\nMonday, January 19, 2015
\nLondon<\/p>\n
\nJetlag still has control \nThen, my young friend \nSo while he showered and breakfasted, I jumped into the \nDisappointments Galore at Posh Stores:<\/em> \nFinally! On Carnaby Street:<\/em> \nA few minutes later, I was \nMore Disappointments in Store:<\/em> \nMore Retail Therapy on Elizabeth Street:<\/em> \nIn the able hands of Michael, I had my skin painted \nOff to King’s Cross:<\/em> \nLaser Lights Festival at Canary Wharf–Not!!!<\/em> \nThen, we were on the Tube \nOnly there really \nDinner Time at Carluccio’s:<\/em> \nI was exhausted and 10.00 pm when I \nRetail \n Until then, cheerio!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Monday, January 19, 2015 London Jetlag still has control over my life; but when it paid a 3. 15 am Wake-Up Call, it was decidedly better than the previous night’s–2. 15 am. I used time creatively once again to update my blog and scour the Web for suggestions on What To Do. My trusted guides… <\/p>\n
\nover my life; but when it paid a 3. 15 am Wake-Up Call, it was decidedly
\n better than the previous night’s–2. 15 am. I used time creatively once
\n again to update my blog and scour the Web for suggestions on What To
\nDo. My trusted guides for Secret London<\/em> and Key to London’s Secrets<\/em>
\n were insistent about a visit to the West side of Highgate Cemetery and
\nhaving Been There but Done Only The East Side, a few years ago, I was
\nhappy to comply. Accordingly, I went online, scored a ticket for the
\nguided tour beginning at 1. 45 today and given by Friends of Highgate
\nCemetery (as the West side, supposedly the far more interesting one) is
\nonly open to visitors on guided tours.<\/p>\n
\nJonas, all of seven years, made a 6.00 am appearance in my room, climbed
\n into my bed and promptly suggested we watch cartoons on the giant Apple
\n TV in my room. And thus it was that I became introduced to Scooby-Doo
\nand his friends! All fun cam to an end when his mother walked into our
\nroom and shook her head at him disapprovingly. I am afraid I might not
\nbe asked to stay again if I deprive her son of his beauty sleep.
\nUh-Oh!!!<\/p>\n
\nshower myself and at 8. a00, we were out the door, escorting him along
\nAbbey Road to the American School London where he is in second grade. As
\n he ran along, I took the bus to Finchley Road to the giant Waitrose
\nthere to buy my favorite year’s-worth of favorite groceries (did you
\nknow Waitrose Darjeeling teabags–not available in the USA where they
\nhave never heard of Darjeeling–and it is doubtful they have heard of
\ntea–are much cheaper than Twinnings’s Darjeeling and just as good?). I
\nbought myself an almond croissant and sipped a latte as I roamed through
\n the aisles (please Waitrose, if you can be in Dubai, why can’t you be
\nin New York?), then took the Tube at Finchely Road back home for two
\nstops.
\nWhen my groceries were safely deposited back home, I had my
\n second breakfast: Waitrose’s Fruit and Nut Muesli with Honey-Vanilla
\nYoghurt and the,n in half an hour, I was out the door myself and ready
\nto hit the sales.<\/p>\n
\nOnly
\n I had arrived in London too late this year, you see–all so-called
\npost-Christmas sales ended on Saturday evening, it appears. Arriving at
\nGreen Park station, I strode past the Ritz and into Fortnum’s<\/em>
\nhoping to find some of its famed goodies on sale–only to find Nothing.
\nAnd I mean Nada. As a 14 came sailing down Picaadilly, on I hopped
\nthinking Harrods has never let me down. But when I inquired inside,
\nMadam was icily informed that the sale ended two days ago! Darn and
\nBlast! Still, I bet there was some dregs still to be had. Somewhat
\ninspired, I asked for the Souvenir section–and as I rode the escalators
\n past all the heads of Nefertiti smiling down on me and spying the new
\nsculpture of Diana and Dodi and the soaring seagull in the basement,
\nprovocatively entitled “Innocent Victims” , I arrived at the third floor
\n where my eyes alighted on Christmas Pudding–not just any pudding, mind
\n you, but luxury ones sold in the signature Harrod’s ceramic pudding
\nbowls. Yes!!!! They were heavy as sin and would be a pain to haul across
\n the pond, but still. It had not been a worthless journey.<\/p>\n
\nBack
\n on the Tube , I headed for Soho and the arching signs of Carnaby Street
\n which I had never seen–because I had never been there! Off at Oxford
\nCircus on a particularly chilly day, I was grateful for my layers of
\ncashmere, when my eyes alighted on Liberty of London–another iconic
\nstore famed for its pretty cotton printed fabrics and its Tudor design.
