Tag Archive | Jubilee Walk

The Jubilee Walk –Part 3

May4

Monday, May 4, 2009
London

When I awoke at 6.45 am today, the silence outside my window told me that it was a holiday. I had an early breakfast (went back to two slim slices of multigrain bread with Three Fruits Marmalade from Sainsbury and a cup of coffee–deciding to return to the carbs but go easy on them as I have reached my goal weight), then returned to my PC to start transcribing the interview I did with Dulcie Jacob. In-between I responded to email that keep trickling in as a response to the mass mailing I did yesterday to thank folks for their entries in my Golden Memories Album.

With the interview in the bag, I spoke to my parents in Bombay, then had a light lunch–a slice of pizza and an apple–and set off for Piccadilly and Knightsbridge to run a couple of errands. Holborn is such a commercial area that on a holiday there are so few residents here. Most of the businesses were shut and with some buses off the road, I entered the 242 to Holborn, then switched to a 38 that took me to Regent’s Street. I headed straight for the Visit Britain office to pick up the two London Passes I had booked for Chriselle and myself together with the 3-day Travelcards that will allow us to use the city’s transport system to get from one attraction to the next. With Chriselle’s departure around the corner, I am getting really excited about seeing her again.

I then hopped into an old Routemaster Number 9 bus from Piccadilly headed towards Knightsbridge and went straight to Harrod’s to buy some gifts for the French family with whom I will be staying in Paris next week. I know no better gifts to give people than something with the Harrod’s trade mark logo. It really seems to be very much appreciated and it so ‘London’ a gift. With that purchase safely in the bag, I got on the bus and returned home (but not before I tried out a few fragrances at the Jo Malone counter and gave myself a nice deep penetrating nectarine and honey mask with their Vitamin E and protein serum. I wiped it off after fifteen minutes with their rosemary and lavender toner. Lovely!

The Jubilee Walk–Part 3:
Back home, I deposited my buys, checked email and left my flat again–this time I was headed to Waterloo Bridge to continue with the Jubilee Walk–Part 3. It was an overcast day and the sun stayed stubbornly hidden behind a cloudy sky. The breeze was also pretty chilly and I wished I had worn a warmer jacket though my thick merino wool sweater served me well. London was left to visitors and Londoners today and it was clear to me how many numbers of people commute into the city to work. On a day when they are not required to be at their desks, the city appears empty. This was another rather interesting observation that I made.

My first stop was the National Theater Box office where I hoped to find some way to exchange some tickets I had purchased for another day. But since there was no way out, I will have to figure out some other way to resolve my dilemma. And with that, I began my walk at exactly
3. 45 pm.

The Jubilee Walk (Part 3) today all along the South Bank took me past some of the area’s most recognizable landmarks such as the National Theatre, of course, which I think is a terribly ugly building, the Tate Modern (another ugly building that is redeemed by the unusual lines of Wobbly Bridge (the Millennium Bridge), the Globe Theater which must be one of London’s most unusual structures, the OXO Building, the new City Hall (Sir Norman Foster’s handiwork that is very similar to the glass dome on top of the Reichstag in Berlin (same concept–a winding spiral staircase inside a glass dome), and Tower Bridge that is getting a new lick of paint (in preparation for the Olympics, perhaps?). The absence of the sun’s rays made it difficult to get good pictures but I did pose for a few and asked a variety of people to click for me.

One of the more interesting aspects of my walk today was the lifting of the Tower Bridge’s drawbridge that opened up to allow a sailing craft with a very tall mast to pass by under it. It was fun indeed to watch it rise and then lower itself so smoothly. Of course, all foot and vehicular traffic came to a standstill as everyone stopped to watch this fascinating and rather rare phenomenon. Needless to say, I clicked away hoping to see the drawbridge in various stages of operation.

Though for the most part, I have traversed these paths several times before, there were some aspects of this walk that were new to me. For example, I had never gone under London Bridge and I found it rather spooky and very reminiscent of the novels of Dickens. So it did not surprise me to find my notes pointing to the fact that Bill Sykes killed Nancy at this spot in Oliver Twist. The London Dungeon is not too far away and walking by it, I saw a brochure which indicated to me very clearly that this exhibit is not my cup of tea! I also passed through the Hay’s Galleria for the very first time–I had read about this place in one of my English Home magazines. Though it was less frenzied than it might be on a working day, it was fun to sit inside and rest my weary feet for a while.

A little later, I was crossing ornate Tower Bridge and finding myself on the other side where I followed the Jubilee Route that took me to St. Katherine’s Dock with its yacht wharf and its restaurants. Back in the vicinity of the Tower of London, I posed for a picture with an obliging Yeoman Guard (one of the Beefeaters) with Tower Bridge in the background and then stopped to take a close look at Traitor’s Gate and tried to imagine all the unfortunate souls who were led to their deaths through this entrance (Sir Thomas More and Anne Boleyn, for instance). How wretched they might have felt!

