Tag Archive | British Museum

Last Day in my Ealing Flat and Seeing the Elgin Marbles Again

Nov18

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

London

It was with the greatest sadness that I woke up on my last day in my Ealing flat. I had felt so completely comfortable in the space and in the area that everything I did today seemed super poignant–my last breakfast in front of the TV, my last shower in the giant round bath tub with the generous rain shower head, my last blog post hammered out as I lay propped up in my bed…

Somehow the morning passed as I was a ball of tension. I had so many things to fit into my two suitcases that it seemed as if I would never get everything in. Needless to say, I had a bunch of other smaller bags as the spillover from my cases found a place in them.

At 11.00 am, my friend Cecil arrived for a chat and to say goodbye. He is my physician-friend whose son had rented the flat to me. Cecil will always be a good friend and I felt extremely grateful to him that he offered me his son Stuart’s flat at a time when I felt the great need to move to some place in which I would feel more at home. We chatted for about  45 minutes and then he left me with a hug and a hand shake.

I ate the last of the items I had kept out on the kitchen counter–a very strange lunch indeed with odds and ends. I then called a cab and the mini cab company responded by sending a lovely guy to me in about 20 minutes. He turned out to be a Sri Lankan who was extremely helpful. He very kindly helped me get all my stuff into his cab and off we drove to Bloomsbury to my office at NYU where I would be stashing my cases and leaving for Italy with only a backpack.

Back in my office, I made sure I had everything in place. The, with about two hours on my hands before I left for my friend Roz’s place in Battersea where I would be spending the night, I hotfooted it to the British Museum–which rather handily, is just next door to my office.

In the British Museum:

I had the best time savoring those Greek and Roman bits and bobs that I dearly love. I looked carefully at the Rosetta Stone. I went to say Hello again to the Caryatid who once stood with five of her sisters holding up the roof of the Erecthion on the Acropolis in Greece. I always feel a bit sorry for her–I am sure she must miss her sisters! There were so many new items I saw that I had never noticed before in those few galleries.

And finally, I did get to the Elgin Marbles–I always forget how dirty they are. I expect to see pristine white marble–but, of course, they could never look clean after so many centuries. I took my time, I perused them carefully, especially the horse’s head that I so love. And on my way out, I paused to see the lion hunts on the Assyrian bas-reliefs that are so realistic.

When the museum closed, I left and went back to my office to pick up my backpack and make my way to Roz’s home. I got hopelessly stuck at Victoria waiting for the 44 bus for almost an hour on an evening that was dreadfully cold. But eventually, the bus did come and Roz suggested I get off at Battersea Public Library from where she picked me up in her car and drove me to Clapham Junction so that I could get a ticket for the train that I would take early the next morning. With our errand accomplished, we then drive off for dinner.

Dinner at L’Antipasto:

We met our friend Antonio who is well-known to Roz as the proprietor of L’Antipasto. It was my treat to Roz who is always so generous about sharing her home with me. She had lasagna and I had the chicken breast with a lemon and mushroom sauce which was just delicious. We really did gab throughout our meal and all the time I tried to suppress feelings of nervousness about launching on a trip all by myself to Sicily–Mafia Country.

Still, when I fell into bed that night, I felt a lot more relaxed. I kept my alarm for 4.00 am as I had called a cab for 4. 30 am to take me to Clapham Junction from where I’d be taking the train to Gatwick airport for my 8. 30 am flight to Catania in Sicily.

Wish me luck…it is a daunting trip and I am nervous….

Until I am able to blog again, cheerio…

Sunday in London: Mass and Lunch with Student’s Family, Ribeiro Talk and Exhibition

Nov7

Sunday, November 6, 2016

London

I survived today on four hours sleep–turned off light last night at 12. 45 pm and awoke at 5.00 am (wretched body clock!)–which explains why I was dozing off each time I sat on a Tube train. Still, undaunted by the early hour and lack of sleep, I hammered out two blog posts and revised itinerary for Llew and my coming travels in France. It seems that Llew is reluctant to drive long distances and buying French Rail Passes might be a better alternative. Checking websites and scouring the map took up a good lot of my time.

Not to mention packing! Yes, I am in Moving Mode again as I leave for Italy early on Thursday morning and will need to vacate my Ealing flat on Wednesday evening–I shall spend that night with my friend Roz in Battersea. So, I find myself once again juggling logistics in my mind and on paper as well as preparing for my talks–two of them: one at NYU here in London on Tuesday and another at the University of Padua later next week. In-between I have travels in Sicily to prepare for and more logistics to sort out–such as getting boarding passes for my Ryanair flights.

It was my goal to get out of the house by 10.00 am for the 11.00 Mass in Kensington. Breakfast done (toast with Nutella, Peanut butter–both almost over–butter and lemon curd with coffee), I showered super quickly and left my flat on scheduled.

