Tag Archive | Oxford

More Research in the Bodleian Library and Wandering in Wallingford

Sep16

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Oxford and Wallingford

I am truly enjoying the sensation of waking up in this Oxford home. The silence is soothing to the soul and the only occasional sound I hear is the squarking of a passing duck from the nearby duck pond! How delightful is that? Not a car horn, no sirens, nothing. Little wonder I slept like a baby and awoke fully refreshed at 6.30 to do some blogging.

It has become routine here to wake up, blog a bit, get my breakfast organized and to eat it while watching BBC Breakfast—another huge thrill for me! In so many ways, here in my Oxford home, I feel as if I am home in Southport, Connecticut. This is exactly what I do at home. If Llew is not around, I eat my meals while watching TV and being without one in London left me feeling bereft—how did I think I could pass months on end without the sound of a another human voice in my home? I was crazy! Anyway, here I am, loving the presence of a TV screen that I can flick on without having to go through my laptop.

I had my muesli with coffee and then got my clothes together for a shower. It is still unusually warm for September here in the UK and with rain still staying out of sight, I feel as if the weather too is trying to remind me fully of being home in the US.

Spending the morning at the Bodleian Library:

Having my bus pass now and knowing where the bus stop is on Abingdon Road, I hopped into one just as soon as it arrived, a quick minute later. Having a Library Reader’s Card, I stepped into the Radcliffe Camera to start my research exactly at 9.00am and got a coveted window seat overlooking Brasenose College and the terrace of my own beloved Exeter College. Not many readers had arrived by that hour and for a while, I almost felt as if I had the library to myself. I sat in the round dome area (not underground as I did yesterday). Even the act of walking up the pathway to the door made me feel privileged as the Camera is out of bounds to the public and only card-posssessing readers may enter.

For the next five hours, I stayed glued to my desk in the library and managed to get through one really important book of source material. The other material I had called for had arrived but I will start with it tomorrow. It was only hunger pangs that drove me out of the library at 2.00 pm. I felt thoroughly satisfied with the progress I had made and leaving my seat, I set off for the next item on my agenda—a Visit to Wallingford.

Visiting Wallingford:

Susan and Tony had told me that Wallingford was a nice place to visit if I had the time and I took them at their word. Finding the X39 bus from outside Christ Church College, I hopped into it and was off and away. It was a long ride which I used to eat my sandwiches. I picked up a Belgian Chocolate and Honeycomb frappe from McDonalds’s and sipped that on the bus—for it was a very hot afternoon. Tourists were thicker than flies along Carfax and Oxford’s other popular arteries, so it felt good to get away from the crowds for a while.

I reached Wallingford almost an hour later—I did not realize it was that far away—but driving through the Oxfordshire countryside is such a joy as we pass through very neat villages, open fields now lying fallow and hedges thick with blackberries (now ripe for the picking) as well as apple trees simply laden with ruby red fruit. I am thinking so much of Keats’ “Ode to Autumn” as I take these autumnal country rides—“Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness/Close bosom friend of the maturing sun…” Ah Keats! The English countryside truly puts me in the mood for Keats.

 

Exploring the Village of Wallingford:

As is my custom, I stepped off the bus at Wallingford and looked for the Visitors’ Center. I found one immediately inside the Market Square’s stucco canopy tucked away almost in secret. The lady inside gave me a map for a Walking Tour which she said most visitors use to acquaint themselves with the town. It was a very good resource indeed and it allowed me to see most of the sights in about two hours—which is the time I had given myself for the visit.

Wallingford was put on the global map by the TV series Midsomer Murders, some episodes of which were shot here. The Corn Exchange Building, for instance, dating from the early 1800s which houses a modern-day cinema, was used as Causton Theater. In fact, Wallingford was used as the original Causton of the series on several occasions. It is charming, picturesque and countrified and makes the perfect setting for unexpected murder.

I walked into the Church of St. Mary Le More—a beautiful stone and flint affair that was largely rebuilt in the 1850s. Still, inside it is enchanting with its store of marble memorial wall plaques and timbered ceiling. I skirted around it and behind it to take in the small village shops and the thrift stores (from where I bought a set of soaps from Jane Austen’s home in Chawton) then walked towards the main road to see the Wallingford Museum. I had a quick browse through it and took in the Kineform, a large grassy area with holds the original Saxon town walls—you can see them vaguely—and then passed the Coach and Horses Inn. On the other side of the village, I got seduced by an multi-dealer antiques store and since I have always been a sucker for browsing in them—although I barely purchased anything anymore as my home is so full of clutter—I spent the next hour looking at everything from kitsch to vintage jewelry to really beautiful porcelain candlesticks.

About an hour later, it was almost 5.00 pm when I took a quick turn into Waitrose and then boarded my bus back to Oxford.

Evensong at Christ Church Cathedral:

At 5.50 pm, I awoke with a start when we arrived at Oxford for I had fallen asleep on the bus and enjoyed a most refreshing nap. Waking up instantly, I hurried into Tom Quad at Christ Church College to attend Evensong as I had a very special intention for which to give Thanksgiving.

Evensong was amazing. There were more than 150 people gathered in song and prayer and led by a superb adult choir (the little boy choristers have not yet appeared), I gave myself up to my ancient surroundings, the delicate stone carvings on the walls, the soaring heights of the nave and the pomp and pageantry that only the Anglican Church can present, thanks to their insistence on custom and tradition. I loved the service which was prayerful and soothing and a perfect end to my day. After the service, I met Martin, one of the pastors, who told me how happy he was to see me in church again. The next day, he said, the choristers would also be present, but I am not sure I will be free tomorrow evening at this time as I have a visitor to entertain.

