Thursday, April 23, 2009
London

London awoke to another spectacular National Day–for April 23, St George’s Day, is the closest the British come to having a National Day–St. George, who killed the dragon, is the patron saint of England!

My day began with a hefty installment of Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix that I am finding rather absorbing. In-between grading more student papers (when they rain in on me, they pour!) and working on an itinerary for Chriselle’s stay with me in early May, I managed to make a call to my parents in Bombay and rushed in for a shower.

For I had an 11.30 am appointment with my friend Loreen at St. James’ Park Tube Station and it is always a production connecting at Bank station where not only is there a name change (Bank becomes Monument), but you are required to get out of the Underground, walk overground for a couple of blocks and go back underground again. This delayed me by 15 minutes but we made contact at 11. 45 and started our walk–yes, another one from my Frommer’s book 24 Great Walks in London. This one is entitled “A Brush with Royalty”.

Loreen could not have lucked out more with the weather for she has had an unbelievable week. I can only hope that Chrissie will have half as decent a week when she gets here. Our walk took us through Royal London–past Buckingham Palace and St. James Palace (which I had never seen before). It was at the Queen’s Chapel (attached to the Court of St. James–don’t you just love the sound of that phrase?) that we realized it was St. George’s Day. There was a Holy Communion service on in the private chapel that is designed by Inigo Jones. Both Loreen and I wanted to get in for a peek but the bobby who stood at the door told us that it had been locked from the inside. We asked if the Queen was in, by any chance. “Can’t be, can she?” he responded. “She’s in Scotland, she is”. A few more affable words were exchanged before we said bye to him and made our way into Marlborough House, Headquarters of the Commonwealth, and approached by a private courtyard one wall of which was covered with fragrant flowering lavender wisteria that just took our breath away. Both Loreen and I are avid gardeners in Connecticut and we exclaimed long and longingly at all the spring flower beds we saw at St. James’ Park where the tulips are currently crying out for attention with their marvelous colors.

Then we were at the chapel in which Princess Diana’s body lay in state–we only caught exterior glimpses of its stained glass windows before we found our way into St. James Square Gardens, a delightful place whose lawns were simply strewn with seated human beings munching on their lunch-time sandwiches. Soft pink petals had carpetted the flower beds from the cherry trees that encircle the focal point of the garden–a sculpture of King William III who died after falling from his horse who reared suddenly when he tripped over a molehill. This brought us to Waterloo Place and the tall column of the Duke of York who gazes benignly over Pall Mall (all festive with dozens of Union Jacks lining it–another sign that St. George was being remember) just across from the entrance to St. James’ Park where we ate our picnic lunch while seated on a bench. We had earlier in the day savored the pleasure of occupying one of the striped green lawn chairs in the same park.

Lunch consumed, we walked across the Horse Guards Parade, wandered through Admiralty Arch and arrived at Whitehall just opposite Inigo Jones’ famous Banqueting House which I suggested to Loreen she should seen. Always game to see something interesting, Loreen agreed. Inside, we watched a film together on the history of the building and its special association with the execution of Charles I while Loreen nipped upstairs to study Peter Paul Reubens’ ceiling painting, I sat and graded a few more papers.

When she reappeared, we looked at the sculpture of poor Charles I on horseback at the end of Whitehall and the beginning of Trafalgar Square, then walked down Northumberland Road to the Embankment Tube Station. We crossed the criss-crossing Hungerford Bridge on foot (a first time for me) to arrive at the South Bank where at the Royal Festival Hall, Loreen’s daughter, Alicia hooked up with us. A short rest later, we walked the length of the South Bank past the Tate Modern and the Globe with the intention of visiting Borough Market which is open on Thursdays. En route, we stopped at the OXO Building (another first time for me), took the elevator to its rooftop restaurant and got some stirring glimpses of the city on a remarkably clear day before we resumed our walk.

We soon arrived at Southwark passing by the Clink Prison, the replica of Sir Francis Drake’s Golden Hinde and Southwark Cathedral before we entered the market only to find it closing for the day. There were none of the crowds or the variety of foods to be found when business is in full swing. Still, they got a taste (literally!) of the place, for the vendors were still dishing out a few samplers.

Then, because we all craved a cup of tea, I led them to The George Inn, London’s only “galleried” inn where Pandemonium reigned. Indeed, we saw young men dressed as knights, sporting the red and white colors of the flag of St. George and downing pints faster than you could say “By George”. Celebrations had begun in earnest and the ale was flowing. We ordered ourselves three pots of tea and a platter of cheese and nibbled and sipped as we watched the antics of the crowd that got rowdier with every passing half hour!

It was not long before we decided to move towards “Wobbly” Bridge where I had planned to part company with them. It was then that we realized that April 23 is also supposedly the Brithday of the Bard, a day that heralded the opening of a new Season at the Globe Theater. A quartet of Elizabethan musicians guarding the gates stuck up their instruments as a couple of girls went around making balloon animals for the kids. Yes, Romeo and Juliet will see its first performance tonight–a play I hope to see soon.

We stood around and took in the fun for a while before I bid Loreen and Alicia goodbye–they were headed to a program of Mendelsohn at the Royal Festival Hall. Wobbly Bridge teemed with tourists as I arrived at St. Paul’s Cathedral from where I walked back home. It was time for me to finish up the last bits of grading and while I ate a few scotch eggs, I continued with that task.

Then, it was time to look at my email, write this blog and transcribe some of the interviews that I have taped over the past week.