On the Tube and off to Mass:

In keeping with my goal of attending Mass at a different church each Sunday, this week I was at Kensington. I had made plans to spend the morning with my former student Elise and her lovely family–husband James and children Thomas and Elektra. Since they attend the 11.00 Mass at Christchurch, Kensington, it was there that we planned to meet. A pub lunch would follow.

Yes, I did get a few zzzzs on the Central Line train–I got off on time, though, at Bond Street and then changed to the District Line going south and got off at Kensington High Street. From the Tube station, it was a pleasant walk to the church which is on Victoria Street on a dead end. I walked past really posh terraced housing under sunny skies on a very chilly morning. It is winter in London already and I am very grateful for my warm layered clothing. It was a joy to pass under a fig tree that had ripe fruit scattered under it. Never in London have I seen such a sight–a fig tree laden with dark plumb figs is something I associate with the Mediterranean–Greece or Italy. This was a cheering sight.

Mass at Christchurch, Kensington:

It was lovely to see Elise just as I was entering the church which is tucked away in a secret corner of Kensington that no one except for faithful parishioners have heard about. It is a Victorian Gothic church, built about 160 years ago–very young by the standard of most London churches, but still deeply atmospheric. It is undergoing refurbishment and extension (as most churches seem to be), but it was still a beautiful space in which to pray.

I met Elise right at the entrance as she walked down the road with daughter Elektra. We hugged and kissed and went inside to find James and Thomas and a number of other people bustling around and getting ready for the service.

One of the things about going to a different church each Sunday–mostly Anglican, sometimes Catholic–is that I have had the chance to see how much church services can differ even within the same church system. In the Catholic church, there are no variations: all over the world, the Mass is exactly the same in terms of the order of the liturgy and emphasis in terms of doctrinal teachings. Of course, there are some variations depending on the circumstances of each church. Some have large impressive choirs, some don’t. Some have family masses when children are permitted to come up to the altar during the homily while some don’t allow anyone at the altar.

This Mass, however, was what is called a service in a ‘High’ church. They had a very good choir (many from the local colleges of music as the Royal College of Music and the Imperial College of Music are close by and singers are recruited from those institutions) but their music was Modern–no Gregorian chants for them. This music was almost atonal–not my cup of tea, to be frank.  There was also a great deal of emphasis on the Word–Readings were lengthy and from unfamiliar books of the Bible (I have never heard of Habakuk, for instance, and the Word was from him this morning).

As it turned out, Elise did the Reading today–it was her first time, but she did a grand job. The regular pastor Mark was on vacation–the priest who stood in for him then based his entire sermon on the Word with frequent references to specific verses of it. Also, the order of the Mass was very different to what I am accustomed: the Lord’s Prayer was said not just before Communion, but right at the end of the Mass. Little things like this made the service extremely different for me. It was a very nice way to begin my Sunday, however, and I am beginning to realize more than ever what a good idea it was to go to different churches and worship in them.

Lunch at The Builder’s Arms:

Elise’s ‘local’ is called The Builder’s Arms–it is a lovely pub. Again, being tucked away as if in secret, I am certain that its traffic is mainly local residents. Elise’s family descends upon it every Sunday after Mass for lunch. The children seem to know the menu well and go directly for the Fish and Chips. Since I am an adult and Britain is known for its traditional Sunday Roast, I decided to go for the platter than had both Roast Beef and Roast Loin of Pork served up with Yorkshire Pudding, Roasted Potatoes and Carrots and what looked like Bubble and Sqeak–a semi-mush of cabbage and onions–came with it. Gravy poured over the Yorkshire Pudding was flavorful and glossy and a rich deep dark brown–oh and very delicious. It was a feast fit for a king.

Wolfing down pub grub gave us the opportunity to catch up and we chatted non-stop. In almost 25 years of teaching at NYU, Elise still remains my star student. It is a huge joy to be in touch with her after all these years. Today, fully occupied with a lawyer husband and two lively children, she is coping with full-time motherhood as best she can–albeit with more help than most British mothers can enjoy. We talked about the kid’s schooling, about the US elections, about the saga of my accommodation situation here in London and the reasons why I moved from the East End to Ealing. Every second with Elise was precious as I get to see her rarely and never leave without feeling awed by everything she has accomplished. James too has become a dear friend through the years–so it is always fun to hook up with him too. As for the kids? Well, they seem to grow by leaps and bounds and their energy never fails to amaze me.

After lunch, Elise suggested we go over to their new home for coffee. It turned out to be one of those lovely terraced houses in Kensington. They now occupy two floors of a three storey home that belongs to James’ family. It was delightful to be inside one of these Victorian homes that have broad staircases, ornamental plaster moldings on the ceiling and so much character. Coffee was lovely and although I would have loved to have stayed longer, I had to leave for my next appointment. But not before the children insisted on showing me their playroom and their bedroom. So I ended up getting the Grand Tour of the house which was simply wonderful. Overall, I could not have spent a better morning or been in better company.

