continue my daily walking routine without interruption.

Exploring Southwark:
So over Wobbly Bridge we went, the breeze feeling very unpleasant around us given the lack of sunshine. Past Shakespeare’s Globe we strolled, arriving under Southwark Bridge where we hastened to the Borough Market as I wanted Chriselle to get a sense of its delicious activity. Alas, it is not open fully on a Wednesday though a few stalls cater to the luncheon needs of the local working populace. We walked quickly on to The George, the city’s only galleried pub, where we took in the quaintness of the Elizabethan space. Then, we returned to Borough Market for a late lunch: a large helping of Thai Green Chicken and Seafood Curry served over steamed rice. It was dished up piping hot and was deliciously spicy and just what the doctor ordered on this rather chilly day.

Inside Southwark Cathedral:
On our way back to the Embankment, we paid a short visit to Southwark Cathedral that dates from 909 AD–in particular to visit the sculpture of Shakespeare and the lovely stained glass window right above it that provides glimpses into his most famous plays. This allowed us to play a little guessing game together before Chriselle made her three wishes–you are permitted three wishes every time you visit a church for the first time (at least that is what my mother told us, many years ago).

We also took in the brightly painted medieval memorial to John Gower and saw the lovely stone carved altar with some gilding on a couple of its statues. This had been under scaffolding when I had visited last March with my friend Amy, so it is great to see the impact that all this refurbishment has on the space. While we were taking pictures at the Shakespeare memorial, a lady came up and told us that there is a charge for taking pictures!!!Can you imagine that? We told her that we were unaware of the policy and she said that we’d have to pay if we took another. Of course, we had finished our visit by that point and were on our way out–but I have to say that I find these rather materialistic policies of these churches not just irritating but rather offensive.

Off to the Tate Modern:
Then, we were walking along the Thames Embankment again, making our way to the Tate Modern where I wanted to show Chrissie two things: the extraordinarily concept that converted the Hydroelectric Power plant into a Modern Art Gallery and the silver installation by Cornelia Parker entitled Thirty Pieces of Silver. She was already far more tired than I was and since modern art is not something that either one of us can truly engage with (though I understand it intellectually), we went directly to the Parker gallery to admire her work. It involved the flattening of about 1000 pieces of silverware under a steam roller. These were then arranged in thirty lots that are suspended from the ceiling on steel wire. The idea is so remarkable that it is worthy of examination for just this reason. Needless to say, Chriselle was quite speechless and didn’t quite know how to react to this…but then that is exactly what Modern Art does to me. I find myself quite lost for words!

We decided to get on the bus and head home as Chriselle badly wanted to rest. I, however, continued on towards Oxford Circus as Marks and Spencer is having a sale on lingerie and I needed to buy my stock before I return to the States. I discovered that my size was not available but if I carried on to their Marble Arch branch, they could take an order from me there. I pressed on, and another bus ride later, I was at the bigger branch placing my order and told to return after May 22 to pick it up. I will be in France at that time but on the day I get back, I can rush off back to Marble Arch to get the discounted price. Along the way, I discovered that Selfridges has been renovated and is now devoid of the scaffolding under which it was shrouded for so many months while it received a deep cleansing in time for its centenary celebrations. There are lights and yellow decorations all over it and I believe the store is worthy of a visit–so I shall try to get there when I find myself under less pressure.

Another bus took me to my office at NYU where I had to do a bit of photocopying before I send off some receipts to New York for reimbursement.

Back home, I found that Chriselle had left the house to meet her friends. This left me time to attend to my email, have my dinner and sit down to write this blog before I got down to grading a few papers and taking a shower before bed.

Museum Hopping, Pub Crawling, Seeing Felicity Kendall at the West End

May12

Tuesday, May 12, 2009
London

Chrissie is slowly getting into the swing of London life–and loving it! I an thrilled at her reactions for I am certain she will now leave part of her heart in this, my beloved city!

I awoke at 7. 30 am–possibly the latest I’ve woken up in a year! Sat grading a few papers while allowing her the luxury of a long lie-in. When she did awake after 9 am, we hurried through breakfast (pain au chocolate with tea for her, cereal with yogurt and then coffee for me) and then we were off.

The Wonders of the NHS:
It was while we were at the bus stop that my cell phone rang. It was my GP calling from his clinic (or ‘surgery” as they say here) on Red Lion Street to find out why I had called earlier that morning. I told him that I needed a prescription filled for my thyroid deficiency and that my American medical insurance company was unable to help as they do not ship medications outside the USA. I wondered if he could write me a prescription which I could get filled locally. I could not believe how willingly and promptly he responded. A few questions later, the job was done. All I had to do was go by the clinic, pick up the prescription, have it filled out at a local pharmacy and then apply to Aetna Global (my American medical insurance company) for a reimbursement. The doctor was courtesy personified and I stood amazed by the ease with which he catered to my request.

Right enough, ten mintues later, after Chriselle and I had walked down to the clinic, I had my prescription in hand. Later in the day, at Boots, the pharmacist took a look at it and informed me that I was entitled to an exemption–this meant that I did not have to pay for it at all! I told her that I needed the medication desperately as my supply would soon run out. She gave me more forms and told me to take them to the clinic, have the doctor sign them and return them to her for a reimbursment! The thing about British bureaucracy is that though it is infuriatingly long-winded, it really does work! Don’t you just love that about the British? For me, the wonders of the NHS will never cease and I truly believe that the American President who manages to create a national health service in the US will truly leave his mark on history. Mr. Obama, are you listening???

Browsing Through Persephone Books:
I just had to take five mintues to introduce Chriselle to one of my favorite places in London–the Persephone Book Shop on Red Lion Street. I told her the story of its founding, a tale she loved. How amazing, she said, that the movie Brief Encounter would inspire a viewer to obtain reprinting rights for the kind of feminine fiction that was produced in that era (the 1920s to 1950s). The paperbacks are beautifully produced in a uniform grey with end papers that are based on contemporary wall paper and fabric designs. And each one comes with a matching bookmark! If you wish to have the book gift wrapped, the wrapping is always a fushia pink tissue paper and the raffia binding includes the book mark which can then double as a gift tag! How very clever! Someday I shall write a blog about my favorite London things and Persephone Books will be right at the top of it!

More Highlights at the National Gallery:
Then, we were hurrying to another bus stop to catch a bus to the National Gallery to finish seeing the remaining Highlights on the curator’s list. I provided background information on such iconic paintings as Constable’s The Haywain (readers of my blog will recall that I had actually visited Suffolk and stood on the very spot on the banks of the River Stour which forms the backdrop of this enchanting painting).

The Haywain at the National Gallery

Placing myself in Constable’s Landscape

She loved Turner too–though she professed less of a fondness for the Impressionists whose hazy depictions of reality she finds rather trying. We recalled and laughed over a line from Seinfeld in which Jerry’s father, on viewing a work by Monet, states that he believes the artist painted without wearing his glasses! Through the Gainsboroughs and the Stubbs and the Gaugins and the Seurats we traveled, taking in the magnificence of the Baroque interiors of the Gallery as well as the superb mosaics on the floor at the grand main entrance with its twin urns filled with arresting spring flowers.