Off to the Oxford Playhouse to see “Relatively Speaking”:

It was a good job I had fixed myself two sets of cheese and chutney sandwiches today because soon after Evensong which finished at exactly 7.00 pm, I strode off to the Oxford Playhouse. In the morning, I had stopped there to buy myself a ticket to see Alan Ackyborn’s Relatively Speaking—a rollicking comedy in his unmistakable vein. Where would British comedy be without its Ackyborns and Bennets and Cowards, I always wonder.

Anyway, for 15 quid, I was amazed at how good my seat was, how beautifully the interior of the Playhouse has been done up with its bright new velvet seats in jeweled colors, its spiffy new lobby with wine bar and its lovely stage. I made myself comfortable and then gave myself up to the laughter and the fun for it was a really hilarious show based on a series of misunderstandings between a younger couple and an older couple. I could not have spent a more relaxing evening and I enjoyed every second of the play. During the intermission, I ate my sandwiches so that I did not have to worry about dinner when I got home after 10.00 pm.

On the Bus and Home to Bed:

I caught a bus from St. Aldate’s that sailed down the Abindgon Road and two stops later, I hopped off. Although there was only a stray passer-by or a person on a bike at that time of night, a little after 10.00 pm, I did not feel the slightest bit of trepidation as I made my way down two side streets to my doorstep. It has to do with the general prosperity of the neighborhood. Where you have poverty and seediness, you have crime and in this wealthy part of Oxford, I did not have to worry about my personal safety at all as I had been doing in London. This too was a novel feeling after more than a month of worry.

I was home in five minutes and after brushing and flossing my teeth, I went straight to bed after what had been another perfect day of work and leisure.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Research in the Bodleian Library and a Bus Ride to Woodstock

Sep15

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

London

Awaking on my own in my new home in Oxford was another novel experience. I love the silence of this home—there are absolutely no street sounds, no crazy traffic, no music blaring from passing vehicles, to wake me up here. I adore the sights of a green meadow outside my bathroom window—what a joy to have a bathroom that actually has a window! In every respect, this home here in Oxford reminds me so much of my own home in Southport, Connecticut. This is what I am accustomed to: a home in the country surrounded by greenery, cozily furnished, lived-in. I am rejoicing in it and making the most of every second I spend here.

Getting a Reader’s Card for the Bodleian Library:

I brewed myself some coffee and got breakfast of muesli with honey yogurt organized. I also had a shower and got myself ready for the day. My first priority was getting to the new Weston Library to get my Reader’s Card and I was there a little after 9. 30 am. Producing two pieces of ID and my NYU ID card, I was easily able to obtain my card, after filling out a brief application form. The lovely young man who helped me out put me through the paces and told me where to go to obtain material based on my Bibliography.

I made my way up to what used to be the Indian Institute Library (now called the David Reading Room), where another lovely assistant showed me how to go to the first floor to use the computers to find the call numbers for the books I sought. My card would not work for at least an hour and my passage through the varied security gates depended on a small slip of paper that cleared me through. As a Reference Library, rules at the Weston Library are very similar to those at the British Library in London: pencils only, all material to be carried inside in clear plastic bags, phones turned on silent.  Armed with Call Numbers, I went back to the David Reading Room where an ever sweeter assistant called for the material I needed from Closed Stacks. Some of this material is stored in Swindon, a little way outside Oxford, and will arrive only tomorrow. I asked for it to be sent to the Radcliffe Camera as most of the material I need is there and because I rather fancy sitting in some of the world’s most extraordinary and oldest libraries to do my research.

Off to Begin Research:

And so off I went to the Radcliffe Camera, past Japanese tourists clicking pictures of the incredible Radcliffe Square, and inside I disappeared. I was directed three floors down into the basement where I found the two important books I was looking for—I took these to the quiet, air-conditioned space of the lower level basement reading area. The air-conditioning is such a relief as the UK is having its hottest September in 20 years. I am not complaining as the days are warm and sunny and perfect for exploration. In fact, it seems rather a shame to have to sit underground in a basement, albeit a cool one, instead of being outside enjoying the last of the summer wine.

Bu that was exactly what I did—and from 11.00 am when I began my research till 2.00 pm when I stopped because I was hungry, I knuckled down to some serious reading. It was such a delight to learn the process of finding call numbers for books and going down into the stacks to seek them out (in the good old days, you called for the books and never got to the stacks yourself—you waited for them to be sent up and then picked them up from the desk). I was amazed how quickly I made research progress, thanks to the quiet and studiousness of the atmosphere. Colleges have not reopened for classes yet—so, for the moment, independent scholars have the run of the libraries and are savoring every moment.

Re-visiting the Covered Market:

Leaving the Bodleian Library, I walked to Broad Street to the Tourist Information Center to pick up a host of brochures and flyers for places of local interest that I can explore in the late afternoon. I then sat on a bench overlooking Exeter College and Anthony’s Gormley’s sculpture on the rooftop just above the room I once occupied in the college and ate my cheese sandwiches. That done, I walked towards the Covered Market to use the loos and to explore a place from which, thirty years ago, I had bought very expensive cheese for a party at Exeter College. The cheese shop is still there together with a number of pricey butchers’ establishments, bakeries, pie shops, shoe shops and the like. I am happy to see that although some Asian dealers have set up shops, the traditional British salespeople are still dominating—not like Shepherd’s Bush Market in London which made me feel as if I was in a bazaar in Bombay!

Off on the Bus to Woodstock:

I found the bus stop on George Street that enabled me to board the S3 bus to Woodstock. It was a half hour journey to the little village that sits at the entrance to the Cotswolds and shares many of the typical characteristics of these areas: honey-toney stone buildings, charming cottages, wool churches, a village hall, a high street filled with tea rooms and taverns.