At this point, I passed a kiosk run by Paul’s Patisserie and since their hot chocolate is my favorite in the city and the wind was so biting, it felt good to nurse the paper cup in my frozen palms as I sipped the elixir slowly. At this point, my quest for a bus to get back home took me through a most convoluted route past the Guildhall that I was seeing for the first time until I found one that could get me to my doorstep.

By the time I reached home at 6 pm, I was starving but my email kept me busy as did a call from Llew. I was able to eat dinner (a cup of asparagus soup, Scotch egg, and my Pear Salad) only at 8 pm by which time I was dreaming of a refreshing shower and a good long and very deep sleep.

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

May3

Sunday, May 3, 2009
London

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May2

Saturday, May 2, 2009
London

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spring Has Sprung!

Mar15

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!

Wessex and Winchester Cathedral

Feb20

Friday, February 20, 2009
Winchester and Portsmouth

Holborn was stirring slowly when I took the bus along Gray’s Inn Road to King’s Cross and found my way to NIDO, our student dorms on Pennington Road. Despite being told several times that our departure was scheduled for 7. 45, six of my students thought it was 8. 15 am and did not show up. The coach left at 8 am sharp with six students missing. They took the train from Waterloo and arrived at Winchester where they joined us later in the day.

Moira Ferguson and Alice Coltenfeanu were in the coach with me as we swung out of London (past the suburbs of Chiswick and Putney) and drove through Hampshire. I realized that this was the route Stephanie takes to work each day as the signs for Andover/Salisbury began to show up on the motorway. We made one pit stop about ten minutes before we arrived in the charming but very tiny town of Winchester where we parked by the towering bronze sculpture of Alfred the Great, King of the ancient Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex. He was he who united the warring factions of the neighboring counties. Though the Romans had made Wessex their base long before Alfred’s reign (having been in Wessex between 40 and 400 AD), it is he who is credited with making the town that eventually became Winchester a seat of power by creating mints all over so that the people would have monetary security as well as encouraging commercial activity on what is now the High Street. As I walked along the High Street, noticing its older (mainly Tudor) structures, I realized how many millions of feet had trodden these streets over the centuries and I felt awed.

There has been a Mayor of Winchester for almost as long as there has been one in London and it
was at his ‘house’–called the Mayor’s Abbey–that our walking tour of the town began with a trained guide. It was the Romans who redirected the flow of the River Itchen towards the outskirts of the town and the result is a number of fast flowing canals that wind around pretty gardens that were just starting to bloom. I saw more clumps of snowdrops and loads of primroses. The sun was out and a more welcome sight I haven’t seen for days as it poured its golden rays upon the cathedral walls.

It wasn’t long before we were entering the precincts of the grand Cathedral for which the town is famous (remember the song “Winchester Cathedral” of the 1950s?). No matter how many cathedrals I visit in the UK, they always come upon me with a mixture of surprise and awe–surprise that in the so-called Dark Ages (what an insult to the achievements of that era!) such a level of architectural expertise existed that could allow the construction of crypts that went way down into the soil bed and upon which the weight of so many thousands of tons could be supported; and awe at the craftsmanship of the carvers who then went on to embellish these structures with their talent. No doubt, it was these structures, speaking so eloquently of the religious ardor of the time, that kept so many of them employed for a lifetime.

The guide explained so many aspects of the exterior of the Cathedral and pointed out the importance of the Bishops of Winchester in their role as ecclesiastical prelates. We passed by the Bishops Quarters, lovely Tudor structures with their exposed beams and stucco walls, then went beneath the walls of the town above which is one of the smallest churches in the UK and the only one left in the country that is actually built upon city walls–the Church of St. Swithun-at-Kingsgate. Just past it is the home where Jane Austen spent the last six weeks of her life with her sister Cassandra. She came to Winchester as her doctor was based in the town to seek treatment for her illness that could have been Hodgkinsons or Addisons Disease (no one is sure). Her brother was Archdeacon at Winchester Cathedral–a fact that granted permission for her to be buried in the nave, one of the last burials to be conducted in the precincts of the Cathedral. There is a brass memorial to the author on the wall nearby. In the Fisherman’s Chapel, where 17th century Issac Walton has been buried, there is beautiful stained glass window referred to as the Compleat Angler window. Later, we went down to the crypt that was actually flooded (as water still seeps into the crypt from the water bed below) and saw the sculpture by Anthony Gormley of a solitary man brooding–these sculptures, of course, are cast from his own body after he wraps himself in cling film! My students and I had seen a bunch of his sculptures at Crosby Beach in Liverpool, a few months ago, when we had made a trip to that lively city.

Unfortunately, we did not have a chance to see the famous Winchester Bible as the library that contains it was closed, but we did marvel at two things: the choir stalls carved of oak which are the oldest in the country and were just exquisite in their details and the main stained glass windows which seem like a modernist design but are a result of the piecing together of the original stained glass windows that were blown out during the Civil War. The long nave of the Cathedral is equally imposing and since all the chairs were removed, the interior did not seem as much like a church as it did a museum! The best part about doing these class visits at this time of year is that the crowds are nowhere to be seen and you very often have the place to yourself for quiet contemplation.