\nWell, although I had intentions to buy nothing, how could I resist? It
\nwas worth the thrill alone of riding in those linen-fold wooden
\npannelled lifts alone. So off I sped to the top floor where the last
\nremnant items of their sale are still on display. Slim pickin’s,
\neverywhere, I thought, disappointedly.<\/p>\n
\nstriding out the chocolate shop and right on to Carnaby Street and there
\n they were–those arched signed soaring high above the street and saying
\n Welcome to Carnaby Street. I had a wander all the while becoming
\nincreasingly aware of the weight on my shoulders for en route,<\/em> I
\n had also found a Boots pharmacy from where I cleaned out a sale on Dove
\n Silken Glow Body Wash–perhaps the best buy ever in toiletries and the
\nonly hand soap you will ever find in our bathrooms back home. With its
\nsophisticated French perfume you might think you had paid a small
\nfortune each time you squirt a bit on your palm. You would be wrong. One
\n Mission Well Accomplished!<\/p>\n
\nThe
\n idea was to deposit my loaded sack back home on Abbey Road and find
\ntransport to Highgate for my 1. 45 pm tour. But although the spirit was
\nwilling, the flesh succumbed to jetlag; and still cold-clogged,
\nsleep-deprived me felt a bit light-headed as I left my flat to try to
\nfind my way there. Not being so familiar with North London and the
\nnetwork of Tubes and buses there, I made some terrible mistakes as I
\nfollowed maps (no GPS on my internet once I step out of the house,
\nremember?) and before I knew it, I was at Swiss Cottage trying to find a
\n cab to get me there on time. No such luck! Not a cab was in sight as I
\ntrudged along and bus drivers are nowhere as helpful as they once used
\nto be–they seemed never to have heard of Highgate Cemetery and
\ncertainly did not know how to point me in the next direction. I was
\ntired and sleepy and frustrated and knew I could not get there on time.
\nIt was time for Plan B.<\/p>\n
\nI
\n had stopped to fix myself a sandwich when home and it was on a Green
\nPark bench back in the city, watched by crafty pigeons and craftier
\nsquirrels, that I ate it and gave myself a bit of a rest. Then, I was on
\n the Tube again and headed to Sloan Square and Elizabeth Street to
\nindulge in a treat for which I had waited a very long time–15 months to
\n be precise: being introduced to Jo Loves<\/em>, the new avatar of my
\n favorite perfumier, Jo Malone. She opened her one and only store
\nexactly one month after I last left London the last time and the Number
\n One item on my agenda was a visit to her store for an introduction to
\nher new line.<\/p>\n
\nwith brushes laden with body creme. Strips of card were sprayed with her
\n new works of sensual art: Pomelo, Green Orange and Coriander, A Shot of
\n Sweet Peas, Pink Vetiver (my favorite), A Shot of Thai Lime over Mango.
\n Ceramic Tagines gave me the experience of stepping into a fragrant
\nsteaming bath–Jo calls it caviar for the bath tube. Being the expert
\nmarketer she is, she would. They went on and on. Inspired by her travels
\n (in Thailand, in New York and by the store next-door, a florist, where
\nshe had begun her working life in retail), Michael did a competent job
\nenticing me. I had thought, knowing “Jo” as if she were my best friend
\nor sister, I would absolutely adore them all. But nothing of the sort
\nhappened and but for two, I was left not too enthused. Perhaps it will
\ntake my nose and my psyche a while to make the transition. We shall see.