The National Portrait Gallery:
Then, because the National Portrait Gallery was just next door, I suggested we take in the Highlights there as well and we headed straight to the top floor to get a peek at the Tudor portraits many of which were by Hans Holbein. This is certainly my favorite part of this museum for the paintings never fail to bring alive for me the intrigues of the era about which we chatted as we took in the serious faces depicted in oil on canvas. We walked quickly then through the rest of the galleries, pausing occasionally to take a look at more contemporary canvases such as those of Charles and Diana by Bryan Organ soon after their engagement, Judi Dench by Alessandro Raho and Salman Rushdie by the late Bhupen Khakar. No, we did not give the Gallery the length of time it deserves. We merely hurtled through the rooms to get an idea of the variety of personages portrayed within as well as the multi media forms in which they are depicted. It was at this point that I began to feel sorry that my stint in London is drawing to a close (though I still have nearly 3 months to go). I feel a certain comfort in knowing that these institutions are just down the road from where I live. Once I cross the Pond and return home to Connecticut, I know I shall miss dreadfully their nearness, their sheer accessibility.

In and Out of Harrods:
Out on the sidewalk, we sat and people-watched as we ate our cheese and cucumber rolls, then walked quickly to Piccadilly to catch a bus to Knightsbridge as I wanted to return to Harrods to buy some more gifts and claim another free London Pass holders gift–this one based on a purchase that Chriselle would make. She, poor dear, wanted to get home and take a nap before logging on to begin work. I managed to twist her arm to accompany me, she easily agreed and off we went. We were literally in and out of Harrods and back on the bus home in the next hour–though the traffic can get frustrating when you have deadlines to meet and the bus just lumbers sluggishly along!

While Chriselle worked at her laptop communicating with New York and the rest of the world, I sat grading student papers. It was peaceful and quiet in the flat as we each worked separately but still together-an atmosphere that made Chriselle remark: “What a nice life you have created for yourself here in London, Mum. I feel so envious!” She wished she could stay longer and soak in some more of it, but we are doing rather well in terms of how much we have managed to pack into her visit so far.

The Last Cigarette at the West End:
At 6. 15, the two of us closed shop and left for St. Martin’s Lane where we were meant to pick up free tickets that had suddenly landed in our lap to see The Last Cigarette at Trafalgar Studios, a play by Simon Gray that stars Felicity Kendal. Now apart from the fact that American TV viewing audience know her well through the many re-runs on American PBS TV stations (Good Neighbors, known as The Good Life in the UK and, more recently, Rosemary and Thyme), I know Felicity Kendall through my Bombay connections for her late sister Jennifer was married to Bollywood actor Shashi Kapoor and their children, Kunal, Karan and Sanjana are active in the Bombay theater scene through their family-owned Prithvi Theater at Juhu which I used to haunt during my college days in Bombay and in my later life as a Theater Critic for The Free Press Journal. So I was doubly pleased to see her on stage in real life.

The play was deeply absorbing and ingeniously staged. Three individuals (Kendall, Jasper Britton and Nicholas Le Provost) play a single individual, a writer, who is deeply addicted to nicotine and has received the news that he has malignant tumors on his lung. With just 18 months to live, the play is constructed around a monologue in which he talks about the influences that drew him to tobacco even though it killed both his father and his mother. In quite a brilliantly conceived production that demanded the utmost split-second timing in terms of delivery of lines, the three persons on stage blended into one being echoing each other’s movements and mannerisms rather wonderfully–though as Chriselle pointed out (with her astute and trained histrionic eye), that Kendall’s fussing with her hair detracted from the masculinity she was meant to portray and struck a rather odd note.

A Late Night Drink at our ‘Local’:
It was about 9. 30 when we left the theater, took a bus towards Ludgate Circus and decided to go to my ‘local’–Ye Old Mitre Pub at Hatton Garden–which dates from 1532 as I really did want Chriselle to see it. We ordered our drinks (a light beer for her and a Guinness for me) and sat ourselves in what we believed was a quiet corner of the quaint little pub. All went well for the next ten minutes until we were joined by a old man called Charles who was nice to talk to and rather friendly and interesting. It was when his anonymous friend joined us that things got more hairy and I have to say that I did not fancy being forced to make conversation with a stranger who had already had one too many!!! Chriselle later told me that my face spoke volumes of my irritation at his unwelcome company and it was not long before we bid them goodnight and beat a hasty retreat!

Back home, Chriselle wanted me to watch an episode of Arrested Development, an American TV series that she has been watching and having brought the DVD over, we did watch an episode before we both fell asleep about 11. 30 pm.

Harrods, National Gallery Highlights, In Fusion’s London Office

May11

Monday, May 11, 2009
London

Since both Chriselle and I were reeling with exhaustion (she worse than I), she had a long lazy lie-in this morning leaving me to start grading my students’ final papers while sipping my lovely Lavazza coffee. I was glad we had decided to take it easy after three whole days of go, go, go.

Buying Gifts at Harrods:
When we did leave to add a weekly bus pass each to our Oystercards, it was about 10. 15 am. Changing three buses and fighting horrendous traffic all the way to Knightsbridge, we arrived at Harrods which I was keen that Chriselle should see and because I needed to buy some gifts for my French friends in Lyon whom I shall be seeing next week on my trip to France. I was delighted to discover that the free gift available to London Pass holders (with purchase of items 25 pounds and over) was a very pretty bone china mug with the Harrods logo all over it! Chriselle also bought her New York colleagues some Harrods mementos and with our purchases all packed, we set out to discover the store. I led her to the Diana and Dodi Memorial in the basement and then on to the stupendous Food Halls which are among the best in the world (the only other store that comes close is KadeWe in Berlin whose Food Halls on the topmost floor left me salivating helplessly). Chriselle was suitably impressed (just as I thought she would be) and because it was almost 1 pm by then, we used the lovely loos downstairs and hastened out.

The Highlights of the National Gallery:
A short bus ride later, during wich we ate our tuna and sweetcorn bagel sandwiches, we were at Piccadilly and headed on foot towards Trafalgar Square to see the Highlights of the National Gallery. Using Marina Vaizey’s 100 Masterpieces of World Art, I led her through the modern Sainsbury Wing and the older, more ornate part of this marvelous receptacle of art works stopping to comment on Vaizey’s text as she examined the work and de-touring occasionally so I could show her my own favorites such as the gallery containing the work of Venetian Renaissance artist Carlo Crivelli (which left her speechless, just as I thought it would) and The Four Elements by Joaquim Beuckelaer. Despite spending almost two hours in the Gallery, we did not finish examining the 12-odd works that I hoped to introduced her to–but by then she had seen several significant ones and was bowled over by them–such as Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Marriage, Hans Holbein’s The Ambassadors, Piero della Francesca’s The Baptism and Bronzino’s Allegory. She also loved the El Greco (Christ Driving the Traders out of the Temple). I was disappointed that owing to renovations Paolo Ucello’s The Battle of San Romano is currently not on view, while most disappointing of all was the removal of my very favorite work in the entire museum–Pieter de Hooch’s Courtyard of a House in Delft (which is probably on loan to another museum at the moment). Tomorrow, we shall return and I shall show her a Constable, a Turner, a Gainsborough and a couple of French Impressionists that are particularly noteworthy. As for me, that National feels like my second home (in the same way that the ‘Met’ in New York has done for years). I walk around its galleries as if they were my own domain and no matter how many times I pass by the treasures hanging upon those walls, they never fail to stir the deepest excitement within me.