Then, when we had said goodbye to the guide, I took directions from her and climbed the steep incline along the High Street to arrive at what are the only surviving remains of Winchester Castle built during Norman times–the Winchester Great Hall. The exterior is lovely (exposed black stone set within creamy mortar) as is the main portal and when we entered it, it was even lovelier. The mood was sombre and quiet which befit, I believe, its most famous exhibit–the Round Table of King Arthur. This is set high on the wall and must be quite immense in size for it looks huge though placed so far above us. It resembles a giant dart board and looks as if it were made yesterday. Recent studies have proved that it is not the actual Round Table though this one is at least 700 years old. A portrait of King Arthur adorns one part of it while the names of all the other knights are imprinted in a lovely Gothic script all around the circumference. The rest of the Hall is notable for the names of the knights who served the church through the centuries and for a magnificent bronze sculpture of Queen Victoria seated under a gilded canopy that was placed there to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee.

It wasn’t long before I grabbed a few post cards as souvenirs and a sandwich, a cheese scone and a chocolate covered flapjack and with this lunch, I joined my students on a bench overlooking the statue of Alfred and awaited the return of our coach.

A half hour later, we were on our way to Portsmouth. See my next blog entry entitled “Pausing in Portsmouth’ for an account of our amazing visit there.

Winchester was truly a lovely town that encompasses a great deal for the history buff and the architecture enthusiast to mull over. The fact that the sun was out on a spring morning made our excursion memorable and I left the place, astonished as its tiny size, but struck by how many elements of interest can be contained within so small a space.

‘Tons of Money’ in Richmond, A Piano Recital at the National Gallery and ‘Oliver’ at the West End

Jan21

Wednesday, January 22, 2009
London

White I adore London for its long and colorful history, there is a downside to this aspect of its charm. Road works! Ever since I can remember taking possession of this flat at High Holborn, there have been ‘road works’ at some point or the other along its length from Chancery Lane Tube Station to High Holborn Tube station. This plays havoc with the smooth flow of traffic along one of London’s main arterial roads. This also means that you can never really time a journey by bus as it all depends on the vagaries of the road workers and their whims–they hold up buses while their construction vehicles are given priority and when one sits on the upper deck as I always do and have a view of all proceedings beneath me, it is often frustrating and infuriating. But then I have to remember that when you live in a city that has been a work-in-progress since the Medieval Age, you cannot complain.

I don’t know whether this is purely psychological, but after my visit to Paul, the specialist physiotherapist, at Euston Hospital (my name for the University of London’s Hospital at Euston), my legs feel much better. His exercises are more challenging and one of then requires me to lie down on a bed when performing it–which means that I cannot do it three times a day as I am invariably out and about in the afternoon–but they seem to be working already although he told me that I would not feel their effects for weeks. I have also resolved to be good and not walk for leisure anymore. If I take foot rest, the homeopathic treatment, perform the exercises and pray, I should hope to see a complete cure by May–when I hope to start walking the Jubilee Walkway in little spurts.

Awaking at 5 am, I spent an hour reading Bombay Tiger which has a completely different style from the rest of Kamala Markandaya’s novels–though the content bears similarity to The Coffer Dams. After doing my exercises, spending a while blogging, having breakfast and taking a shower, I headed out the door for a long bus ride to Richmond that involved changing three buses.

It was a most unusual winter’s days in London for it was bathed in golden sunlight under clear blue skies. I actually left the house today without an umbrella and just a small bag (though I did carry my camera) so as to avoid the load on my back. Changing buses wasn’t a problem at all and I was actually able to ride in one of the historic Number 9 buses from Piccadilly to the Royal Albert Hall. I now have the hang of changing buses at Hammersmith Broadway Bus Station (at which point you walk through a shopping mall which always makes me feel as if I am back in Connecticut!). I arrived in Richmond at 12. 15 pm, recognized the shops on The Quadrant just past the main railway station and hopped off.

I walked quickly to the Tesco Metro to buy what has become a favorite sandwich (The Cheddar Cheese and Onion) and though it costs a mere pound, it is truly delicious. I also found a pack of four chocolate eclairs for a pound and with this lunch in the bag, I started on a short self-guided walk in Richmond from my book 24 Great Walks in London with the promise to myself that I would take long and frequent breaks and stop as soon as my feet felt strained.

It was such a perfect days for walking. In fact it was a perfect day, period. This is the very first time that I saw Barnes Bridge on a sunlit day and while I recognized it immediately from the bus, I wish I could have gotten off and taken a few pictures of it as the ones I have taken before on rainy days make it look so dour and forbidding. Once in Richmond, I found myself walking along short Duke Street towards The Green which was once a sheep pasture but is used today for a variety of sporting activities including cricket. I could not believe that just a few yards ahead of me were the remains of Old Richmond Palace from which the Tudor King Henry VII had reigned, where his son Henry VIII had been born and where his grand-daughter Elizabeth I had died. Destroyed, but for a small portion of it, by Oliver Cromwell, the seal of Henry VII is still embedded in one of the Palace Gates that marks the entry into a lovely evocative old Tudor Yard that contains the Royal Wardrobe Building.