\n I was presented with sample strips although no real sample phials were
\ngiven, and off I went down Elizabeth Street which on a less freezing day
\n would, no doubt, offer more enticements.<\/p>\n
\nIt
\n was time to touch base with my friend Rosemary whom I know as Roz who
\nwas meeting me at King’s Cross for our evening together. The Victoria
\nLine took me directly to the spot she suggested: the Square in front of
\nthe station near the Henry Moore sculpture (added recently). I was
\nearly, I needed the loo, I decided to wander into the newly-refurbished
\n Renaissance Hotel to see the spectacular stairway that a fond
\nlong-time Londoner claimed was his favorite place in the entire city (I
\ncan’t remember who). Thank you dear Sir John Betjeman for saving this
\ngorgeous building from destruction. It has, despite all restrictions,
\nbeen artfully converted into a modern hotel. Today, its corridors gleam,
\n its Gothic windows offer views of a busy street that sees hordes
\nspilling out by the minute and bars galore, named suitably The Gilbert Scott<\/em> (the original Victorian architect) and The Betjeman Arms<\/em>
\n (after the 20th century poet who saved it) allow the passer-by to enjoy
\n a drink and a sit-down. I used the lovely loo, as intended, before
\nmaking my way to the square where, five minutes later, I had a lovely
\nreunion with Roz just off work.<\/p>\n
\nIt was time for a warming cup of tea in the station concourse and before long, we were catching up at Leon<\/em>
\n over steaming paper glasses–why has London succumbed to such trashy
\nNew York ways? Where are the civilized ceramic pots of tea that you
\ncould only find in the UK when you ordered tea please? So many changes
\nand some not quite appealing enough!<\/p>\n
\nheaded to Canary Wharf. Roz had been justifiably doubtful about the
\nLights Show that the Visit Britain tweet had recommended throughout the
\nmonth of January. But I was the foreigner and she was indulgent. Canary
\nWharf was not her favorite place, but there were lights and there was a
\n Carluccio’s<\/em>, so why not, she said???<\/p>\n
\nwasn’t very much to impress. Trees still sport their ice-blue strings of
\n lights but I suspect those have been left over since Christmas. That
\nsaid, if there were lights were wanted, there were thousands–from the
\nsoaring skyscrapers that formed a concrete well-illuminated city. In the
\n park nearby, whose ingeniously-designed gushing fountains sported a few
\n floating discs of light that changed color cutely by the minute, there
\nwere some lights. But the laser projections on the building walls and
\non the river that I had expected were nowhere in sight.<\/p>\n
\nIt was time for some serious eating to compensate for our disappointment and Carluccio’s<\/em>
\n never disappoints (why Mr. Carluccio, do you not leap over the Atlantic
\n and come to America?). We chose the Primi and Secondi specials for
\n10.99 pounds each–the kind of deal you can never dream of finding in
\nAmerica. And how well we chose too! We had two starters of caponata that
\n were served bruschetta-style over warmed goat’s cheese and toast points
\n to be laden with chicken pate and the most divine caramelized oinions.
\nOver glasses of red wine, we had ourselves a most decadent first course
\nand being the conscious, careful eaters we are (we talked mostly about
\nfood after we had discussed family and work doings!), we seriously
\nwondered whether we could do justice to our mains: polenta with
\nslow-cooked beef ragu poured all over it (delicioso!) and al dente
\nserved penne pasta with spicy Italian sausage. Predictably, we enjoyed
\nboth courses immensely but could only pick. Needless to say, we skipped
\non the dolci (my favorite course, always foregone, sadly) and then we
\nwere out of the maze that is the malls and the corporate offices and on
\nthe Jubilee Line headed home.<\/p>\n
\nput key through door (I had hopped off at Baker Street and switched to a
\n bus that dropped me right opposite my building instead of having to
\nwalk from the Tube station down Grove End Road), it was all I could do
\nto greet my hosts (little Jonas was already in bed) and crash.<\/p>\n
\n Therapy had provided little solace but meeting my friend and catching
\nup with her is always a pleasure and it somewhat made up for the cold,
\nthe lack of goodies to take back home and the fact of getting hopelessly
\n lost in trying to find Highgate. The only silver lining was that the
\nclerk at the cemetery had sympathized with my situation and, through a
\nphone call, offered me the tour tomorrow.<\/p>\n