Off to Elephant and Castle:
But Chriselle had to return home so that she could pick up her laptop from my flat and head off to Elephant and Castle to the office of Fusion Telecommunications, the London branch of the company for which she works in New York as she needed to get into a conference call with her colleagues. We took a bus there that wound us past Waterloo station. Her colleague Ivana picked us up from the bus stop and led us to the premises.

While they busied themselves at work, I attempted to contact my American medical insurance company (Aetna Global) to find out how best to fill my prescription medication and have it shipped to me here in London. It was several phone calls and a good half hour later that I discovered that drugs cannot be shipped outside the USA. I will now need to call my local London GP, obtain a prescription from him, get it filled in a local London pharmacy, save the receipt, mail it off to Aetna Global and wait to be reimbursed. I am hoping I will have my pills in the next couple of days as I do not have extensive supplies left!

I took the bus back home (making the sudden discovery that the 45 runs all the way from Elephant and Castle to High Holborn over Blackfriars Bridge and the back of St. Paul’s Cathedral) and then set to work. I first made a call to my colleague at NYU-Paris to find out details about my bit of a global assignment on which we are currently working as a team. Then, I sat to fill out an Excel spreadsheet that Llew had prepared and emailed to me that details my travel and commuting expenses for NYU reimbursement. These need to reach my New York office by the end of this month. I cannot believe that I have to attend to this sort of administrative ‘stuff’ whilst I am in the midst of grading term papers! Time flew and when next I glanced at my wristwatch, it was almost 7.30 pm as I should have guessed from the rumble in my tummy. Chriselle had returned home unexpectedly early and continued working in my living room as I worked on my PC in my bedroom–stretched out out on my bed which is my preferred working position!

A Very Productive Evening:
By 8.00pm, I served myself a plate of dinner (penne pasta with grilled vegetables and a salad) as Chriselle had made dinner plans with Ivana who would be arriving to pick her up later on. With my hunger satisfied, I began to pack up my books. Now that teaching is all done for the academic year, I will be shipping my books and files back to the USA in the next couple of days. Chriselle will also be taking a suitcase and a half back home for me and in the midst of everything else with which I am dealing, I’m also making decisions about what to send back! Hopefully, in the next couple of days, I will feel more clear-headed. With four boxes packed and many books and files already boxed, I felt as if I had done a substantial evening’s work.

Ivana arrived soon enough, Chriselle left with her, I did a bit of cleaning and tidying of my flat, then escaped into the bathroom for a lovely invigorating shower, after which I sat to write this blog. I would like to grade some more papers before I fall asleep but that will depend on whether or not I have any energy left after I have done the proof reading of this installment.

London Pass with Chriselle–Day One

May8

Friday, May 8, 2009
London

Chriselle’s main concern was getting her laptop up and running to enable her to work for a few hours in the evenings. When I was unable to connect her to my wireless network, I asked Tim next door to help. He kindly came in at about 9am and got her sorted and with that, the great weight lifted off her mind and she was able to turn her attention to breakfast (toast with marmalade and tea–as she has a marked fondness for tea) before she showered and we were able to get out of my flat by 9.45 to begin our London sightseeing.

The day dawned gray and drizzly. Disappointed, we dressed appropriately and, armed with our brollies, prepared for a wet and breezy day. Good job our first stop was The Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace where I was keen to see those special treasures that her Majesty holds for the nation in her sanctum sanctorum. Chriselle had decided to gamely so along with my plans for the next 3 days as she has the next week to explore London according to her special likes.

The Queen’s Gallery:
Since we both have the 3-day London Pass and 3-day Travelcards, I have chosen sites that I have not yet paid to see–in a attempt to make fullest use of the passes. The Queen’s Gallery maintains a timed entry (allowing just a few visitors to peruse the collection at any given time). We were lucky to be admitted in immediately (at this time of year, that is not unusual, I believe) but were disappointed to hear that the Royal Mews is closed on Fridays. We might not be able to see the collection of carriages that are part of the pomp and pageantry of British royal life.

After going through security (every art gallery and basilica is beginning to feel like an airport these days), we passed through a massive set of doors and faced a really beautiful stairway whose balustrade was adorned with skillfully gilded metal tassels. Once we arrived at the landings, we were given audio guides and ushered through another set of doors that led us to the two large rooms that comprise the Gallery. Paintings and objects d’art (mainly in the form of ornate cabinets) change periodically as do the special exhibits. Like the Queen, who is a famed collector, I have a great fondness for painted porcelain, especially the kind made in the Sevres factory outside Paris in France. So I was disappointed to discover that the gallery is in a state of transition at the moment for a special exhibit on these works which will start later this month.

However, the works we did see in two rooms were truly impressive and made the visit worthwhile. Of special note, were a number of scenes of Venice by Canaletto, four gigantic works by Peter Paul Reubens (mainly collected by Charles I and later Queen Victoria), a few portraits of Charles I and his wife Henrietta Maria painted by his court painter Anthony Van Dyke, a really beautiful portrait of Queen Victoria as a little girl by her drawing tutor (whose name I wish I could remember) and–this was the highlight of the visit for us–a number of jewel-studded items gifted to the royal family and The East India Company by India’s erstwhile Maharajas during the days of the Raj. I was pleased to note that most of them were gifts and not ‘plunder’ to which the British Raj fancied itself entitled. Even so, the size of the emeralds in a pearl-studded belt had to be seen to to be believed and the pair of diamond drop ear-rings and matching brooch that were gifted to the late Queen Mother were another stunning aspect of the items on display.

The Changing of the Guard:
Since the collection was rather small (even though very significant), we were still able to catch part of the ceremony of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace where, we found that, mercifully, it had stopped raining and we were actually able to see some activity in the the large court yard. Indeed, by the time we crossed the street in front of the sculpture of Queen Victoria, the sun made an appearance and we were able to get pictures with blue skies in them! It made Chriselle remark that if you don’t like the weather in London, you can wait for five minutes–it really was a quick-change artist!

Down The Mall we walked, still feeling jaunty and full of energy, past the back of St. James’ Palace. Needless to say, I kept up a running commentary as I pointed out the sights to her, amazed myself at how much I now know about London. Crossing The Mall, we entered St. James’ Park (at which point we received a call from Llew on my cell phone–which, miraculously, I heard–just getting ready to start work in the States) and since, for some inexplicable reason, both of us were already starving, we found a bench overlooking the duck pond (where we were instructed not to feed the “wild fowl”–a term that would never have been used in the States), we ate the sandwiches I had prepared at home before setting out.