Enchanted by this hidden treasure and moved by the fact that the remaining shreds of this building have seen so much bloody history (before Henry moved his court to Hampton Court Palace which he seized from Cardinal Wolsey–I can understand now why the egotistical Henry would never tolerate the fact that his lowly prelate owned a dwelling that was so much more magnificent than his own!) I walked along a delightful street with old attached ‘cottages’ that took me to the Thames riverfront where twin bridges stood right in front of me. The promenade along the river was just delightful and many people were out walking despite the wind and the rather chilly temperatures. I read up on the history of the Old Deer Park (which has no deer in it), then ate a sandwich and an eclair on a bench overlooking the water.

A little later, I found myself walking under the beautiful Richmond Bridge which is made of Portland stone and climbing the steps into O’Higgins Square to start a short climb along Hill Rise towards what my book describes as the only protected view in the UK–protected by a 1906 Act of Parliament. Personalities from Turner to Reynolds to Walter Scott have described it as ‘the most unrivalled view in the country’ and William Byrd, the founder of Richmond, Virginia, is said to have named the new colony in the New World because the view of his territory across the Potomac reminded him of just this view of London across the Thames at this site. Be that as it may, one of the ‘owners’ of this unsullied view today is none other than rock idol, Mick Jagger, who owns a house in The Ashburton, a block of grand terraced housing that overlooks the bend in the Thames at this vantage point.

I decided to cut short my rambles at this point as my pedometer (that I am now wearing constantly) reminded me that I had already walked more than a mile. I took a bus back to the center of town and from there found my way to the famous Richmond Theater for my 2. 30 show–but not before I popped into the Cancer Research Charity shop and found myself a lovely English bone china cup and saucer to add to my collection at home. It caught my eye because it was so unusual–a matt black background suddenly opens up to a white glazed border on both cup and saucer that sports the Greek key design. It was these differences in texture that so fascinated me and at 3. 50 pounds, I could not go wrong.

The reason I was at Richmond Theater was to see Alan Ackybourne’s Tons of Money which stars Christopher Timothy whom I have grown to love so much in the TV series from the 70s and 80s called All Creatures Great and Small in which Timothy plays the role of Yorkshire vet James Herriott. I have to say that I was sorely disappointed, first of all, to discover that he had rather a small role (he played the Butler Spruze) and, second, that age has taken its toll on him so that he looks most unlike his younger self. He has filled out considerably, his hair has long abandoned him and his features too have changed. But for his voice (one can never change one’s voice), there is little resemblance to the actor of old who so stole my heart away.

One of the many surprises of this afternoon was the presence in the cast of Janet Henfrey (who plays Mrs. Bale in the BBC TV series As Time Goes By). This is the second time I have seen her on stage–she was present in The Importance of Being Ernest starring Penelope Keith that I saw at the Vaudeville Theater at the Strand last March with my friend Amy Tobin). The play was entertaining but not worth the long hike to Richmond unless one combines it with a walk as I did. At any rate, the theater was only half full, but I swear I was the youngest person in the audience! Everyone around me was silver haired and was no doubt there out of nostalgia for the good old days of the telly when Christopher Timothy made evening viewing special.

Then, I was on the bus again headed back to the city because, unwittingly, I had booked tickets for two plays on the same day (not having my calendar with me when I had booked a ticket for Tons of Money in December when I had gone to see Peter Pan, the Christmas pantomime at Richmond Theater). I knew that I would arrive in the city rather early–my next show (Oliver starring Rowan Atkinson in the role of Fagin) was not until 7. 30 pm at the Royal Theater on Drury Lane (this is the third show I am seeing there after French and Saunders Live and another one whose name I cannot now recall).

Having about an hour to kill, I hopped off at Trafalgar Square hoping that the National Gallery would have a late evening closing–and how right I was. A quick look at “Today’s Program” at the Sainsbury Entrance informed me that there was a free piano recital starting at 6 pm in Gallery 18. So off I went to take my place on a chair right in front of the baby grand piano that graced the gallery on a lovely Oriental carpet. The two performers of the evening were Kentaro Nagai and David Malusa, both from the Royal College of Music who kept me enthralled with an hour long program that included a fantastia and fugue by Bach, an unbelievable Ballad by Chopin, Iberian music from Spanish composes Mompou and Albeniz and a stunning work by Schumann. I could not have asked for a better way to spend an hour. This is what I most love about living in London. I come upon these cultural surprises in the most unexpected of ways and because I have so few commitments here, I can seize the opportunity to enjoy them as and when they present themselves.