Woodstock has all these elements plus is the place you go to see Blenheim Palace, built by a former Duke of Marlborough and birthplace of Winston Churchill who descended through this illustrious aristoctatic family. Most recently, it has been the site of a number of shootings of Hollywood films including James Bond’s Skyfall! Having been to Blenheim twice before, I did not venture towards it, but focused on lesser-known Woodstock streets. I could not find the showroom of Lady Henrietta Spencer-Churchill, an interior designer of repute who lives in Blenheim Palace, which used to be on the High Street—it is possible that her business has moved.

However, I did find the Museum of Oxfordshire, which happens to be free to enter. I thoroughly enjoyed looking at the little exhibits that make up this place especially a showcase filled with local taxidermied animals and birds that represent the area. There was also a lovely film about rural Oxfordshire in 1944 and the manner in which life has changed in this region. In particular, it is amazing how the influx of ethnic people from around the way is changing the face not only of British cities but smaller towns and villages as well!

The Receptionist at the Museum who entered into conversation with me was delighted to discover that I was from Connecticut, only 10 minutes away from where his daughter lives—in Norwalk, having married an American. He knows and loves our area well and could barely let me take my leave—so much did he want to chat about America.

Back to Oxford:

It had been my intention to attend Evensong again at Christ Church Cathedral—this time with the full choir. But the bus disappointed us very badly, not showing up on time at all and making me very late for the 6.00 pm service. I, therefore, decided to skip it and took the bus home. Once I got to my doorstep, I left my heavy bag with its tourist material behind and taking some of it to browse through, I walked one minute away to the park and the duck pond where I did some leafing through. I enjoyed every second of the lovely late summer’s evening with the sunset still in the distance and dogs prancing around off leash—so delighted to be in the park themselves. Ducks quacked occasionally and added to the countrified experience that I am so relishing.

Home for Dinner:

Back home, I switched on the TV and got my dinner organized. I was thrilled to eat the last bits of Shepherd’s Pie and Susan’s Apple and Fennel Salad with Beetroot and feta cheese and to eat brownies and vanilla ice-cream for dinner—what a treat to have such a smashing dinner and not to have cooked it myself! Once again, I feel overwhelmed by the extent of the blessings that are being poured on me.

After a little bit more TV, I got ready for bed as I gave thanks for another very productive research day in Oxford.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Goodbye London, Hello Oxford: City-Hopping with a Song in my Heart

Sep14

Sunday, September 11, 2016

London-Oxford

Once again, I have to say that although overnight coach travel is not my favorite form of transport, at 7 pounds for the journey from Glasgow to London, I would do it again. Besides, I do sleep much more than I expect and end up feeling quite refreshed when I get off. We had one 30 minute rest stop somewhere in the middle of the night—we could use restrooms and get coffee and then we were off again, pulling into London Victoria Coach Station at 7.00 am. I wheeled my backpack to the Tube station at Victoria, boarded the District Line train and was at Stepney Green Tube station at 7. 30. I rushed in for a shower, unpacked and repacked for my two-week stay in Oxford, got myself some breakfast—leftover pizza reheated in the microwave!—attended to some urgent email I had received overnight and rushed out of the house by 9. 30 am. Yes, I pulled off a small miracle!

Mass at St. Paul’s Church, Kensington:

My goal was to get to the home of my friends, Michael and Cynthia, in Chelsea by 10. 15 to join them for 10.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s, Kensington. On the Tube to Sloane Square, I arrived there just as they were about to leave. I stashed my backpack with them and off we went through Chelsea on a restful Sunday morning to arrive at the church.

There happened to be a Baptism on that morning—a Brazilian child named Luca would have the privilege of being baptized by a Bishop, my friend Michael. Cynthia, his wife was much in demand as parishioners wanted to see her “halo”. She had just returned from Rome where she had the privilege of attending the canonization services for Mother Teresa! Many years ago, when she worked for Air-India, Cynthia (being a Christian) had been chosen to drive Mother Teresa on two separate occasions during her visits around London! It is not often that someone you have actually known in life becomes a saint! And Cynthia felt deeply honored to have had the chance to attend the canonization. Naturally, we had much to talk about after Mass as we walked back to their place. They had invited me to join them for lunch before I boarded my 3.00 pm coach to Oxford from Victoria and I had gladly accepted.

Mass was of the High quality! There was amazing singing from a brilliant choir, a humorous (if slightly too lengthy) sermon from the Dean of the Church, the presence of incense wafting around the rafters and the cries of a little baby boy as water was poured on his head. Indeed it was a beautiful Mass and, as in all Anglican churches in England (which is why I attend them) rather theatrical!

Lunch in a Chelsea Home:

Lunch was a very inform al affair as Cynthia put on a smorgasbord of things for us to graze on—from pizza to hummus, to salads fresh from her sister-in-law’s Susan’s Oxford allotment and fruit salad (with mango, pineapple and grapes) for dessert. It was the perfect light afternoon meal. Cynthia then saw me downstairs and to the bus stop so that I could take the C1 to Victoria Coach Station. The bus took a while to come and left us nerve-wracked and I was just about to hail a cab when it arrived. To my utter delight, it did not go through the King’s Road (which is always traffic-ridden) but sailed down a back street and along Elizabeth Street so that I got to Victoria in exactly five minutes with plenty of time to spare to board my coach to Oxford.