I have to be rather creative with meals, as Chriselle is a vegetarian. I, therefore, threw in everything I could find in my fridge–which this morning comprised, multi grain bread with mayonnaise, parmesan cheese and a pear (that I sliced and drizzled over with balsamic vinegar). Even I was surprised what a delicious sandwich this made. With our feet well rested, we started off again.

The Horse Guards and the Banqueting House:
Our next destination was the Banqueting House (as I was keen for Chriselle to see Peter Paul Reubens’ ceiling as commissioned by Charles I in memory of his father James I who is the main character in the centerpiece medallion). This meant that she had the opportunity to pass by the Horse Guards and click pictures with them–a matter that called to mind much earlier visits to the city when she was just nine-years old, in the company of my brother Roger.

The short film we saw on the ground floor of the Banqueting House introduced her to the history of the place. I, of course, had just seen the film two weeks ago, when my friend Loreen was visiting from Connecticut. And I realize again how little this building is visited and how important it is–architecturally (it is the work of Inigo Jones who revolutionalized English architecture after his return from Italy where he was influenced by Andrea Palladio), historically (it was from this building that Charles I was led to his execution) and artistically (it is the only building in the world that has Reubens’ ceiling paintings in situ. Chriselle gasped when she saw the ceiling for the first time after we had climbed to the first floor and was entirely engrossed in the commentary that we heard on audio wands. It was interesting to note the items that she wanted to photograph and, in a way, it was fun to see these places through her fresh and fascinated eyes.
The Churchill Museum, the Cabinet War Rooms and the England at War Exhibition:
Our next stop was the St. James’ Park end of Whitehall where I had been waiting for Chriselle’s arrival to visit the underground Cabinet War Rooms–this, I believed, would be the highlight of our day. And I was not disappointed. It was my student Kristen who, last semester, had told me how incredibly fascinating it had been to her and how I must not miss this attraction. Having never seen these rooms before, I did not intend to leave London without visiting them. I was glad that Chriselle was as enthusiastic as I was and, before long, we found ourselves underground in the world of the 1940’s that somehow brought to my mind the setting and ethos of the British detective series Foyle’s War.

The first room that greets visitors is the one used throughout the war by the Cabinet War Committee among whom the names of Churchill and Clement Atlee were the only ones familiar to me (Atlee succeeded Churchill as Prime Minister after the War and presided over the transfer of power at the time of the Independence of India). I had goosebumps while looking at the wooden swivel chair that Churchill used in the middle of this gathering. Everything has been left exactly as it was on the last day the room was used and it was strangely evocative of the inter-continental intrigues of that epoch.

The rest of the warren of underground rooms showed us the quarters of the many chiefs of staff and their administrative assistants–all of whom had cramped rooms, furnished in a utilitarian fashion with banker’s lamps in each room, maps on the wall–many still tracing the progress of important mid-century military campaigns–and even the room used by Mrs. Churchill–which, in a single seater sofa, was the only piece of furniture with a floral print! It stood out oddly in that stark environment. Also interesting was a copy of Picture Post of that era with a rather rare feature inside depicting the First Lady in her domestic milieu inside 10 Downing Street–a sort of early version of People or Hello magazine!

It was interesting to see Churchill’s engagement book that contained signatures of George VI and the current Queen entered in 1942 (long before she became Queen) and it occurred to me afresh (a fact that the film The Queen had brought to my attention) how many Prime Ministers have served during her reign! What a history of the century she encompasses within her own 80 years!

What was also interesting to me (if somewhat annoying) is the knowledge that while the rest of the country (indeed the rest of Europe) staggered under severe rationing laws, “making do” for years on end, Churchill wined and dined like a king, his daily menus comprising several courses including Beef Wellington and gallons of rich port wine and expensive bubbly! Ah, the privileges of the powerful.

Another really amazing aspect of this exhibit is a trans-Atlantic telephonic conversation that we could listen in to between President Truman of the US and Churchill discussing the progress of Himmler across Europe and the strategy designed to stop him. The accents, the diction, the style of expression, the odd formality that existed between these two so-called ‘close friends’ was antiquated and, therefore, deeply amusing, but it gave me goose flesh again to actually hear their voices and listen carefully to the stress and concern contained within them. (“No,no,no,no,no,no,no, we can’t do that. Especially when it is Himmler we’re talking about”). This is easily a place in which one could spend a whole day and I am not surprised that Kristen found it so compelling. I am so glad I finally saw the circumstances in which the fate of Europe and the world was decided and I am so gratified that these rooms have been preserved in this fantastic manner (thanks largely to the Imperial War Museum) as a gift to future generations.

Jewel Tower:
Since we were doing really well for time and the weather had suddenly turned so appealing, we decided to walk towards Parliament Square and see Jewel Tower which is run by the English Heritage and is open to London Pass holders. Llew and I had taken a self-guided walking tour entitled “Royal London” that had once guided us past this rather squat tower opposite the Houses of Parliament–but since we hadn’t climbed it then, it made sense for us to ‘cover’ it on this outing.

Passing by the exterior of the Houses of Parliament, I pointed out to Chriselle the Visitor Entrance to the sessions in both Houses and suggested that she return next week to sit in on one of them. The friendly copper outside informed us that the next sittings of both Houses will be on Monday and Tuesday from 2. 30 till 10 pm and Chriselle decided to return on Tuesday. I was also able to point out to her the “Sovereign’s Entrance” at the side which rather tickled me because while the rest of the world has the right to walk into Parliament and overhear the debates, the reigning monarch does not–he/she must knock on the ceremonial doors and request permission to enter–a custom that harks back to the days of the Magna Carta when the sovereign interfered too much in the running of Parliament–I know that I am putting this rather simplistically and there is a more complicated piece of history here that is worthy of recounting and I must look it up online.

The Jewel Tower itself is named for the fact that the Tower which was constructed in the reign of Edward III (mid 1200s) housed the royal wardrobe, part of which included the jewel- encrusted crown. 44 steps take visitors to the top along a winding spiral stone stairway that was reminiscent to me of Delhi’s Qutub Minar (at a time when visitors could climb all the way to the top, as a little girl, I had been way up there) and to Chriselle of the fairy tales she had read as a child–chiefly Rapunzel! The small exhibit upstairs was not noteworthy and after we took in the views of busy Parliament Square below us, we descended.

The Cavalry Guards Museum:
Chriselle did not need to get home until 5 pm when she needed to log on and connect with her New York team to get some work done. This, we realized, left us enough time to see the Cavalry Guards Museum which is also included in the London Pass and which faces the Horse Guards Parade. This rather small exhibit showed us the livery used by man and horse and the role played by these ceremonial guards with whom the public has posed for decades. It is the plumes, the swords, indeed the regalia, that give British royalty so much of an aura. The stables in which the horses are well looked after (we actually saw two rather quiet ones taking their rest) are also on exhibit and we could walk past the stalls and take all these sights in. Because these spaces are rather compact, however, they did not take too long to peruse and we were out rather sooner than we expected.