Then, I was off on the bus again heading towards Aldwych where at Drury Lane, I hopped off to get to the Theater Royal. I keep forgetting how gorgeous the interior of these theaters are. This one is splendid–with fat putti adorning its walls in the lavish plasterwork along the ceiling and outside the boxes. The only horrid thing about this theater is that the balcony is about seven floors high–you feel as if you have scaled Mount Everest by the time you get to your seat–and being a ‘graded’ building, they cannot install elevators inside.

The auditorium was packed to capacity (as the play won some terrific reviews when it opened a couple of weeks ago). All around me were American college students, one of whom informed me that they were from Long Island’s Hofstra University studying British Drama for a month during their winter break. They were fidgety and noisy (as American students usually are), made inane comments during the interval (“That scene with Bumble was so sexual. She wasn’t supposed to hit on him like that” and “We were sitting at the worst possible angle for that scene”–it happened to be one in which Beadle’s wife bared her cleavage in a seduction scene!). I enjoyed these comments but the very proper English lady sitting besides me was besides herself with outrage at the behavior of the sprightly Americans and at the fact that she had to “get up and down and up and down” to accommodate their frequent passage to and from their seats!

Oliver was superb. I did not realize that some of the songs I have known since my childhood (Oom-Pah-Pah, I’d Do Anything) are from this musical. Apart from the stars (Rowan Atkinson whom I first got to know as Mr. Bean is unforgettable as Fagin and he can sing!–as is Jodi Prenger as Nancy), the little guy who played the Artful Dodger was amazing. Sets were truly stunning and the recreation of Victorian England so appealing visually that for a while I seemed to have transported myself to a different world altogether. It was truly one of the finest shows I have seen since arriving in London in September and I could understand why the critics have been raving about it.

Two plays in the same day, a musical concert, a sunny walk in Richmond…truly it was a day packed with pleasurable activity and by the time I was riding the bus back home, I felt culturally saturated. I could only talk to Llew for a few minutes before I called it a night.

A Black and White Weekend

Nov29

Saturday, November 29, 2008
London

It is shaping into a Black and White Weekend with a steady drizzle continuing to drench the city. I broke from routine today, waking up quite unexpectedly at 3. 30 am and thinking it was 6 am. I tried futilely to return to sleep but when it eluded me, I said, what the heck, I might as well get up and do some writing. When I did feel sleepy again, it was 7am and I succumbed to the temptation to slide back in to bed, waking only at 9 am. This threw my routine out of balance completely. But then that’s one of the joys of living on your own. I am mistress of my day and I choose to live exactly as the whim takes me.

Everything was subsequently delayed. I ate breakfast at about 10am, called my Dad and Mum in India to get another update on the situation in Bombay which, thankfully, is finally under control, though the death toll, at almost 200 people, is horrendous. The dullness of the day and the complete lack of sunshine did nothing to alleviate the gloom I felt all day. Rather despondently, I sat down to transcribe three of the interviews I carried out at Greenford the other day and went in for my shower only about noon. That, and a quick lunch later, I was finally ready to leave my flat for a bit of sight seeing.

I chose to return to the Tate Britain to finish seeing the rest of the permanent collection. This portion of it went rather quickly. But for a few Henry Moores and Barbara Hepworths and some Victor Pasmores, I was left quite untouched by British Modern Art. There was a special exhibit on Francis Bacon and I caught a glimpse of a few of his large canvasses as well as a video on his life and work. I don’t believe that I found anything I saw today compelling.

Deciding not to spend any more time in the Tate, I caught the bus back to Covent Garden as I found the Christmas lights there rather enticing and believed that there might be a Christmas market on. Well, when I got there, I found that I was rather mistaken. It is the regular market that is on, but the place is festive as several holiday lights do festoon the area. I heard a busker provide a good rendition of Nessun Dorma before I peeked at the Arts and Crafts in the Jubilee Market. Those too did not engage me in any way and deciding not to waste any more time, I walked towards Tesco to buy a few groceries.

After a very long time, I bought a pizza which I popped into my oven and ate on my couch while watching TV. I also bought a bottle of cider which I found wonderfully sweet and refreshing and when I spied Mrs. Beeton’s Rum and Raisin Ice-Cream, I could not resist picking up a tub for dessert.

Just when I finished eating my dinner, my doorbell rang and Tim Freeman, my next door neighbor, inquired about whether I had already eaten my supper. He had come in to invite me to join him and Barbara at a kedgeree dinner which I am sure I would have found scrumptious. I had to take a rain check, however, as I had finished my ice-cream too, by that stage, and felt quite stuffed indeed. I know it would have been a rare treat to taste kedgeree as the English make it as I have heard about this dish that combines rice and fish for years (but have never eaten it). It was an invention of the English in India during the British Raj and is based loosely on the Indian dish called Kichdee which contains rice and dal. Oh well, I hope there will be another time. On Thanksgiving evening, Tim had invited me over for Liver and Bacon, another traditional English dish of which I have heard so much (most recently in All Creatures Great and Small, the TV series, when Seigried feels miserable because he had plans to be away from home on the evening that his housekeeper intended to serve Liver and Bacon). Unfortunately, I could not accept that invitation either as I had plans for dinner that evening with Karen and Douglas.