Off to the British Museum for Ribeiro Lecture:

I had to rush off after saying my goodbyes to this beautiful family–as I needed to get to the British Museum for my next appointment: a talk on the artist Lancelot Ribeiro with whose work I had become acquainted at Burgh House last weekend in Hampstead.

James gave me directions to the Tube station at Gloucester Road from where I took the Piccadilly Line to Holborn and walked to the British Museum from there. The lecture was in the basement and was given by Nicholas Treadwell who had arrived from Austria where he currently lives. He initiated the first ever Mobile art gallery in the UK and way back in the 1960s began taking art to varied neighborhoods to get common people to buy. He represented the work of South Asian artists such as Sadanand Bakhre, F.N. Souza (Ribeiro’s half-brother) and, of course, Ribeiro himself. His talk was very informal–more a matter of memoir rather than an academic or scholarly assessment of Ribeiro’s work or the need to re-examine in again after all this time. It was held in an auditorium and had about 150 people in attendance. The session ended with a short film on the current retrospective exhibition at Burgh House and a few thank you words from Marsha, Ribeiro’s daughter. She invited everyone to then travel to Grosvenor Gallery at Mayfair for a Reception and a viewing of works by Bakhre, Souza and Ribeiro.

Off to the Grosvenor Gallery to see Ribeiro’s Work:

On my way out, I began a conversation with a lady who seemed headed off to the same place–she was also at the lecture. Her name is Devika and we decided to travel together to Mayfair. I spend the next couple of hours with her as we arrived at the art gallery and perused the work on display. There was not a lot of it–a single room had about 35 works on display from all three artists. There were a few Ribeiro Town Scapes on display but there were also several original Rajasthani miniatures on sale.

I had a glass of sparkling wine and a few nibbles as I examined the works on display. Then, I said goodbye to Devika, thanked her for her company and left at about 5. 45pm.

I took the Tube back home (needless to say, I dozed off again!) and reached home at 6.30 pm. I thought I would pick up some chocolates to take to India from Morrison’s, but it closes at 5 pm on Sunday. I have to get used to the fact that supermarkets are not open 24/7 in the UK as they are in America

Early Dinner and Bed:

Feeling quite drained from lack of sleep, I decided to make an early night of it. I surveyed the items remaining in my fridge, fashioned a salad for myself as well as a plate of ravioli with cheese sauce and watched a bit of Only Fools and Horses as I ate. As I was falling asleep by the end of my meal, I merely texted Llew to say goodnight and fell into bed at 9.00 pm.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

 

Work (Mostly) with a Nip into the British Museum

Nov1

Monday, October 31, 2016

London

On Halloween Morning:

Halloween dawned appropriately fog-ridden. Britain has only recently got into the act as the holiday frenzy has crossed the pond. I wondered if I should stock some candy for eager-beaver trick or treaters…but at the end of the day, literally, no one came ringing my door bell!

Still, I awoke at 5.30 am and began tackling my To-Do List for the day while still in bed–which is my wont. Between drafting two blog posts (for the past two days), revising and finalizing my October newsletter and reviewing my travel arrangements for the next couple of days (when I will be in Leeds), time galloped. Next thing I knew, it was about 10.00 am and I had not yet had my breakfast!

So brekkie followed swiftly–a croissant and a bagel with spreads that I am fast trying to finish. I made myself a sandwich (cheese and pickle) for lunch and thought I would carry it to NYU and eat it there. But after a shower and a chat with my Dad in Bombay, it was already about 11.00 am and I thought I would simply stay on at home and continue my itinerary prep for my upcoming travels in Italy and then in the Holy Land and France later in November. It was about 12. 30 when I stopped, decided to have my lunch right here at home (I toasted my sandwich and had it with a cup of soup) and it was only at 1. 30 that I left the house for my office.

At Work at NYU:

I had two major items to be accomplished today before I boarded the coach for Leeds early tomorrow morning: I had to send off my entire manuscript of my book to Eric at Lexington Books–my deadline was today, October 31. And I had to contact the travel agency that handles my ticketing for return to the US as I need to extend my stay in the UK for one more week as I have been invited to give a lecture at Oxford at the end of January. (I can hear my friend Ian chuckling–anything, he will say, to extend your time in the UK. Anything!)

I sent the manuscript off and received an acknowledgement very quickly. What a relief it was to see about ten years of work go off to be printed! When next I see my words, I hope they will be in print.

As for the ticket, it was easy to get a representative on the phone but she needed to do some research and promised to get back to me within the hour.

I took care of other pending email responses, then since I was waiting for Heidi from Egencia to get back to me with an email which would then involve my next call to the US, I decided to spend the time fruitfully by nipping off next-door to the British Museum. An hour would be all I’d need to see the Elgin Marbles again.