My super-cheap Megabus ticket (only 5 pounds to Oxford when bought online) was actually for the Oxford Tube (they must have a tie-up) and on the top deck, front and center, I never fail to recall the very first time (almost 30 years ago) when I had made a similar journey with my friend Firdaus as we embarked on a summer course and graduate study at Exeter College. Once we passed Brent Cross and the Westfield Shopping Mall that has sprouted there, we went by fields filled with sheep, cows and horses (thankfully some things do not change). I love these coach rides and always manage to nod off for a bit—20 minutes’ shut-eye can do wonders for one’s energy. Long live Power Naps!

Arrival in Oxford:

In what seemed like no time at all, we were in Oxford and sailing down “The High” (High Street). Since the friends whose home I will be occupying for the next two weeks live in Grandpont, they suggested I get off at Christ Church College at St. Aldate’s. This cut down my walk to their home. Susan, my friend, met me half way down the ten minute walk to her place. It was a fabulous reunion for she is a very warm and loving person and it is always a huge joy to see her and spend time with her.

Settling into Grandpont:

I have stayed with Susan and her partner Tony before so I knew, more or less, what to expect of their cozy home and its surroundings. I have to say that my spirits soared as soon as the coach turned down The High and when my feet touched the ground as I alighted, I felt a spring in my step and a song on my lips. I was absolutely delighted to be in Oxford again and thrilled to be in a domestic space where I knew my psyche would be more satisfied and safer. The sun was shining, the streets were still full of tourists (especially around Christ Church—one of the most visited of the colleges) and the air was filled with possibility. I wanted to make the most of every second in this hallowed environment.

Getting to Grips with my New Home:

On arrival at the home on Marlborough Road, I had a reunion with Tony, Susan’s partner, who was equally warm and welcoming. It was a lovely way to arrive in a new place—they were so kind and so hospitable. We sat down and had a cup of tea together with some of the walnut cake I had carried from my home as I had a few half-eaten groceries that I did not want to waste—I could make use of them here in Oxford so I had carried them along.

Sue and Tony then put me through the paces. They often do House Swaps (as they travel so much) and are accustomed to having strangers live in their home while they are away. They had my bed and room all ready for me and showed me the heating, lights, garbage disposal, kitchen appliances, shower and bathroom fitments, TV and remote (how thrilled I was to have one and how did I ever think I would survive months on end in London without a TV set?). They wanted me to know all aspects of housekeeping that I would need to use during my stay as they were leaving for Crete, the next day. The house would be mine alone for two weeks during which time they wanted to make sure I could fend well for myself. I was sure I would. Already being in a cozy, lived-in home made me feel so much better.

When we were done with the house, Susan took me for a little walk—right outside their home is Hinckley Park complete with huge duck pond, dog-walkers, a running and jogging path and two steps away is a swimming pool that I could use if I chose to—I had been told to bring along my swimsuit which I did. I seriously could not have had a better place in which to spend the next two weeks and my heart rejoiced. I felt so deeply blessed to have such generous friends who, time and time again, have opened their homes to be in different parts of London and treated me like an honored guest. I often have to pinch myself to believe that such riches are laid at my feet. Feeling deeply happy, we returned to Susan’s place and as I unpacked and made myself at home, she and Tony organized dinner.

For the next hour, we chatted about all the places I could go to and the things I could do in the next two weeks. Tony had made superb lasagna, Susan had a number of salads (all grown on the allotment which is such a passion for the two of them) with homemade brownies and vanilla ice-cream for dessert—what a lovely meal! Just as they were excited about their trip to Crete, I was excited about all the things I had to do: getting a Reader’s Card for the Bodleian Library will be my first priority, getting a bus pass to enable me to use the city bus service as well as to explore the surround Oxfordshire villages and the Cotswolds, getting maps of the area from the Tourist Information Center on “The Broad” (Broad Street), etc. I was determined to pass at least 50% of my time in Oxford in the library since I had the opportunity to do so. It would be so easy to simply stay in vacation mode (what with all the tourists milling around) but I knew there was research to be done.

I fell asleep, about 10.00 pm., while somehow still full of beans. However, I have to admit that the moment my head hit my pillow, I was out like a light.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Scaling the Dreaming Spires of Oxford & Dinner at Smithfield

Jan23

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Oxford

Today was all about spending an indulgent day in one of my most beloved places in the world with some of my favorite people in London.  I had arranged a tour of what Matthew Arnold had called “the dreaming spires of Oxford” for friends who had never been there. It had been all arranged–for weeks. Raquel and I were going to take the Oxford Tube (read coach) to the university city. Then, I invited my friend Bash and his girl friend Kim to join us. He volunteered to drive us there. My friend Susan who lives in Oxford was going to join us there and together, we intended to have a lovely day.

Only all sorts of things went wrong as Murphy’s Law decrees: Although Raquel and I were ready to roll by 8.00 am after Jonas was dropped off to school, we realized we still had 45 minutes to play with as it takes only about 40 minutes on the Tube to get to Northholt where Bash was  awaiting us with his car. When we got there, we found a terribly repentant Bash (no Kim) informing us that there were major alterations in our plans. Kim had sciatica and was home bound. He had domestic commitments that had cropped up overnight that made it impossible to spend the day with us. However, and get this, he had decided that, in true British tradition, he “wasn’t going to let us down”–and so the trooper was driving us to Oxford as planned, would have a quick coffee with us and would turn right back to return to London. Although we protested, he was having none of it–and off we went, with Bash behind the wheel on to the M40 for the 90 minute ride into the city.