By Tube to Apsley House:
With time still on our side (it was only a little past 3.00 pm), we decided to take the Tube to Hyde Park Corner to see Apsley House (which I had toured a few years ago but which I was keen for Chriselle to see). This stately mansion with its beige facade dominates the circle around Wellington’s Arch and has always been one of my favorite London manors. It was gifted by a grateful nation to Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington (whose much less-liked and less-popular brother Richard had been the Governor-General of India) upon his victory at the Battle of Waterloo that ended the dynamic campaigns of France’s Napoleon across Europe. Since it was situated at the very point of entry into the city, it’s address was simply No 1 London–an address it still retains!

Inside, the visitor is given an audio guide which allowed us to negotiate our way through rooms that were crammed with paintings and sculpture beginning with the towering one of Napoleon by Antonio Canova in the landing on the ground floor that leads up to the marvelous Robert Adams’ designed stairway. The floor had to be reinforced with a supportive pillar beneath it to take the massive weight of this marble sculpture that presents a young and very athletic Napoleon in Roman guise complete with spear in his hand and sandals on his feet. It is an immensely striking sculpture and one whose image has stayed with me from my last visit to this room.

Wellesley was a master general (some would say the best England has ever had) with a gifted aesthetic side to his personality and he amassed a multitude of paintings, many so significant that the Long Gallery contains works by Old Masters that would make the National Gallery envious! There were Carravaggios and Canalettos from Italy, Jose Riberas, Velasquezes and Murillos from Spain, Jan Steens, Peter de Hoochs and Breugels the Elder from among the Flemish cohort and indeed a number of English artists including Van Dyke –all of which would take another age to see in detail. For me, the highlight of this mansion is the sterling silver centerpiece on the Dining Table that runs along its entire length–a gift from Portugal to Wellesley as the defeat of Napoleon had been a joint venture between England, Spain and Portugal. We enjoyed our visit here very much indeed and though Chriselle was concerned about the time and ensured we left there by 4. 30, she had a very pleasant visit indeed.

Back on the Tube, I showed her how to use it (so that she can find her way around the city on her own once I leave for Paris and find her way back to my building on the Central Line). Though I was quite wiped out by the time I reached home, she logged on to her computer, while I set off for Bedford Square to pick up the sheaf of papers that my students have left for me to grade as their semester winds down and final exams begin next week. It is a profoundly busy and stressful time for them and as my grading work begins, I am still trying to fit in as much time with Chriselle as possible.

Duet for One at the West End:
Back from campus, I managed a very short nap as both of us would be going out again for the evening. I had booked us tickets to see Juliet Stevenson and Henry Goodman in Tom Kempinski’s Duet for One at the Vaudeville Theater and when we got there by Tube at 7. 30, we were just in time for a performance that swept us off our feet with its histrionic virtuosity, masterful direction and excellent script.

Indeed it was a marvelous night at the theater. Though Stevenson’s role as Keira Knightley’s mother in Bend It like Beckham had first brought her to our attention, it was in this play where she played a violinist afflicted by multiple sclerosis and battling the ghosts of her past, that we realized how gifted an actor she is and how wide is her range. Indeed, she was superbly supported by Goodman who, in a much quieter portrayal as her therapist, also had his occasional outbursts that brought vitality to his role. Indeed, we could not have had a more memorable night in a London theater.

A Night Out on the Town for Chriselle:
Throughout the evening, Chriselle had been on my cell phone with her friend Rahul whom she had once known as a child in Bombay. He moved to London to work for a hedge fund and she was renewing contact with him after years. He invited her to spend the evening out with his friends and taking the bus to St. Paul’s from The Strand, I dropped Chriselle into his hands and took the bus back home as I was seriously pooped and couldn’t wait to hit my bed.

She woke me up at 3 am to tell me that despite the fact that I had given her a key, the magnetic tag would not open the door of our building downstairs. I dressed quickly and went down to open the door for her and at 3. 15, we were both back in bed again at the end of what had been an astonishing day for her in every possible respect.

Baisakhi at Trafalgar Square and The Jubilee Walk (Part 2)

May3

Sunday, May 3, 2009
London

I awoke at 6. 15 am to the realization that it was my Dad’s birthday today. Given the time difference between London and Bombay, it would be best to call him at 8 am. But then, since it is a Sunday and I’d be getting ready for church at that time, I thought it best to call him just before I left for the 9 am mass.

Between taking a look and responding to my email and proofreading this blog, it was almost 8.30 am before I got out of bed, washed and dressed and left for the 9 am mass at St. Etheldreda’s Church at Holborn Circus. I did call my Dad and had a brief word with him, my Mum and my brother Russel before I left my flat. Mass was through at 10 am when I got straight home to eat my breakfast. I have lost about six and half pounds in two weeks on my low-carb diet but I have to say that I am craving sweets and feel a deep sugar deprivation. Still, I managed to fight the urge to eat something sweet and opted instead for eggs, bacon and sausages with coffee.

Then, I sat down to transcribe the interview I had done with Marion Holley a couple of weeks ago and found that it went rather quickly as her responses had been brief. Since I did not stick to a definite questionnaire with the Holleys, I had to fit their comments into the questions I usually pose to my subjects. It was close to 2 pm when I was all done with it and ready to email it to my office to be printed.

Baisakhi with London’s Sikh Community:
It was another beautiful day in London and realizing that the Punjabi holy day of Baisaikhi was being celebrated at Trafalgar Square, I dressed and decided to take a peep at it and when I was done there to get to Great George Street to continue Part 2 of the Jubilee Walk. The bus dropped me at Trafalgar Square which was already jammed with Indians, mainly Sikhs. There was a stage erected and a musical troupe was singing some spiritual songs. On one end of the square were a number of food kiosks where free Punjabi vegetarian food was being distributed. I joined the throngs and received a plastic spoon, plate and paper napkin before the food was doled out to me: a helping of chole, a paratha (which I declined–too high in carbs), a samosa filled with peas and potatoes and a bottle of spring water. Other than the samosa which contained potatoes, I guess I didn’t too badly on the carb front. When I finished my lunch (while seated on the parapet that faces Africa House), I walked down Whitehall towards the Horse Guards Parade. I crossed the Parade Ground and arrived at the point at which I had ended Part 1 of the Jubilee Walk yesterday.

The Jubilee Walk (Part 2):
Part 2 took me to Parliament Square and then to the doors of Westminster Abbey. These, of course, are parts of the city that I have often traversed both on foot and numerous times by bus. Still, it was fun to follow the silver disks set in the pavements and to read the notes that give a brief history of each of these famous landmarks. It was exactly 2. 30 when I began my walk and by 2. 45, I was crossing St. Margaret’s Green and arriving on the opposite side of the street and entering the Millbank Gardens where I had never been before. I saw August Rodin’s sculpture The Burghers of Calais for the very first time in its London setting–I have seen other castings of the same sculpture at the Rodin Museum in Paris many years ago and, of course, there is another version in the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Petrie Court.

The Thames flowed placidly by on this clear and very pleasant afternoon. There was a slight breeze that picked up occasionally making me zip up my light suede jacket and tie my silk scarf more closely around my throat; but, for the most part, I was very comfortable temperature-wise. In the same park, I saw a the Buxton Slavery Abolition Monument with its interesting enamel decoration and conical shape and then on I went across Lambeth Bridge.