At the British Museum:

I reached the Museum at 4.l5 pm–which left me about an hour until closing time at 5. 30 pm. This time I headed straight to the Greek galleries and thought I would go straight to the Parthenon Marbles….but, as always, I got sidetracked! I spent a while at the Rosetta Stone (I did peruse it carefully and read all the curatorial notes…what an amazing find that was, really!)

Then, I thought I would see some of the more arresting pieces–like the colossal head of Ramesses and a couple of the sarcophagi. I darted in and out of rooms and saw many bits of the Museums I had never seen before: friezes from other tombs, for instance. The Payava Tomb that has a whole gallery to itself, the huge figures of Mosollus and Artemisia surrounded by fragments of friezes from their tombs, a really stunning sculpted dog that is larger than life-size, so many small busts of poets like Sophocles and Socrates, the famous Nereid Altar and one of my favorite pieces in the museum–the Caryatid from the Erectheion on the Acropolis–the only original in the UK (the rest are now in the New Acropolis Museum in Athens where I had seen them) with copies now adorning the actual site. There is something wonderfully regal about her–but also something sad (I have a feeling always that she is lonely and misses her friends).

Finally, I did get to the Elgin Marbles and I did have the time to read all the information available in the adjoining room before I went in there. This time, the more I thought about it, the more I felt that these pieces are best retained by the British Museum in London–there is so much controversy about their return to Greece, but I realized that there are a great many in Athens today and that the ones in the British Museum are only a small fraction of the great treasure that once adorned the Acropolis.  I also always forget how ‘dirty’ they are–how soiled in a way. Somehow I always expect to find almost translucent marble sculpture staring at me–but they have dulled with time and the effects of the explosion in 1687 that shook the structure and destroyed much of it.

On my way out, I stopped at the adjoining gallery to see the Near Eastern treasures of the Persians indicated by the massive bull-man sculptures. The Assyrians bas-reliefs of the Lion Hunt were vivid (but oh so cruel)–so detailed, so carefully wrought, so impressive.

I left the British Museum at 5.25 just a few minutes before closing time. I got a shock when I stepped outside as night had fallen and it was so dark! Five minutes later, I was in my office. My email from Egencia had arrived and they asked me to confirm my new booking. I sat there and provided my credit card information and left my office at about 6.30 pm–amazed that it took so long to do one last task.

Home for Dinner:

Back home at about 7. 30 pm on a really mild evening–perfect for lucky trick or treaters–I discovered that my credit card information could not be accepted online. I had to call Egencia to finalize the sale–Arrgghh! One call to the US later, it was all done. Big weight off my mind!

It was time for dinner–I was starving. I heated samosas and had them with soup with Black Forest Cake for dessert while watching New Tricks on TV. I was really lethargic, for some odd reason, lacking my normal fund of energy–in fact, I had fallen asleep on the train home! I finished my packing for Leeds, downloaded about 1,700 photographs from my camera so that I could start the month of November afresh with an empty digital card on my camera, put together the travel print outs I had made at work–there is no way I can juggle in my mind and in reality the many trips I have coming up unless I stay organized–and setting my alarm for 6. 15 am, I fell into bed exhausted.

I am not carrying my laptop to Leeds–so there will be no blog posts for the next three days. I will try to catch up when I get back as I am sure I will have a lot to record about my lecturing experience at the University there, about the city itself (that I am visiting for the very first time) and about Chatsworth, the extravagant mansion of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire that I shall be visiting on Thursday–I cannot wait!

Until then, cheerio…

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

Oct21

Thursday, October 20, 2016

London

Morning Mass at Ealing Abbey:

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

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

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

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

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

Back Home for Brekkie and Some More Work:

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

Meeting and Working at NYU-London:

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

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

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

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

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

Perusing Galleries at the British Museum:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if….

Arrival in Kyoto Garden in Holland Park:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back Home on the Tube:

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

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

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

British Library (Again), Martin Shaw in Hobson’s Choice, Completed East End Walk

Aug10

London

London was cloudy and chilly when the day began but it warmed up considerably by the time the afternoon rolled around. Hurrah for these great days and the joy of the summer sun on our faces!
I awoke at 6. 30 am today and did a bit of research online for the places I’d like to lose myself in as the days go by. Mainly I looked at taking a trip to Dorset today as I am keen to see Dorchester (base for touring the home in which the novelist Thomas Hardy was born called Hardy’s Cottage and then Max Gate–in the same area apparently where he lived as an adult). While there, it is my intention to visit the seaside town of Lyme Regis for its Jane Austen and John Fowles’ connections and then on to the Jurrasic Coast (for I’d like to see Durdle Door and West Bay, the town that was the setting for the TV series Broadchurch). Big plans! I can only hope they will come to fruition.
So before I knew it, I’d booked National Express coach tickets to get to Weymouth (the Dorset coastal town that will be my base) and back and next thing I knew I was booking a room for 2 nights in a B&B. These steps–getting transport then getting accommodation–is so reminding me of the last time I lived in London when such planning had become second nature to me.  Hopefully, all will go well…Fingers crossed!