Arrival at Oxford:

The journey was truly pleasant as we caught up on so much. Raquel and Bash–both being outgoing types–hit it off well and before I knew it, were discussed the job market, tried and tested job-hunting techniques on Linked-In, etc. and then we were pulling into Grandpont where my friend Susan lives. We parked Bash’s car in one of the side streets adjoining Marlborough Road to make our way into a very quiet, isolated Delicatessen Cafe on Whitehorse Road where we settled down with hot drinks–coffees, lattes, hot chocolates–and eats–quiches, rocky road, coffee cake–and chatted some more as we awaited Susan’s arrival. She turned up really soon and after one more raucous reunion and some more introductions and much chatting later, Bash bid us goodbye, returned to London and left us to our own devices.

A Walking Tour of Oxford:

It was time to begin our exploration of Oxford for it was already noon and light fades by 4. 30 pm. Being that we were just a few minutes from Foley Bridge, we started our tour at Christ Church College after taking in the lovely vista of the college across the Meadows and spying the balcony from the famous scene in Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited in which a drunken friend of Charles and Sebastian threatens to throw himself off to the ground!

Our tour cost 5. 50 pounds (normally 7) because the famous Dining Hall which had provided the model for the Dining Hall in Harry Potter’s Hogwart’s School was closed for renovation. Part of the ceiling had caved in, a few months ago, and the place was under refurbishment. Still, we could see the grand staircase which actually features in the film and where the students are introduced to Prof. Mcgonnagal for the very first time as she stands at the top of the staircase with its lovely fan vaulted ceiling and invites the students inside in the first Harry Potter movie.

We could also visit the Cathedral (the only place in the world where a cathedral sits in the midst of a college) and the vast quadrangles. And we had the added benefit of getting a short tour from one of the bowlder-hatted porters named Mark Hathaway (how many comments does he get about his association with the TV detective James Hathaway–now an Inspector himself–in the Inspector Lewis series set in Oxford, I wonder?). Through the brief walking tour, we discovered the basics: Christ Church College was originally meant to be named Cardinal College after the wealthy and corrupt prelate Cardinal Wolsey who founded it–hence, the symbols of the college are the Cardinal’s Hat with their streaming tassels. When Wolsey fell out of favor with King Henry VIII for not being able to procure his divorce from Katherine of Aragon, the ownership and running of the college fell into the hands of the King who renamed it and actually created a set of rooms for himself to live in it.

After the Reformation, Christ Church became significant once again during the Civil War when King Charles I moved his court from London to Royalist Oxford and occupied rooms designed originally for Henry. Needless to say, this did not eventually prevent him from being beheaded. We strolled through the lovely grounds of the college on another especially cold day cursing the weather and commenting on our poor frozen toes.

Once at the Main Quad (short for Quadrangle), the largest of any Oxford College and known as Tom Quad because it is dominated by Tom Tower that is named for the bell, Old Tom, that religiously tolls each hour, and after admiring the lovely Fountain of Mercury in the center and commenting on the unfinished cloisters –evident in the fact that the plinths still surround the quad–we made our way into the adjoining Cathedral. A Cathedral gets its ‘status’ from the Cathedra (Latin for Chair) that is meant for the use of a cardinal who is usually resident there. In this case, Cardinal Wolsey’s original association with Christ Church gave its chapel the distinction of becoming a Cathedral–and you can still see the Cathedra on the altar.

Although on several past occasions, I have visited the Cathedral (once to listen to candlelit Evensong), it made sense to visit it again with my friends and to use the handy pamphlet to discover its treasures, among which are: the gigantic keyhole in one of the wooden doors that inspired Lewis Carol (aka Charles Dodgson who was a professor of Mathematics at Christ Church) to include it in his story of Alice in Wonderland (narrated spontaneously to his little friend Alice Liddel, daughter of the Master of Christ Church whom he knew well and with whom he would sail in summer on the adjoining Cherwell). It was through this key hold that Alice fell in the story! Other aspects worth noticing were the stained glass window featuring Jonah and Nineveh, the windows designed by Edward Burne-Jones (one of the Pre-Raphaelites who studied at neighboring Exeter College), the St. Friteswide widow that features her entire story and includes, of all things, the first ever flushing loo invented by one Thomas Crapper in Oxford–now you know where all words associated with ‘crap’ come from!) Indeed, there is a loo by her death bed in the stained glass window and it makes for a real curiosity in one’s study of it (the window, I mean, not the loo).

We also saw the original 12th century carved stone altar of St. Friteswide who is the patron saint of Oxford and the new very solid altar carved in black balsa wood. At the main altar, we exclaimed at its beauty  before we exited the cathedral to browse in the gift store and pick up souvenirs of our visit. Raquel picked out a Diamond Jubilee porcelain plate with the year 2012 featured on it–she had moved to the UK in 2012. It was a very good buy that I converted into a gift for her.

Continuing our Walking Tour:

Exiting Christ Church College from the back, we arrived at Oriel Square (an opportunity to see the rather unusual facade of Oriel College) before making our way to The High (as High Street is known in Oxford) to cross into Radcliff Square to arrive at the Radcliff Camera–a rotunda topped by a dome designed by James Gibb (and not Wren as I had mistakenly assumed) and named for John Radcliff whose estate had endowed the creation of a library inside. The University prides itself on the fact that once you request a book, they can haul it up from the bowels of the earth, if need be, in under an hour. Mind you, the University receives, by royal decree, a copy of every book every published in the UK–that means literally millions of books. That they still find the room to accommodate them all simply boggles my mind. And, get this, today, a valiant attempt is being made to scan every single book in the collection and make it digitally available to the public! Soon, you will not need to be a registered student at Oxford to access its printed collection.