I saw three really good programs on BBC TV before falling off to sleep. Steven Fry’s Tour Across America took him to California, Oregon, Alaska and Hawaii today and it was wonderful to relive the drama of watching the live volcanoes on the Big Island by which Llew and I had been bowled over a few summers ago. Chriselle called in the middle of my program and I spent a few pleasant moments speaking to her. This was followed by Boris Johnson talking about the clash of civilizations–Islam and Christianity. Yes, this is the same Boris Johnson that they call BoJo–today’s Mayor of London. I had no idea that he was an expert in Medieval History and I realize that I should read his biography and get to know a little bit about this flamboyant blondie! And then there was a feature called France on a Plate–an attempt to understand why, for the French, food is not just something that sustains them physically but a cultural, political and ideological aspect of their lives.

And on that salivating note, I called it a day as I was exhausted,
for some reason, and ready to drop.

My Ideal London Day

Nov18

Tuesday, November 18, 2008
London

Now that my feet are capable of carrying me once again wherever my heart desires, my thoughts turn to my idea of an ideal London Day.

I’d saunter down High Holborn, turn left at Kingsway, dodging the frenzied commuters at the Tube station . I’d make my way to Covent Garden and spend a goodly hour browsing in the antiques shops of the Jubilee Market. Pausing to examine a Bakelite bracelet in ivory from the 1930s, I’d strain my ears to listen, then decipher the Cockney twang on the tongues of the dealers hustling in old watches, chipped china mugs, rusted medals and vintage necklaces. Then, because I know better than to part easily with hard-earned pounds, I’d beat a hasty retreat and walk along the cobbled by lanes in which Victorian horses once pranced towards the imposing columns of the Neo-Classical National Gallery.

I’d spend the better part of the next two hours studying Old Masters’ works in their carved and gilded frames forcing myself to decide whether I prefer the Medieval landscapes to the waterscapes of Monet. I’d take a break on the benches by the stone lions of Trafalgar Square to eat my homemade sandwiches stuffed with such proper British ingredients as Stilton Cheese and watercress or better yet Scottish Smoked Salmon.

Then, I’d pull out my book 24 Great Walks in London and pick out a particularly hidden corner of the city in which to lose myself in a labyrinth of narrow streets, smoky pubs, Anglican churches and square gardens whose flower-beds incredibly bloom with giant David Austin roses though seemingly neglected by all. I’d take pictures spontaneously of flowers spilling out of wrought-iron window boxes and fat pigeons foraging for crumbs in deserted alleys. Reading every blue plaque I pass by, I’d thrill in the knowledge that Dickens once strolled these streets or that Virginia Woolf dallied with her literary pals in a fragrant tea room.

At sundown, I’d get to the West End to pick out a drama by an easily recognizable name–perhaps Shaw or Shakespeare or David Mamet. When the curtain rises, I’d gasp because I can recognize each of the actors from the PBS TV series I watch in the States and I’d play a little game with myself to see how quickly I can recall which shows they were in and which roles they played.

Then, I would emerge on a darkened London evening under starry skies and disappear again into a historic old pub to down a swift half of their best draft beer while watching drunken lawyers in loosened ties play at darts against the backdrop of varnished mahogany bars.

Too exhausted to do much else, I’d lollop around my living room while catching the BBC’s last newscast for the night.

Come to think of it, before my feet protested, this was often my kind of London day.

Reading, Blogging, Grading, Viewing, Listening…

Nov17

November 17, 2008
London

On a day that began with rather dismal weather, I awoke to the eerie quietness of a flat that seemed to sorely miss Llew’s presence. It was still only 6 am, but I decided to get back to routine, which meant spending an hour reading in bed. I have begun The Mature Mind: The Positive Power of the Aging Brain by Gene D. Cohen, a recent birthday present from my friends Shahnaz and Mukaram Bhagat of Bombay who handed it to me personally on their recent visit to London. It is rather technical going at the moment as the author explains the workings of the brain and those parts of it that sharpen with time when the ability to make connections far from slowing the brain allows it to come up with rather creative problem-solving techniques.

With Chapter One done, I turned to my Blog and relived the joys of our Greek Odyssey in the pages I filled for the many days we spent on the mainland and while cruising through the Cyclades. I will now turn to my website and create a few pages there while adding pictures that will bring our holiday to life. Documenting in detail the great time we had together, made me miss Llew very much and I do so wish we could have spent the year together in London. I know he would have loved it as much as I am doing; but on his first day back at work in New Jersey and his undertaking of a new assignment in a new department, I did wish him the best of luck and much success. Of course, he did call as soon as he arrived at work at the start of a new day and I heard all about his return flight and the odds and ends he has left behind in my flat.

Then, I sat to grade a few of my student’s essays. The sun made a brave attempt to break through the clouds while I was at it and I wondered whether I should venture outdoors. When I saw the weather forecast and realized how cold it was, however, I decided to stay put and continue with the grading. I went through half a pile before I returned to my own travel writing with the intention of finishing the lot tomorrow.