Brekkie and Off:
I had to hurry through a shower (after spending time on my Dorset bookings) as I wanted to get out of the house by 9.15 am. My goal was to get to the Vaudeville Theater on the Strand to snag a Day Ticket to see Martin Shaw in Hobson’s Choice. Because, of course, today is Wednesday—and on Wednesdays, there are theater matinee shows to be had for the asking!
Consequently, I showered, ate a hurried brekkie of toast with Nutella and coffee and was off–at 9.25 to be exact. Shame on me–ten minutes behind schedule!!! It would never do. Still, I thought of how much I had managed to accomplish even before I left the house and it was not too shabby after all.

Snagging Tix to see Martin Shaw:
On the Tube I went to Embankment with a change to the Piccadilly Line at Leicester Square to get to the Strand. I am trying hard not to take the Northern Line as I find its complicated structure causes a lot of walking in the tunnels underground as one tries to change platforms. Hence, from Leicester Square I actually preferred to walk to Charing Cross and take a bus from there for one stop. Having the monthly Travelcard is a real boon as I think nothing of hopping in and out of buses, sometimes for just one stop!
I was delighted to arrive at the theater at 10.15 and find a Day Ticket for just 20 pounds waiting just for me. It was in the very first row and, for a moment, I wondered if it made any sense to buy it. But then I did–and believe you me, it was simply awesome. Again, I caught every line, every expression. Only in my dreams could I possibly get tickets this good in New York!

On the Tube to the British Library:
Since the matinee show began at 2. 30 pm, I would have about three hours of research at the British Library before giving myself enough time for the return trip to the Strand. And boy!!! Did I make use of every precious second.  Not only did I have a frightfully exciting time and a very fruitful one at that as I found every reference I was seeking (and then some!) but I was able to use my phone camera to take pictures of so many pages in the century-old magazines I was perusing. I cannot even begin to express how gratifying my research is proving to be.
Right on schedule I finished browsing through my material and feeling hugely pleased with myself and very confident now about being able to start writing my paper for presentation at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland next month, I collected my things for departure. In fact, with the the pictures I managed to collect, I feel very strongly that I should use Powerpoint to make my presentation even more exciting. So there you have it…days of work in the libraries have paid off and in a couple of days, I shall begin working on my paper.

In the Vaudeville Theater on the Strand:
The Vaudeville was packed to capacity and, dare I say it, the average age of the audience was 80 if they were a day! I felt fully at home among these reverent spectators who had clearly come, like moi, to see Martin Shaw with whose work I am familiar in Judge John Deed and currently as Detective Inspector George Gently. Both Llew and I are very fond of him–so I am sure Llew feels a bit jealous to read that I saw him in the flesh this afternoon.
The play was simply delightful. It is an old Victorian comedy that is celebrating its centenary year and every aspect of it was perfect–from the music to the acting, from the direction to the casting. In addition to the widely popular Shaw, there was also Christopher Timothy who had played vet James Herriott in All Creatures Great and Small–many moons ago. He has aged, of course, but he is still lovable and it was absolutely a thrill to see him too. All of the other actors, much younger though they were, did a splendid job to keep us chuckling repeatedly as the plot unfolded in the most charming of ways. Suffice it to say that I loved every second of it.

 Covent Garden on a Grand Afternoon:
It was only 5.00 pm when I emerged from the theater–too late to get to the Choral Prayer Service at St. Martin’s-in-The-Field Church that I would have liked to attend at 4. 30 pm and too early to get back home–not on an evening when the sun was still shining brightly and the city was vibrant with excited tourists.
It made sense to nip behind the Strand into Covent Garden–to watch the buskers at work in the main square, to sample teas at Whittard, to nibble chocolate and cookies in the other tea shops that have sprung up, to listen to an astounding classic vocalist sing Nessun Dorma and Andrew Lloyd-Weber compositions, to spritz on perfumes at L’Occitane and Penhaligon  and Miller Harris without feeling the pressures of time or the guilt of work left undone. This was why I had worked like a dog ever since January–so that I could enjoy London on my own terms and at my own leisure. I was going to take it easy because I felt entitled to. So there!