The Camera makes a real architectural statement in the Square which also features the Church of St. Mary The Virgin (you can climb to its spire for a fee for extraordinary views of the city) and All Souls College whose twin spires are unmistakeable. We skirted these magnificent buildings, took in the sights of railings lined with bicycles, saw students mill in and out of classes and residential rooms in colleges, all bundled against the freeze, and arrived at Catte Street to show Raquel the famous Bridge of Sighs that joins Hertford and New Colleges in imitation of the one across the canals of Venice. At this point, it was only right to make a detour and walk along the narrowed alley in the city to arrive at the home once occupied by Jane Morris who became the wife of artist William Morris (also one of the Pre-Raphaelites, also at Exeter) who was a humble embroiderer until these artists discovered her and used her as the model for their work). This led us to the well-known Turf Tavern that has been associated with many Oxford luminaries including, and significant for us Americans, Bill Clinton! Inspector Morse was also known to have downed many a pint in these lovely premises with their beer gardens and cozy interiors.

Back on ‘The Broad’ (Broad Street), we popped into the unusual Norrington Room attached to Blackwell’s Bookstore (another Oxford institution) which lies underground in four tiers right below Broad Street–it is the only bookstore in the world that is sunken so deeply. It makes for a wonderful peek into another treasure house of books. This vantage point permitted us to pass through the Clarendon Building to view Christopher Wren’s masterpiece, the rather-funnily shaped Sheldonian Theater where graduation ceremonies take place and where, throughout the year, there are musical concerts under its spectacular painted ceiling. We did not pay the entry fee to see it, but moved into the ornate quadrangle of the Bodleian Library with its lovely sculpture of Thomas Bodley who endowed the creation of this store house of knowledge. We stepped into the Divinity School but could not enter unless we paid–it would be interesting to calculate just how much a really thorough visit to Oxford would cost if one indulged in a close look at all its highlights.

It was time to return to The Broad to spy the sculpture by Anthony Gormley on the building at the corner of Turl Street and directly above the set of rooms I had once occupied in the Margary Quadrangle of Exeter College which we next entered. There I took my friends to the exceedingly beautiful chapel where the beautiful stained glass windows and the Byzantine mosaics combine to create a really lovely space filled with Pre-Raphaelite treasures–there is a majestic tapestry by Edward Burne-Jones featuring the Adoration of the Magi which I truly love.

Out in the Margary Quadrangle, I showed them my room which still brings back such lovely memories for me and then we were going past the Junior Common Room to get to Exeter Library and the Fellows Garden to climb upon the terrace that overlooks Radcliff Square and that provides some of the most beautiful views of the square. It was there that Raquel taught me how to use the Panoramic feature of my I-Phone to enable me to get these incredible 180 degree shots of the Gothic architecture that I so adore! She has changed my photographic life forever!

It was time to get some sustenance–and Susan led us to the Rooftop of the Covered Market–it is a place that has newly opened for drinks and snacks and offers views and heights similar to those of the spire of St. Mary’s Church. It takes a ‘local’ to help one make such discoveries and we were glad to have Susan as our guide! We made a quick round of the actual Covered Market itself, then climbed several floors up, stopped midway to order our hot drinks (it was too cold a day to sip anything else) and up we went to kiss those dreaming spires that were all around us as we turned and made 360 degree pirouettes. How marvelous it all was! Back downstairs, we sat for a long time and nursed our drinks and caught up on all sorts of news–it was good to chat at length with Susan in whose home I had once spent a few days while staying in Oxford.

Then, it was time to move on. It was almost 4 pm by then and light would soon fade. Susan needed to get on home to do some work and I swung Raquel into St. Giles, first to see the very spot at which the Bishops Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley were burned at the stake by Queen Mary Tudor and then to admire the medieval cross raised at The Martyrs Memorial. Across the street we went, to walk by the Randolf Hotel and the Ashmolean Museum, for which, alas, we had no time, and then we swung on to the Jericho area of city as I was keen to arrive at the Oxford Canal where I had never been before–but which is the site of so many murders in the Oxford mystery series that I watch. Off Combe Sttreet, we squeezed through the gates and arrived at the exact spot that I wanted to see. We took pictures of it and then retraced our steps to the Woodstock Road–but not before finding a framed needlepoint treasure in a thrift store!

Walking south on Woodstock Road, we arrived at the Eagle and Child Pub, popularized by The Inklings, the Exeter College pals that had comprised JRR Tolkien, C.S. Lewis and their friends. We entered the quaint pub, took in its unique ambiance with its little wooden cubby holes, black boards announcing food specials and then used the loo. There was time only to nip into Waterstones so that Raquel could buy some books and then off we went to the Gloucester Green bus stop to find the coach to take us back to London.And thus ended a most amazing day!

Back in London for Dinner at Snithfield Market:

The coach journey in the pitch darkness was not a lot of fun as there wasn’t much we could see outside. But we did catch up, Raquel and I, as we chatted about this and that and accessed our email through the free wifi. Hoping off at Baker Street, we hurried into the Tube to take the Metropolitan Line to Farringdon as I was taking Raquel and her husband Chris out for dinner. She had made reservations at Smith’s, a well-known steak house right opposite the grand Victorian lines of the famed Smithfield Meat Market–and it was there, on the third floor, overlooking the lovely new spires of The City , including the Shard, and Wren’s magnificent dome of St. Paul’s, that we ate a fabulous steak dinner with chips and a glass of Merlot. It was quite magnificently done–medium rare for all of us–and absolutely butter soft and succulent. For dessert, we picked at a Clementine Cheesecake–not the best of things in the world but different. How marvelous it was to have extended time with Chris who has been off to work each  morning leaving us little time for interaction and to find out about his work in finance and investments.