I had never been across Lambeth Bridge before and when I arrived on the South Bank of the Thames, I discovered Lambeth Palace. I had never even heard of Lambeth Palace and I wondered again how many palaces there are in this city. Right next to Lambeth Palace is the Church of St. Mary’s, Lambeth, a beautiful stone church with a flat clock-faced tower–the kind I find so evocative of the English countryside. Well, guess what? This church is not a church anymore–it is a Garden Museum! I read a notice board that explained that its conversion to a garden museum prevented it from being demolished! The museum was closed (being a Sunday) but I was able to stroll through a most charming garden that was already in full bloom.

A Garden in Shades of Pink and Purple:
I just cannot get over the fact that spring comes so early to England and then progresses so rapidly! At this time of year, daffodils are just making an appearance in New England gardens on the North Atlantic coast and it would not be until mid-June that I would see the lush growth that has already taken over the perennial flower beds in this museum garden. These beds were just gorgeous to behold and I took an endless number of pictures of plantings that had been ingeniously designed to feature a lavender color palate. There were marvelous giant irises in the softest mauve and the deepest purple. There were lovely aliums rising tall and stately in the middle of the beds. Magenta and pink flowers whose names I do not know combined with the shades of purple as did a profusion of white bushes. The design was so superb that I marveled at the talent of the gardener who had conceived of these combinations. Though the notes informed the visitor that this was a particularly difficult part of the garden to plant and maintain, you certainly could not guess that fact. I enjoyed this garden so much that I spent a few minutes on a bench near an iron fountain that wasn’t playing but which brought a nice focal point to the landscape.

Then, I was crossing the road and walking for a long while along the Albert Embankment taking in the sights of the Houses of Parliament across the river and all the time approaching the London Eye. This is a particularly quiet part of the river walk and is a marked contrast to the other side that you arrive at after you stroll under Westminster Bridge.

Below Westminster Bridge:
From this point on, the activity becomes rather frenzied as the crowds thicken. Again, this is a part of the Embankment that I have never walked through and I was amazed at how many tourist attractions are crammed in its vicinity. There is the London Aquarium, the Museum of Movies (there was a Charlie Chaplin double on a balcony above entertaining the crowds below), and, of course, this is the boarding point for the London Eye. This was one attraction I have not been on and really did want to do; but I figured I would do it when Chriselle got here and now with her change in program, I don’t think there will be time for me to fit it in. I shall certainly do it with Llew when he comes back here in July.

So on I went, after I took a few pictures of the London Eye and this time I was headed towards Waterloo Bridge–a section of the South Bank that was simple chockful of street side entertainers all along the border of the Jubilee Gardens. There were singers and dancers and musicians, jugglers and costumed characters of all kinds. They vied for attention and the competition was stiff. I realized that with the weather having changed for the better, these guys will now be out in droves entertaining the flocks of tourists who pay good money just to pose with them.

I went back the British Film Institute and the Hayward Gallery and the National Theater and by then it was 4. 30 and my feet had had enough for the day. I climbed the stairs, found myself on Waterloo Bridge and took the bus back home.

A Productive Evening at Home:
At 5 pm, when I reached home, I was hungry and my craving for sugar hadn’t abated one bit. I decided that I just had to give in, having been so good for 2 whole weeks–so I ate a scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam and a pot of Sainsbury’s hazelnut yogurt and I felt replete. This certainly satisfied my sweet tooth but probably did extreme damage to my metabolism that hasn’t had to process sugar for a long while. OH well!!! I refuse to feel remorseful about giving it to temptation. Since it was such a late tea, I decided that I would not probably have myself a dinner tonight.

At this point, I spent more than an hour of the evening doing something I have been meaning to do for a whole year–send out Thank you notes to all the folks who had walked down Memory Lane with me last July when Chriselle had sent out requests for items for a Golden Memories Album for my birthday. I had imagined that this would take much longer than it actually did and now I can’t understand why I waited for such a long time to send out these messages.

I sat to make a few calls to my relatives and friends and then decided to do something else I have been meaning to do for a long while–have myself a long soak in the bath tub. Now that I have to vacate this flat at the end of the month, I want to savor all its pleasures and I began by running a bath and pouring a few drops of fragrant Pomegranate Noir bath oil in it by Jo Malone. Then I lit myself a grapefruit scented candle, dimmed the lights low, found a copy of The English Home magazine and gave myself up to the delights and comforts of a long and very leisurely soak.

Then, I got ready for bed, for I was feeling extremely dehydrated after my soak. I wrote this blog, checked to make sure I had no more email from my students who are looking for feedback on their final essays… and then I finally fell asleep.

In Search of Burberry and The Jubilee Walk (Part 1)

May2

Saturday, May 2, 2009
London

I awoke at 4. 00 am today (groan!!!) and I could not sleep after that. So, I switched on my bedside lamp and began reading The Order of the Phoenix for an hour. At 5. 30, I felt sleepy again, dropped off (thank goodness!) and then awoke at 7 am.

Email, calls to India (to my brother Roger and my nephew) and I was ready to make myself some coffee. Holborn was silent as a graveyard (as it usually is on weekends). This weekend will be quieter than usual as it is the long “Early May Bank Holiday” (whatever that means!) weekend and I guess most people will have travelled out of town. I carried a tray with my coffee and other paraphernalia to my bed and began to work on a revised itinerary for Chriselle’s trip.

There were numerous calls to make. I phoned Bishop Michael at St. Paul’s to reschedule the tour of the Cathedral that he had set up for us this morning as well as our afternoon tea plans at The Wolsley Hotel and then the Backstage Tour at the National Theater. I also booked tickets for us to see Romeo and Juliet at the Globe Theater and finally I booked our 3-day London Pass which includes 3-day Travelcards because they are being offered at a special May Day 10 % discount rate and I figured I might as well take advantage. What with all this stuff to do, I could only have my breakfast at 11 am (eggs and bacon and sausages–yes, still low-carb).

Buying a Trench coat at Burberry:
By then it was almost 11. 30 and with the sun shining so beckoningly outside, I decided to do something I have wanted to do for a long while–get to the Burberry Factory Store in Hackney to buy myself a new trench coat. This was definitely something I wanted to take back home to the States and having done some research, I discovered that rates are best in this factory outlet. Though it is quite a hike into Hackney, I figured that with my bus pass, I could get there quite easily. Besides, there is a direct bus that goes from right outside my building (the 242) all the way to the far side of the East End.

And then since I was going to Hackney, I figured I would also visit Sutton House, a National Trust property that is not very well-known. Using the internet, I found directions to the venue and off I went. The bus trundled along within a few seconds of my arriving at the bus-stop. En route, I graded a bunch of student essays–so the ride was very productive for me. We passed the busy Bank of England area and went further and further into Shoreditch, past the Geffrye Museum and into an area that I had never traversed before. Before long, I was at Hackney Central mainline station and on my way to the Burberry store.

This part of London is entirely different from anything I have seen so far. First of all, it is all rather run down. Secondly, I passed a series of auto body shops that ran parallel to the railway line. Auto mechanics were the only people on this entire road. Thirdly, the population demographic had changed completely and I realized that I was right in the heart of Black Britain–there were loads of people with Caribbean accents all around the place–many recent immigrants among them. The bus stops were teeming with people and there was no sign of a queue of any kind.