Completing a Walking Tour of the East End:
When I’d had my fill of Covent Garden and its pleasures, I jumped into the Tube and decided to get off two stops before my usual one–at Aldgate East. I still had about five stops to finish on the Walking Tour of the East End that I began yesterday. And so right outside the station, I found the wacky building that is the Whitechapel Art Gallery (which I have visited before) and which was closed by the time I arrived there. I found that is joins the old Passmore Edwards Library that once provided reading material for the residents of the area. Most of the community spots Passmore ran have closed down or been converted into centers for other uses.
I then made my way into Brick Lane, a street that all London guides proclaim as a Must See for modern-day tourists, much to the joy of the Bangladeshi tradesmen and restaurateurs who run brisk business there. For me, the area is a veritable treasure house of historic fact and odd detail and I reveled in the collection of churches that became synagogues that became mosques–for the area attracted immigrants through the ages from the Huguenots who arrived from France, to the Eastern European Jews to the Muslims from the Indian sub-continent who escaped the Pakistani Civil War of 1971 to find refuge in this neighborhood. I passed by the ancient dwellings (terraced houses) of the first residents of the area in Fournier Street and Princelet Street before arriving at a mosque that has a separate entrance for women and on to the old homes where Jewish litterateurs once held court. Bagels might still be bought at a bakery at the end of Brick Lane that sells them cheaply…but I was heading towards the end of the walk and did not get that far.
Back home on the bus, I passed the Whitechapel Bell Foundry, one of the oldest establishments in the country that has been in continuous business since the 15th century and which is responsible for casting Big Ben and the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia. Since I had actually paid a visit there, a few summers ago, I did not stop there.

Dinner and Blogging:
It was still only 8.00 by the time I reached home. I had eaten my cheese sandwich in the theater–but was hungry enough to have some soup, risotto and praline meringue roulade before I continued to do some research on how to get to Chartwell, the home of Winston Churchill, on Sunday.
And then I caught up with email, watched a bit of TV and decided to call it a day. Another magnificent day–and I can find absolutely nothing to whinge about! Yes!
Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Royal Excitement, Bloomsbury and a Barbecue