But by 10.00 pm, we made our way back to the Tube, past Denmark House in which I had once stayed on Cowcross Lane with its spacious, art-filled loft–a thought that seems like a dream to me today as I look back on my year in London.

We reached home just past 10. 30 pm and fell right into bed, really pleased at what had been a most satisfying day.

Until tomorrow, cheerio!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trekking in Woodstock and Witney, Oxfordshire

Aug3


Friday, August 2, 2013
Oxford
Tearing All Over Oxfordshire:
            Today was quite extraordinary indeed! For one thing, I have set an all-time walking record having covered 12 miles in a single day! And I never expected my day would shape the way it did but then that’s what being spontaneous and ‘in the moment’ is all about, isn’t it?
            So I awoke at 7.00 am, showered, dressed and breakfasted at Sue’s generous table with muesli and yoghurt and bread and marmalade and coffee and then blogged a bit. At 9. 40am, I began my walk from Grandpont to Oxford City Center to meet Tony at Blackwell’s at 10.00 am. Being a retired don (a professor of Oxford), he has privileges that allow him to take visitors into New College (where he taught Chemistry for 20 years) which reputedly has one of the prettiest Oxford campuses and was the site of many of the Harry Potter film locations.
A Tour of New College, Oxford, with Tony:
            Indeed, New College is marvelous and historic and although all the Oxford Colleges are, this one is special because it is constructed on the ancient walls of the City of Oxford which are preserved and inspected each year by Oxford’s Lord Mayor to ensure that they are in good repair! Indeed a scaffolding a ladder are installed with much pomp and circumstance to enable him to climb to the top to make his pronouncement! This custom derives from the purchase of land by the founder of the college Robert Pope, who was informed by the City of Oxford that he could have the land to found a college provided he maintained the walls “in perpetuity”. He agreed! Hence, this unique custom.
            Tony was a fantastic guide—indeed he is an insider who took me through the chapel with its fabulous carved stone figures on the reredos and its stained glass window designed by the 18thcentury’s Joshua Reynolds. We were unable to see the Dining Hall which is under renovation but we were able to access the gorgeous gardens with their perennial flower beds that feature in many a movie. We also saw the huge mound that was built after the moat was dug out for New College has an amazing sunken lawn. To access the mound, there is a steep flight of stairs and up those we went. Yes, we did see the famous quadrangle with its cloisters which is the scene of a famous episode in the Harry Potter film that has to do with the breaking of a wand. We walked through them and enjoyed the views from all the angles of the university’s many towers and turrets and spires. It was fabulous and I felt very privileged to enjoy this amazing tour and I was grateful to Tony for making the time to guide me and provide so many entertaining tidbits.
Off on a Walking Tour of Oxford:
            Tony said goodbye to me and I sauntered off to see the Tourist Information Center when I discovered that free two-hour tours of Oxford were being offered by young guides. I have taken these tours in Berlin and Amsterdam and I can say that they are fascinating. How could I forego the opportunity of taking one of them?
            So off we went and, of course, there were so many new things I discovered. For example:
1. The exact spot at which the three martyrs, Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley were burned at the stake for heresy by Bloody Mary was not where the Martyrs Memorial currently stands but on Broad Street near the entrance to Balliol College. It is marked by a few stones in a cross-like pattern.
2. The five floors that comprise the tallest building in the quadrangle of the Bodleian Library are in the following patterns: Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian and Composite.
3. The Bridge of Sighs was built in Oxford simply because there happened to be one in Cambridge and Oxford fancied it.           
4. All Souls College only admits people who are already specialists in their fields. They must hold graduate degrees and come there to do research.
5. Pubs in Oxford were divided among those frequented by Town Versus Gown. The King’s Arms is a Gown Pub.
6. Sir Christopher Wren, one of Britain’s greatest architects, invented the system of Insurance after the Great Fire of London, before he rebuilt the city.
7. It costs 9000 pounds for a year’s study at Oxford today.
And so it went. I enjoyed the tour immensely and when it ended, poked my head into Brasenose College where most of the early episodes of Morse were shot. Graduation celebrations were in progress, so I made myself scarce having taken a few pictures. Indeed, I was fortunate to see a typical Oxford scene with graduates in their black gowns and their mortar board caps which allowed me to take a few interesting pictures.
            I then popped into the Wheatsheaf Passage to find out who had taken over the premises that belonged to the hardware store called Gill & Co, which was had closed, four years ago, after 500 years—and I discovered, to my horror, that a Nail Salon called Oxford Nails had been installed there! Horrors!
A Bus Ride to Woodstock:
            It wasn’t the last bus to Woodstock (the name of the first Colin Dexter Inspector Morse novel which became an episode of the same name) but it was an afternoon one that was filled with young Asian students off to see Blenheim Palace (which is in Woodstock). Since I had seen the palace twice before and merely wanted to wander around Woodstock, Sue, my friend, had instructed me on the existence of a small nondescript gate. This allowed access on to the Blenheim Estate to the townspeople. It would allow me to walk on the grounds by the lake without needing to pay the hefty entry fee for the palace
            I bought a day pass (7.50 pounds) for the bus and took the S3 Stagecoach Bus to Woodstock (it was headed to Chipping Norton in the Cotswolds—which I felt strongly tempted to reach!). I was informed by a resident on the bus that it was not a village but a town—indeed, he said, it is the smallest Town in the United Kingdom by royal charter. He told me the townspeople feel very offended if you call Woodstock a village. Well, well, well. Live and learn, eh?
Wandering about the Blenheim Estate:
            I wandered around the town at will and enjoyed its lovely shops, Council Hall, Parish Church and cobbled lanes before I followed Sue’s instructions and found my way on to the Blenheim Estate together with joggers, walkers, babies in strollers, dog walkers, etc. I was already pretty beat by this time but pressed on in order to walk over John Vanbrugh’s famous Bridge over the river Glyme that flows through the estate. Soon the beautiful outline of the palace came into view as did a multitude of sheep. It is very bucolic indeed just as its landscape designer Capability Brown had intended it to be. I rested on a bench for a bit, did a few stretches and after five minutes, continued on my walk to the bridge. I got into conversation with a lovely lady who told me that she walked on the estate every single day—all the way to the entrance of the Palace. Finally the tall monument came into sight and a little later, I was on the Bridge taking a few pictures of the gorgeous building behind me—the work of the great John Vanbrugh who also designed Castle Howard in Yorkshire.
            I did not linger longer than a couple of hours (during most of which I walked)  as I had a long way to go. You see, in the morning, I had finally managed to make contact with Austin Fuller, the son of my Hall Stewart Stan Fuller who had mentioned to me that my old friend, now 81, was in a Care Home for the Aged in Witney. He was doing poorly and I felt that having the opportunity to meet him, I should try to do so.
On a Mission of Mercy to Witney:
            So, when I felt I had enough of Blenheim and because the sun was much too oppressively hot anyway, I made my way back to the town, found the bus stop and a bus that went directly from Woodstock to Witney and with the instructions and directions given me by Austin, off I went in search of Stan.
            I hopped on a bus going from Woodstock to Witney and, on making inquiries inside the bus, discovered that there was a young chap who was headed exactly to Madeley Park on which estate my friend Stan was resident in a home for the aged. I asked if I could follow him there and he readily agreed. The bus ride took about 25 minutes and just before we got to Witney Town Center, we hopped off.
            Then began another long walk of 25 minutes to get to the Home. It was hot and there wasn’t a bit of shade. I felt as if I was in the midst of nowhere and was grateful for the company of the sweet guy whose name was Leigh. We kept up a cheerful conversation until we reached the venue where my jumping over hoops seemed so worthwhile. All I have to remember is the look on Stan’s face when he saw me because he had no inkling that I would be arriving to see him. It was, therefore, a mission of mercy. I was pleased to see that my friend was mobile, not in pain, still his smiling self and although a bit forgetful, still very much in control of his faculties. He is not happy about being in the place and preferred to be at home, but he also told me that he had recently fallen from the bed at 2. 00 am and lay on the ground for 2 hours in the middle of the night before help arrived. He had to be hoisted from the ground in a mechanical hoist. Ever after that he has slept in an armchair out of fear. Old age is no fun, for sure.
            I stayed with Stan for almost an hour, then started the long trek back to the Town Center for the bus. I got lost and that added to my walk but at least I had a chance to see some of the factories that produced the famous Witney woolen blankets of which Stan was so proud. At that point (about 5. 30 pm), I realized that I hadn’t stopped for lunch and that I was starving. Needing something mobile, I found a vast shopping mall which contained a Marks and Spencer place from where I bought two sets of sandwiches. I wolfed them down in the bus that came trundling by in about 10 minutes and just before 7.00 pm, I was back in Oxford again after what had been a truly tiring day.
Back on the Coach to London:
I bid goodbye to my friends Sue and Tony in whose home I had been so comfortable. Although they urged me to eat dinner before leaving, I did not want to reach London too late—so I left at 7. 20, rode the Stagecoach bus to the Gloucester Green bus station in Oxford, hopped on to the 8.00 pm X-90 coach to London and arrived in Victoria at. 9. 45pm. I did not get a 44 bus to Battersea until 10. 10 but by 10. 30 pm, I was with my friend Roz who had cheese and leek quiche and salad ready for me with a lovely cold lemonade Perrier.
            Whew! I was knackered, let me tell you, and ready to collapse. But at the end of the day, it was worth the time and trouble I took to see an old friend who was extremely kind to me so many years ago. 
            Until tomorrow, cheerio!   