I was amazed at how many people were at the Burberry store before me! It turns out that there was a big Sale on–now whether this sale was only for this weekend or has been on for a while, there was no telling. Many of the racks were all cleaned out–which probably means I had arrived at the tail end of it. The space is large and the amount of items to be perused was rather confusing. I did manage to find the racks that held the khaki trench coats that I wanted and in a few minutes I found one in my size–thank goodness they have American and European sizes listed on the labels–this made it easy for me to find the size I was seeking. The price was right, the fit was good, the decision was made. With my coat under my arm, I went looking for a scarf in their signature beige tartan and, guess what? I ended up buying the very last cashmere one on the shelf!!! These were exactly the two things I had hoped to find and as soon as I spotted them, I swooped on them and headed to the till. There was a long line ahead of me–people were buying clothing as if it were going out of style! Thousands of pounds worth of merchandise changed hands before my eyes as the line inched forward slowly. Then, with my buys safely in my possession and the VAT refund slip helpfully filled out by the sales clerk, I was on my way.

The National Trust’s Sutton House:
I asked for directions and in about ten minutes, I was at Sutton House, my next port of call. This is a really nondescript building clad in dark brick with a rather sombre look to it. Once inside, I found it rather empty. There was an assistant in the shop and a small cafe at the back (with very reasonably priced eats and drinks), a small courtyard garden that was quite delightful with its climbing vines and potted flowers. And then my tour of the house began.

Sutton House is a Tudor building that was built by one Ralph Sadleir in the middle of the 1500s. He was a close confidant of the King and played a major role in the politics of the reign of Henry VIII being involved in the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538. As a nobleman, his home boasted some of the trappings of the day that pronounced status and power such as the oak wood panelling that is still to be found in many of the rooms. My very favorite pattern of Tudor panelling called Linenfold Paneling is evident in the Grand Room on the ground floor. The carving on the wood looked like folded, or more correctly, pleated cloth. I had been most taken by this feature of interior decor at Hampton Court Palace about five years ago when Llew, Chriselle and I had spent the day there. Little did I think that I would have the chance to see it again–and this time I was delighted because I was able to take pictures of it as well (something that is forbidden at Hampton Court).

My self-guided tour took me upstairs into a few more rooms that boast more carved panelling and some paintings including one of Sadleir and his later 18th century descendants painted by a female portraitist called Mary Beale–a rather unusual find as women portraitists were so rare at the time. There were other rooms in the house (A Georgian Parlor, for instance and a Victorian dining room) but other than its age, there was really nothing that this property can boast and I wondered why the National Trust even bothers to run it (since not many people bother to visit it).

On the floor at the very top of the house, while I was inspecting a large mural that was presumably painted by squatters who had taken over the house during its transition into the care of the National Trust, I heard a buzzing sound (as if made by a bumble bee) and then a rustling. I have to say that I panicked as there was no one else in the room with me and no one around on that floor at all. My mind went immediately to a ghost as so many of these old London homes have resident ghosts in them and the last thing I wanted was to feel someone or something brush past me or tap me on the shoulder! I got the heck out of there as fast as I could and decided that if I am going to explore any more of these National Trust properties, I had better go to homes that are crowded with visitors. These deserted, even neglected, properties might be filled with interesting antiques and night hark back to fascinating epochs of history but they do give me the creeps!

A short walk later, I was back at Hackney Central and boarding the 242 bus home. My papers were graded on the bus and with a stack under my arm, I got back home to have a very late lunch (it was 4 pm and I was hungry but contented myself with a cup of soup and a salad). I spoke to Llew on the phone for a few minutes, then sat to rewrite my interview with Henry Holley–it required a great deal of restructuring to fit my questionnaire format and proofreading before I could send it off to my office for printing. By the time I finished, it was about 7 pm and with daylight still streaming through my bedroom window, I decided to set out on another one of my ambitions while in London–the Completion of the Jubilee Walk.

I had intended to do this when Chriselle came here but now with her plans having changed, we will not have the time to do it together and with the weather so perfect and my feet feeling much stronger, I figured I could complete it in the next few days before Chriselle’s arrival. So I picked up the Map and my bus pass and set out while the evening was still young.

The Jubilee Walk–Part One:
The Jubilee Walk is a 14-mile walking path that snakes over Central London’s most significant sights. It was created in 1977 in the year of the Silver Jubilee of the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. If you have seen silver disks every so often set into London’s pavements and wondered what those are…well, they mark the path of the Jubilee Walk. There is a crown in the center and the cross set in it always points in the direction in which the walker should proceed. There are several walkers, I understand, who just about do the entire walk in a day–while others do it over a period of a few days. I decided to do it in about 5-6 installments.

The bus took me to Leicester Square where the walk begins. Since the evening was so perfect, there were scores of people in Leicester Square and for the first time in my life, I actually noticed all of its many interesting features. I have to say, somewhat ashamedly, that I had never noticed the sculpture of Shakespeare right in its center! Nor had I noticed the one of Charlie Chaplin close by! There is a bust of Hogarth at one of the gates. Probably I did not notice these before because I had never entered this park. All I have done is skirt its periphery or make my way to the half-price theater ticket booth at one end

This time, armed with my camera, I took several pictures and then made one more discovery. Just as there are palm prints set in cement outside Grumman’s Chinese Theater in Hollywood, California, so too there are palm prints cast in metal all along one side of the Leicester Square Park. The palm prints, of course, belong to eminent contemporary British actors such as Kenneth Branagh, Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant and Colin Firth not to mention Pierce Brosnan, Roger Moore and Sean Connery (James Bonds all!). Gosh, I thought, this walk is going to open my eyes to things I have passed by a gazzillion times and never noticed!

Then, I followed the crown discs and walked alongside the National Gallery where Baisakhi (a spiritual festival of the Punjabi Sikhs of North India) is to be celebrated tomorrow. I saw kiosks set up all over the square and thought I should go across for some Indian food. At each point, during the Jubilee Walk, the map I was carrying gave me details about the history and importance of the place and I quite enjoyed discovering new facts about each venue.

In The Mall, I passed under Admiralty Arch and the statue of the Duke of York on its towering pedestal and then I was walking alongside St. James Park (London’s oldest, I discovered, created in the mid-1500s) while the Mall was created in the mid-1600s. Most of the flowering trees are at their peak now and soon foliage will cover every branch and give every corner of this city a completely different look. I arrived at Buckingham Palace at the end of the Mall and discovered why it is so called. It started its life as a simple town house that belonged to the Dukes of Buckingham and I believe that the first British monarch to inhabit it was Queen Victoria!

Around St. James’ Park I went. The light was starting to fade away at about 7.45 pm and I had to hurry with the pictures I composed. There was a profusion of lovely spring flowers in the beds around the sculpture of Queen Victoria as past the grand gates I went and noticed so many lovely perennial flower-beds in the Park that sported an abundance of spring color as the azaleas have started to bloom in hot shades of pink and red and orange. Very striking indeed!