Jul24


                               
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
London
            I have finally been awaking at a decent hour—that is to say, about 7.45 am (as I did this morning). The upside is that I feel well rested; the down side is that I am not really getting much work done. Today, certainly, with the royal excitement over the birth of an heir, I did none. But even I can be permitted to take a day off to participate in the general international jubilation, right?
Participating in a Historic Happening at Bucks House:
            So when I switched on the telly and discovered that people had already begun congregating outside Bucks House, aka Buckingham Palace, to catch a personal glimpse of the official announcement of the birth of the Prince of Cambridge on the easel set in the front yard, I decided that, being in London at such a time, I needed to mark the event in some way myself. Juvenile? Of course. But, like I said, this is one of those times when you throw all sorts of post-colonial reservations about decorous behavior to the wind and adopt the mob mentality. I am an unashamed Anglophile and I am a tourist in London—I combined the worst of what those labels imply and set out, after brekkie (Walnut Bread with Peanut Butter and Wensleydale Cheese with Ginger with Tea) and off I went on the Tube to St. James’ Park to join the dizzy throngs.
            There was a very orderly queue when I got there—but within three minutes, something crazy happened. The police removed the barriers that were keeping the frenzied crowds at bay behind the Palace gates where a golden easel had been sent up with the birth announcement. And because I happened to be right at the barrier actually questioning a bobby to find out how long the wait in the line would be (to take a close-up picture of the easel), I was right in the front—standing right at the gates, really really close to the easel. It enabled me to take clear pictures of it both with my camera and my Iphone and to compose my shots so well that I was able to get the front façade of the Palace as well as the guards wearing their traditional bearskin hats and a bobby walking officiously up and down past the gates. It was a right royal crush trying to get out of there once I had finished taking my pictures, but it was so worthwhile. The crowds at the gate were at least eight deep by the time I managed to worm (literally) my way out.
            Not content with my pictures and wondering if there were people congregated around the statue of Queen Victoria for a reason, I asked a bobby for more information. He replied, “Sorry Madam, but your guess is as good as mine. We are never given any information”. I took a few more fun pictures at the statue of the crowds at the gates as well as of The Mall sporting colorful Union Jacks from every flagpole and I soon realized that they had massed there for the Ceremony of the Changing of the Guard. I had had my share of royal excitement for the day as well as personal participation in a historic moment. I had something worthwhile to tell my grand kids someday—so off I went.
A Walking Tour of Bloomsbury and Fitzrovia:
            I walked about 6 minutes to Green Park, took the Tube from there to Russel Square and began my walking tour of Bloomsbury and Fitzrovia (from DK Eyewitness Guides). These tours are simply amazing. Although I am pretty much stomping familiar ground, they are introducing me to elements of the city that I had not previously known and forcing me to take note of the littlest details that tickle the history and literary buff in me. For example, I soon realized that Russel Square is probably named after Bertrand Russel who lived in Bloomsbury and whose residence is marked with a blue plaque. Well, I could be mistaken, but I think not.
            Anyway…I arrived at Russel Square which is one of the largest London squares and is dominated by the red terracotta façade of the Russel Hotel which was designed and built by Charles Doll. It is a stunning confection of pillars, wrought-iron and collonaded balconies and friezes that represent cherubs prancing around. Inside, I was assured the magnificence continued—so, of course, in I went to the lobby with its lavish marble décor and trim, its chandeliered staircase—so wide it could easily accommodate a grand piano—and its lovely wall sconces. Needless to say, I used the loo there and continued on my exploration.
            Across the gardens of Russel Square I went, past the statue of Francis, Duke of Bedford, to whom this vast acreage once belonged (and after whom neighboring Bedford Square is named). He is depicted with a plow and sheep at his feet as he was a country fellow who reveled in such pursuits. I walked down Bedford Street and arrived at Bloomsbury Square that gave its name to the literary club of sorts that was formed in the early 20th century known as the Bloomsbury Group and numbering among its members such luminaries as Virginia Woolf and her sundry relatives—(siblings and in-laws) and philosophers such as Russel, biographers such as Lytton Strachey and artists such as Dora Carrington—although none of them lived around this square (most lived around neighboring Gordon Square). .     
            I sat on a garden bench for a while, then spied the flag and the sign of Le Cordon Bleu along one of the streets—in I went as I have been familiar with this name for decades (as a child I used to read my Mum’s issues of Woman and Home magazine that often mentioned the Cordon Bleu School of Cookery). I went inside and found it to be a cooking school indeed. Unfortunately, I will not be long enough in London to take one of their courses which go on for a few weeks (although I would dearly love to do so). Instead I contented myself buying some of the very reasonably priced goodies in their show cases and then walking out.
            The rain had begun—never thought I would be grateful for rain, but it immediately brought down the temperature in sizzling, humid London and made it much more bearable. I took shelter in a newsagents shop and ended up buying a copy of The Times in order to preserve its front page with the historic royal news. A few minutes later, I was at the entrance of the Church of St. George, Bloomsbury, which is one of the masterpieces of Nicholas Hawksmore who was a pupil of Christopher Wren. The church, alas, was closed, so I could not explore the inside—but I paused long enough to note the mausoleum-like tower and the gigantic sculpture of the lion and the unicorn at the very top. Visiting this church was on the top of my list and I was sorry I was unable to get inside.
            By this point, I was close to the British Museum—so I walked one road down and reached its impressive gates and railing. There were huge crowds in its forecourt but I could not linger as I had a meeting at New York University just next door with the Director there.
A Meeting at NYU:
            Since the leadership at NYU has changed since I taught there and since I am doing so much of my research and editing work on our campus where I am being ably assisted by the staff (especially Ruth), I thought it would be a good idea to meet the current Director Gary and thank him in person for enabling me to use the campus facilities. My meeting was at 12. 30 pm and on the dot, he came downstairs to the lobby to meet me and to graciously escort me into his office where he offered me a glass of sparkling cold water. I was very touched by his chivalry and his thoughtfulness.
            I had expected our meeting to me short—just a courtesy visit, really—so I was surprised and thrilled that it went on for over an hour because Gary was so interested in my research project about Britain’s Anglo-Indians and wanted to discuss it at length with me. I discovered that his background in British Law (he is a lawyer) made him familiar with the British Nationality Act of 1948 around which a great deal of my work in the UK is based. Our discussion was wonderfully productive—Gary is well-versed in Linguistics as well as we spent a great deal of time talking about the recent evolution of the English language through the influx of immigrants in the UK. We also talked about Global Migration (I teach a course on the subject at NYU) and the changing face of the UK since it joined the EU. Overall, I was simply delighted to have met a man who seemed genuinely interested in my areas of field research and contributed richly with his views and ideas.
Off to the British Museum:
     Of course, once our meeting was over, I simply had to spend a while at the British Museum re-visiting some of my favorite objects there. I headed straight to the Rosetta Stone, then to the Bust of Rameses II and on to the Lely Aphrodite which has only recently been loaned to the Museum’s collection through the Queen to whom it belongs.
       A few steps ahead, I entered the vast custom-built hall that was constructed to accommodate the Elgin Marbles—so-called because they came into the possession of Great Britain through Lord Elgin. They had once decorated the top of the Acropolis on the Parthenon mountain in Greece but after being struck down by an earthquake, they were found strewn around the base by Elgin. He arranged for their sale through the Turks who had then temporarily held Greece. There has been a long raging controversy between Greece and the UK—Greece wants the Marbles back, the UK has refused to part with them on grounds that the country does not possess the right space in which to keep them protected. Greece has responded by building the new Acropolis Museum in Athens especially designed to house the carvings. The UK continues to turn a blind eye and deaf eye to their pleas and has ignored Greece’s good faith attempts to preserve the Marbles for posterity. And so it goes on: the international impasse. 
          My own particular favorites are those of the pediment of which only a few fragments remain—but what amazing fragments they are! I swear that horse breathes out of those flared nostrils! Having actually been to Greece and stood on the Acropolis, I love imagining what these works might have looked like in situ.
          Downstairs, I visited the giant carving from Easter Island and then I made my way outside to the café of the Senate House Libraryof the University of London which was just across the road. I settled down with a mocha latte and a scone with butter (alas, they had no jam—and a scone without jam is like a day without sunshine, as far as I am concerned—in other words, pretty dull). Still, it filled me up and got me fuelled for the next lap of my rambles—a visit to two museums.
The Petrie Museum of Egyptology:
         I have heard a great deal about this museum for years—it is a part of the University of London (known as UCL), but somehow although I taught classes for a year in a building pretty close to it, I had never entered it. I spent more than an hour there focusing only on the Top Ten items that were pointed out to me by the friendly assistant. The museum is free and attempts are being made to give it more exposure and publicity and some guides asked me to participate in a survey after my visit—which I gladly did.
            The items that caught my eye were: The world’s oldest garment (a child’s blouse, made of linen, about 5,000 years old). Needless to say, it very fragile. I also saw two full-length tunics, also made of linen, not as old as the child’s blouse, but about 3,000 years old, all the same); a Nubian ebony wood carving (that happened to be the favorite item in the entire collection of Petrie who was an archeologist and Egyptologist and who brought back all the items in this collection from his various ‘digs’); a bead dress, designed for a pre-pubescent child that has acquired erotic innunendos; beads from a necklace made of semi-precious stones that might once have been worn by a pharaoh; a large bowl with an intact human skeleton in it (used for a ‘bowl burial’) and a few painted funerary masks. The great novelty aspect of these objects lies in their age and their manner of near-perfect preservation. To see all the thousands of items on display would take weeks—to see only the highlights is really the best way to make use of short stretches of time.
The Grant Museum of Zoology:
            I left the Petrie and looked for the Grant Museum of Zoology which is in the same general area and also belongs to UCL. Here too, in this wonderful place filled with natural history specimens most of which are preserved in formaldehyde in glass jars, I asked for a brochure giving Highlights. I was given a useful leaflet containing the Top Ten items and here is some of what I saw: a collection of preserved brains of a number of animals; a jar full of preserved moles (I had no idea moles were so small); glass creatures created in Czechoslovakia since real ones could not be preserved—they are truly exquisite and real works of art and craftsmanship; giant deer antlers, the entire skeleton of a real anaconda—the world’s largest snake that kills its victims by choking them to death. I found this place fascinating although science and zoology are not really my particular areas of interest. There were skeletons of every conceivable creature—the whole skeleton of a hippopotamus, for instance.
           