With the calls I made to my parents in Bombay and to Llew in the States and the online dialogue I had with Chriselle, it was 4pm before I quite knew it and with darkness having fallen outside, I decided to go out for some air. Walking through Chancery Lane and on to Fleet Street, I took a bus to the National Portrait Gallery. One month ago, I would have walked there and would have scoffed at the idea of taking the bus…but now that my feet are slowly healing, I am determined to lavish them with some TLC. Anyway, I love riding the buses and I do look forward to the day when I will hop, a la Bombay buses, on to the back of a Routemaster and sail down Fleet Street feeling for all the world as if I am in the Fort or Colaba area again!

I spent almost two hours at the National Portrait Gallery. No matter how often I visit, there is always something new to see. And this time, there were the infamous portraits of the Queen taken on her Golden Jubilee by Annie Lebowitz that caught my eye as I walked to the cloakroom to hand in my coat. I was struck by how aged the Queen looks. When did she grow so old? When did she put on so much weight? How did that elegant lady in her hats and pearls become so forbidding? There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of a smile on her face in those portraits and I realized that she was either very bored, very cross or very unhappy the day she posed for the celebrated photographer. Shot in stark black and white, the pictures only emphasize the Queen’s distance from her people and I did not care for them at all. Was it the regalia in which she had chosen to be attired that made her seem so disconnected with the viewer? Was it the setting–Buckingham Palace–with its splendour reflected in the background that disengaged her so totally from the camera? I have no clue. What I do know is that I found those portraits too solemn, too grim, too lacking in any kind of human warmth or compassion and whether this is the fault of the sitter or the photographer is hard to fathom.

I began on the second floor and went chronologically through the collection starting with the Tudors. Almost all of these people are now instantly recognizable to me through the many movies and TV shows I have watched that have documented this epoch. The rarer portraits of Dudley and Devereux, Queen Elizabeth I’s alleged lovers, were interesting for the amazing similarity they showed with the actors who have played them in recent TV series. A girl passing with her boyfriend through the gallery saw the portrait of Dudley and said, “This was her boyfriend. She had his head chopped off”. Whew! Imagine that! She pronounced those words so casually, almost triumphantly, and with so much relish–as if she had something to do with the Virgin Queen’s decrees!

I progressed then to the more literary portraits that showcase Shakespeare and his contemporaries and called to mind the excellent lectures on the History of Renaissance Literature that I had attended in the classes of the late Dr. Mehroo Jussawala at Elphinstone College, Bombay. Portraits of Beaumont and Fletcher, Sackville and Norton, Wyatt and Sidney took me back to those undergrad classes and I thought it lamentable that other stalwart writers of the period were absent–such as Spenser and Marlowe, either because they never had their portraits painted or because none exist to be acquired by the Gallery.

In the Civil War section, I put faces to the names of those monarchs whose history I recently reviewed at the Banqueting Hall–James and Charles I, James and Charles II and their wives. I learned, for instance, that Catherine of Braganza brought to Charles II as part of her dowry not just the islands of Bombay, but Tangier in Morocco as well. I saw why King Charles spaniels are so called. It was because Charles I loved them and popularized them in his court. He is seen in his portrait posing with one such puppy in his lap. I read interesting extracts from the diary of Samuel Pepys in which he records his experiences, including the crick in his neck that he received from having to pose endlessly for his portrait. I was only able to complete seven rooms, however, when I was politely requested to return tomorrow as the Gallery was closing. I have resolved to return on a Thursday or Friday night when the gallery remains open till 9 pm. I intend to go through each of the rooms at leisure but because the space is small, I can see myself accomplishing this goal within a week.

Then, I walked briskly down Monmouth Street, stopping at Starbucks to purchase a Black Forest Cupcake that is special to the Christmas season, and arriving at the School of Oriental and African Studies where, in the Brunei Gallery, Dr. Gary Day of De Montford University in Leicestershire, was scheduled to give a lecture at 6. 30 pm on “Class in the UK”. The audience consisted mainly of NYU students taking courses on British Politics and Government, but because I learn so much from these varied points of view, I try to make it a point to attend. Day’s views–he calls himself a Marxist Socialist–so riled up the capitalists in the American student audience that the Q&A that followed the lecture was indignant and aggressive. In proposing a classless society in Great Britain, created through the payment of equal wages to every single person irrespective of the kind of job he did (a somewhat Platonic concept if I remember The Republic correctly) , Day met with much opposition from my students who boldly refuted his perspectives. It made for a lively evening and one I much enjoyed.

On the way back, I stopped to pick up a few essentials at Tesco and Sainsburys, then ate my dinner while watching a few old Britcoms on GOLD, the channel that has resurrected the most beloved ones. In these days of reality TV, for those of us who are allergic to such programs, this channel is a savior and I am so glad that I discovered it.

