Sunday, March 15, 2009
London
Oh, to be in England
Now that spring is here!
Oh, to be in England
Drinking English beer!
When I was a little girl, back home in Bombay, India, this senseless ditty was often sung at parties. I had no idea then what spring felt like or what English beer tasted like–the Yanks always describe it satirically as “warm”–the beer that is, not the season! At any rate, spring was definitely in the air this morning when I left my flat at 8. 40 after a delicious breakfast of Poilane’s walnut toast and Stilton cheese and coffee and walked briskly to the Church of St. Bartholomew The Great at Smithfield for the 9 am Eucharist Service. There was no one on the streets at that early hour and when I sauntered around the church gardens and ran into the priest making his way to the church for the service, he greeted me cheerfully though he lamented the fact that despite the bright sunshine, it was “a little chilly”.
If I thought yesterday that the outside of St. Bartholomew’s was noteworthy, the inside was something else. I mean this church wears its hoary age with pride and dignity. It dates from 1123–yes, that is 1123–almost a thousand years ago in the age of the Normans, the English were worshipping at this church! It cannot get any older than this! You can tell this from the grey surface of the great uneven stones that form the walls and the columns and the memorials to eminent prelates. There is a wonderful memorial to the monk Rapere who founded the priory that became a flourishing monastery until the Dissolution of 1538 when large portions of it were wantonly destroyed. But, much of it remains, including one of the original cloisters. I had a look around the main monuments until the service began at 9 am.
The sermon was just wonderful. I love the way these Anglican priests make a point of preparing the most thought-provoking sermons. It seems to me that a very important part of their ministry is public speaking at their services and I have found that they do this far better than the Catholic priests, most of whom, in my humble opinion, usually preach sermons that are boring and long and rambling and pointless. Anyway, I was spellbound by the sermon and the intelligent way in which it was constructed, the depth of meaning it contained and the powers of articulation of the speaker. I received Communion and after taking another look around the church, I walked back home past the Smithfield Meat Market and Holborn Circus where a few people had started stirring… and then I was home.
I spent the next couple of hours preparing for my forthcoming lecture in Padua and transcribing one of the interviews I did with Claire Jansen, one of the respondents in my research survey on Anglo-Indians. I was only able to get through half of it, however, before I had to shower and prepare for my lunch time appointment with my next door neighbors Tim Freeman and Barbara Cookson. We had decided to go to the Italian restaurant Carluccio’s at 1 pm, but since it tends to get choked at that hour, we thought it best to take a walk on “Wobbly Bridge “(as they have re-christened the Millennium Bridge or the “Blade of Light Bridge” as Tim told me it was first called).
The day was simply glorious and people were out in droves. Indeed, a day such as this one makes every grey, rainy, dreary, drizzly day you have gone through in London all winter long seem so worthwhile! My heart felt light as a whisper as we crossed the Thames which was in full spate, thanks to the tide’s coming in. We paused and looked downriver at the buildings towards the Tower of London. It is always a joy to walk with Tim and Barbara in London as they adore their city as much as I do and are eager to share its lesser-known corners (though Barbara, who reads my blog regularly was telling me that it is getting difficult for them to find places to show me that I have not discovered already!). Tim’s whacky sense of humor and his huge knowledge of history always make our conversations sparkle and today was no exception.
It was simply a perfect afternoon and when we did get ourselves down to Carluccio’s, Barbara and I decided to share the Antipasto platter for two which included a number of really yummy Italian eats to graze on. Cold beer and wonderful focaccia made it a good meal and so filling that we decided not to have any mains at all. Instead of ordering dessert and coffee, I invited them over to my flat to have a go at the Black Forest Gateau that I had bought from Waitrose yesterday and my sultana scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam made it a great afternoon tea indeed! It was fantastic to catch up with them as we hadn’t met in ages–what with all the traveling I’ve been doing.
I barely had time to clear away and wash up before I had to get ready for my dinner appointment–and I was still so full!! I made my way on the Tube to Willesden Green (Jubilee Line which I caught at Bond Street) from where I walked six minutes to Teighnmouth Road to the lovely home of Phillipe and Marilyn Rixhon. Their neighborhood is just delightful–a number of stately homes, each completely different in design and style, caught my eye as I walked the four blocks to their front door. I met the Rixhons in early December when we were invited as guests of Robert and Caroline Cummings to a musical concert performed by the Music majors of Boston University in London. Marilyn and I had hit it off immediately and, next thing I know, they were inviting me to their place for dinner.
The evening was simply marvelous. Their lovely teenaged daughter was present as well and over wine and some nibbles, we started off a memorable evening. The Rixhons bought this house a couple of years ago and gutted it completely to build this incredibly beautiful home with its superbly landscaped garden. I was charmed to notice a pear tree and an apple tree in their back garden, both of which, apparently, give an abundance of fruit in late summer! How perfectly charming! While Phillipe busied himself selecting a bottle of wine from his very cool temperature-controlled cooler, Marilyn began fixing us our salads composed of watercress and mandarin oranges and candied almonds with a citrus vinaigrette. The main course was sea bass that was grilled lightly and flavored very simply with salt, pepper and lemon juice–it was incredibly succulent and melted in my mouth. With a side of baby zucchini stuffed with roasted tomatoes, it made a very colorful plate indeed. I crunched salt and pepper on my dinner from Alessi’s beautiful wooden salt and pepper shakers–their really striking design caught my eye on Marilyn’s beautifully laid table with its spring-time colors and motifs of wild flowers.
Conversation was stimulating as we talked about everything–Phillipe’s business in Music Promotion, the bane of TV reality shows (which none of us can stand), the impact of the Holocaust on Europe’s Jews (the Rixhons are Jewish diaspora living as expatriates in England), their former life in Dubai and its inevitable crumbling that they had long ago predicted, etc. I was glad Marilyn gave us a break before she brought out dessert–Chocolate Fondant Cakes served with fresh oranges, chopped pecans and figs. I have noticed that Europeans never attempt to make dessert themselves–they do the sensible thing and purchase it from patisseries where master pastry chefs do an incredible job turning out irresistible treats. Before I knew it, it was past 9 pm and by then the Rixhons had already extended another invitation to me to join them for dinner when Llew is in town as they say that they would love to meet him too.
I was so touched by their generosity and hospitality and even as I mentally noted all the things I had to do as soon as I got home (such as packing for my trip to Italy on Tuesday and checking and responding to email), I could not help thinking how fortunate I am that I have made so many fabulous friends here in London. Indeed I have been singularly lucky in that I seem to have made friends from many varying professions and backgrounds and in getting to know them I have become enlightened and educated about the English way of life.
Marilyn dropped me to the Tube station and I was home by 10 pm after which I had a long chat with Llew and found myself undertaking a couple more tasks that need to be get done in the next day or two–sigh!!!
Then, having drunk a glass of white wine too many, I was pleasantly sleepy and after hammering out this blog, decided to call it a day! Indeed, it was a day to remember–probably the first really great one of the spring season and I couldn’t help thinking of that mindless song that I recalled from my childhood and I understood, for the first time, what prompted the composer of that ditty to write: “Oh, to be in England/Now that Spring is here”.
To have an entire spring to enjoy in merrie ‘ole England is more than any Yank can ask for and I am anticipating every moment with the deepest excitement!