BT Tower Goes Festive:
        Outside, I got a great view of the British Telecom Tower. All day it has been beaming a message that went around the circumference of it saying “It’s a Boy”. There are also images of storms flying around it that bring a touch of whimsy to the royal birth. Because I was far from the Tower of London, I did not hear the Gun Salute but I have seen the fountains in front of the National Gallery at Trafalgar Square turn blue. It is a truly festive time to be in London and all the conversation on the Tube and in the buses has to do with this long-awaited baby. Long may he reign!
            I sat myself down then for half an hour in the front court of the main Neo-Classical Building of UCL with its imposing dome and its Greek columns and its vast plinth. I needed to rest my feet and while away some time before I moved on to my next appointment at St. Paul’s Cathedral.    
A Barbecue at St. Paul Cathedral:
            My friends Bishop Michael and his wife Cynthia had invited me to a barbecue for the staff of three major London churches: St. Paul’s, Westminster Abbey and Southwark Cathedral. I had attended this event about two years ago and had enjoyed it immensely. I arrived at their place at 6.00 pm and in a few minutes, we made our way to the grounds of the Cathedral. This time too I made some lovely friends and had some absorbing conversations. I met British lawyers, a Classics teacher, an HR specialist, the cross bearer at the services, a French chanteuse (singer) from Paris. The food was plentiful and delicious—the British have completely embraced the concept of the barbecue which, I know, about 30 years ago, was not on. Globalization and Global Warming have contributed to the popularity of the Cook-Out and now it is not unusual to be invited to such an event.
            I started off with a cold beer because the weather is still pretty muggy and then moved towards the lines snaking around the food tables: burgers, goat cheese and leek patties (delicious), Cumberland sausages served with brown sauce, remoulade, green salad with balsamic vinaigrette and grilled corn on the cob. Everything was made more tasty by the fact that we were eating it outdoors under the great dome of Christopher Wren. Dessert was ice-cream doled out in many flavors by ice-cream men who manned ice-cream carts. It was cute and very old-fashioned. Of course, everyone ate too much and as the evening wore on, it was time for me to say goodbye to my friends and take the Tube back home to St. John’s where I reached about 9. 30 pm.
            I spent the rest of the evening taking a shower, writing this blog and planning out my work and sightseeing program for the next few days. It was a lovely day and all the excitement of the birth of the heir kept me wide awake long into the night. It was about 3. 45 am when I finally was able to get to sleep.