My Kind of Day

Sep22

Monday, September 22, 2008
London

I had the kind of day that can only be described as perfect. Did a batch of laundry and cleaned my flat–still can’t believe how quickly I can finish that. Have finally mastered the brain behind the washer-cum-dryer concept and now my smalls are no longer getting fried and my clothes are emerging bone dry and do not need to get to an ironing board before they can be placed back in the closet.Yyeess!

Spent a few hours of the morning networking with my Anglo-Indian contacts and organizing the many names and addresses, telephone numbers and email addresses that are now pouring into my possession from all over the UK as people are helping me make connections. I will be spending at least one morning at my office this week sitting on the phone and making follow-up calls to set up interview appointments. I’m so glad that I had a breakthrough with Marina Stubbs in Brighton yesterday as that seems to have set the ball rolling.

Then, I made myself a sandwich lunch with everything that was in my fridge–multi-grain bread, hummus, olives, tomatoes, Stilton Cheese and Gorgonzola Cheese–and walked out into a very sunny afternoon. I headed straight for one of my favorite places in London, the National Gallery. Of course, I decided to take the scenic path there, past Covent Garden which had attracted only a few visitors until I arrived at the Jubilee Market which I discovered to be a covered antiques market. Of course, I could not resist spending a half hour browsing among the vintage jewelry and china bric-a-brac before I pressed on towards the Museum.

Part of my museum musing was also work as I need to identify the ten or fifteen paintings I will place on my own tour when I teach my Writing class at the Gallery on October 9. So heading straight for the research computers down in the basement, I spent the next half hour identifying the exact locations of a bunch of them based on the book I am using to study the works–The Guide to the National Gallery by Homan Potterton. It is my aim to go over every single one of the paintings in the Gallery in the next one year and I intended to study two or three rooms at a time. Well, I started at the Medieval and Renaissance Galleries and finished five of them, feasting my eyes upon the fabulous Piero della Francescas, the Giovanni Bellinis and the Andrea Mategnas in the Gallery’s collection while also studying some of the Albrect Durers.

Then, I sat on a bench and watched a few fat pigeons forage for food among the tourists as I munched my sandwich and took the shortest route I could to Green Park Tube station to embark upon one of the guided walks entitled “Spies and Spooks in Mayfair” from my book entitled 24 Great Walks in London. I discovered a place called Shepherd Market, the heart of the ‘village’ of Mayfair, Crewe House, one of Mayfair’s last existing mansions (today the Embassy of Saudi Arabia), two beautiful churches (Grosvenor Chapel where “coffee and cakes are served in the garden on the first Tuesday of each month”) and the Jesuit-run Church of the Immaculate Conception with its ornate Gothic interior and magnificent statuary, a wonderfully tucked-away park called the Mount Street Gardens where, during the Cold War, KGB spies are said to have congregated and left notes for each other on the park benches, the Claremont Club in Berkeley Square which sits cheek by jowl to the homes once occupied by writer Somerset Maugham, soldier and administrator Clive of India and Prime Minister Anthony Eden.

The terraced house occupied today by Maggs Bros Antiquarian Booksellers at Berkeley Square is reputed to be the most haunted house in London. There are many stories about the many apparitions that have been sighted here and the awful fate that has befallen those who did sight them. I also passed the Red Lion at 1 Waverton Mews, which, the book says, is singer Tom Jones’ favorite pub. At South Audley Raod, I passed by my very favorite shop in all of London–Thomas Goode and Co. that stocks the most fabulous china, porcelain and silverware that I have ever seen. The store is like a museum and every time I am in London, I love to spend an afternoon just feasting my eyes on the works of art represented by the painted porcelain on display for those with heavy wallets to purchase. I feel so indebted to this book for taking me into the secret niches of London that I would never have encountered on my own and, as always, these walks leave me with renewed appreciation and affection for this city.

Then, I hopped onto the Tube at Green Park and headed for the School of Oriental and African Studies where, in the Brunei Gallery, public intellectual, critic and journalist Clive Bloom who teaches Political Science and Culture at New York University was giving a public lecture on “The Idea of Britishness”. The auditorium was packed with NYU students taking the seminar on contemporary British culture and I was pleased to join them as part of the audience. Bloom’s lecture was jocular and serious in turn as he spelled out the uncertainties of identity that have plagued Britons in recent years as the influx of immigrants have increased and cultural polarities have grown. He did make jokes about the British penchant of pin-up girls in their tabloids, their obsession with Victoria ‘Posh Spice’ Beckham, their new vocabulary (chavs –a working class person with Burberry togs and bling, gingas–red-heads), and their idiosyncrasies–the English see the wearing of baseballs caps indoors as terribly disrespectful and consider curry their national dish. He was intensely proud of the fact that Chicken Tikka Masala was created in the British Isles and is unheard of in India.

So as I walked home briskly at 7. 15, I told myself that this was the kind of day I visualized when I was first told that I would be spending a year in London. It had all the ingredients that for me, at least, spell bliss–antiquing, studying Masterpieces in oil, discovering the hidden corners of a city on foot, and feeling intellectually stimulated at a public lecture given by an extraordinary speaker.