This time, I turned and walked the length of the Birdcage Walk and rounded the corner to arrive at the Cabinet War Rooms (which I hope to visit on the London Pass once Chriselle gets here) and the sculpture of Lord Clive of India dominating the grand steps that connect the two impressive buildings. Before long, I was passing the back of Number 10 Downing Street, the residence of the British Prime Minister since the mid-1700s, and found myself at the Horse Guards Parade where a number of stands have been set up around the periphery. I asked a friendly bobby what they were in aid of and he told me “Beating the Retreat and Trooping the Color”. I had no idea what either of these things meant and he explained that they were ceremonies associated with the Queen’s Birthday in June. He also told me that tickets are available and that I could purchase one if I went online. I made a mental note to find out more when I got home.

By this point, I was tired, it was 8. 30 and dusk had fallen. I could not longer take any pictures and I decided to stop and continue the Walk tomorrow. I reached the nearest bus stop and caught the buses that brought me home at a little after 9 pm for my dinner of fried cod (M&S) with a salad that I fixed with everything I could find in my fridge (romaine lettuce, feta cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, fresh apricots, and a dressing of mayonnaise, mustard, olive oil, salt, and pepper. I watched Masterchef At Large on UK TV’s Food channel (in which there is a contestant called Michelle who, I suspect, is a South Indian Christian probably from Mangalore or Goa. She has been churning out a variety of typically Indian dishes–minced meat cutlets, Hyderabadi biryani and shrikhand with fresh mangoes. She has made the list of semi-finalists, so naturally, I am now rooting for her).

Then, at 10 pm, I sat down to bone up on my French (in preparation for my forthcoming trips to Paris and Lyon in France in the coming weeks) and sat down to write this blog. I finally felt sleepy at about 11. 30 pm and decided to call it a day. Hopefully, I will not wake up at 4 am tomorrow morning!

Visiting Ham House and an Afternoon with Stephen Tomkinson

Apr29

Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Richmond, Surrey

It seems as if I am sleeping longer as the days are getting longer. This morning, I awoke at 7 am–not too bad at all and a far cry from 5 am. which had been my usual wake-up time for months! It left me enough time to write my blog, read 40 pages of The Order of the Phoenix and catch up with email.

I got out of bed after 10 am, showered, had my breakfast and left the house for my long bus ride to Richmond. I ran two quick errands before I boarded the bus–I had to return a battery I had bought from Maplin for a refund and I had to hand in a refund form to London Underground–I had bought a Day Travelcard on the day I traveled to Norwood and not knowing that it was also valid on the bus network, I had spent 4 pounds buying two separate bus tickets for which, I was told, I was entitled to a refund–which the clerk told me would take 21 working days! Don’t you just marvel at the way British bureaucracy works??!!

Well, I used the time aboard the bus to grade papers on what was another fabulous day. Warm sunshine and the slightest hint of a breeze made it particularly lovely. I made swift and easy connections and arrived at Richmond Tube Station at 12. 15 pm at which point I connected with another bus (the 371) that took me to Ham Street. On the bus I entered into friendly and enlightening conversation with a lovely lady from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, who has lived in London for 35 years. She told me of other places to nearby visit but I simple did not have the time.

My idea was to try and squeeze in a quick visit to Ham House, also in Richmond, that is run by the National Trust. Since I have a membership to the Royal Oak Foundation (the American equivalent), I get free entrance to all National Trust-run properties which have only recently re-opened for the season. Since Richmond’s Ham House is one of these, I figured I would see it today.

It was a 10 minute hike from the bus stop to the gate of Ham House which looks far less impressive on the outside than it is within. It also has extensive formal gardens but since I had only an hour in which to check it out, I made straight for the house. Two very helpful female volunteers provided me with the brochures that would make my visit more enjoyable and suggested I go to “the Dairy” to watch the 10 minute film that gives a brief history of the house. This was exactly what I did and 15 minutes later, I made my way to the upper floor past a very small chapel, having acquired a good background about the house and its former inhabitants.

The wooden staircase is richly carved and very impressive indeed and on the upstairs landing, you are greeted by a number of 17th and 18th century members of aristocracy who gaze at you from the gilded frames of several oil portraits. The same large number of oil portraits, many by Peter Lely, are to be found in the Long Gallery, as also a large number of cabinets in ivory, Japanese lacquer and marqueted wood. The grand rooms on the ground floor speak of the wealth of the house’s inhabitants, prime among them being Elizabeth Murray whose parents originally owned the house. She married well (I forget the name of her first husband) and her husband’s wealth helped her maintain the grand home.

But Civil War broke out and very shortly, she was widowed. During Cromwell’s reign, she acted as a spy for the supporters of Charles II in exile in France (placing her life in jeopardy) and was richly rewarded for her loyalty to him when he returned to the throne in 1660 to make her a Countess. This led to her second married to the Duke of Lauderdale which furthered her power, prestige and wealth and allowed her to extend Ham House adding the opulent rooms that we see today. However, she died in poverty, easily and quickly forgotten by the royal circle within which she had revolved. Her descendants approached the National Trust, a few years ago, to maintain the house for them and visitors today are led into the intrigue and prestige of the 17th century in the rooms that were created for the visits of Queen Catherine of Braganza and her entourage.

I would dearly love to return to Ham House and Gardens and perhaps shall do so when I spend a night with Stephanie at her place in Richmond. The banks of the Thames outside London are strewn with such grand estates (Syon House is one other) and now that the weather is changing and I am free of teaching duties, perhaps I can try to see the National Trust ones.

But I had other plans for the afternoon, so by 1.45, I made my way outside, back to the bus-stop and arrived in Richmond in time for my 2. 30 pm show of Tim Firth’s Sign of the Times that starred only two actors–Stephen Tomkinson (whom I was delighted to see in the flesh after having seen him on TV in Ballykissangel) and Tom Ward. They played each other off very well in a gently amusing comedy in which Tomkinson showed his versatility by playing a character that was very different from his role in Ballykissangel where he played Fr. Peter Clifford. I munched on an apple and a peach and some pistachios in the theater–my lunch–until I bought myself a Scotch Egg at Tescos after the show and had myself a very nice afternoon at the theater.

Then, I was on the bus again headed for the city–using the drive to continue grading my papers and getting a neat batch done. But when the bus passed through Kensington High Street, I could not resist the temptation to alight and on impulse I entered Holland Park to take some pictures of the Kyoto Garden and the Orangery as I had my camera with me. I spent the next hour in these lovely environs, surrounded by flowers and twittering birds and the fragrance of wisteria and lilacs in every possible shade of purple. The Kyoto Garden has become one of my very favorite parts of London and with the azaleas in bloom in shades from soft pink to hot magenta, I was enchanted. I took my pictures, then sat on a bench overlooking the small waterfall and graded more papers as I enjoyed the perfect temperature of this gorgeous day. I had waited all winter long for days like these and now that they are here with us, I want to enjoy as much of them as I can out-of-doors.

By 7. 30 pm, I was back home, chatting with Llew on the phone and proofreading a bunch of travelogues I had written before I mail them off to my friends with my April newsletter.