Being an Oxonian All Over Again!

Aug2


Thursday, August 1, 2013
Oxford
The heat in Oxford today was expected to reach record levels. Tony, who is a passionate walker (yes, there really is such a thing in the UK) and who recently walked Coast to Coast—all 200 miles across the UK—suggested a walk up Boar’s Hill before the sun became oppressive. 
            We had breakfast—Sue’s homemade multi-grain bread with elderflower jam (from Fortnum’s—my gift to them), muesli with yoghurt and milk and coffee—and then I was off with Tony. 
              Their home in South Oxford, at Grandpont, has a marvelous location. It is two ticks away from their allotments—plots of land that UK Councils rent out to garden-less folks so that they may grow their own veg–and close to a large park with a swimming pool and tennis courts—unbelieveable! We started off by surveying their allotment—they grow raspberries, cabbage, Brussels sprouts, parsley, corn—you name it. It was fantastic. Sue had recently organized a scarecrow contest and there were several including her female one dressed in a skirt! After she picked a few raspberries, I left with Tony for our walk.
Walking Up Boar’s Hill:
            Almost 30 years ago, the Hall Stewart at Exeter College here in Oxford, who became a good friend of mine, Stan Fuller, had driven us (my friend Firdaus and myself) in his car up Boar’s Hill to show us an old stone church containing a memorial plaque to his grandfather who had been killed during the war in Peshawar (in the North West Frontier Province of British India, now in Northern Pakistan). We never did enter the church as it was closed—but we did have a great view of Oxford’s “dreaming spires” from the vantage point from which Matthew Arnold had perceived them when he supposedly wrote “The Scholar Gypsy”. There is a field there called Matthew Arnold’s Field and I had taken a picture perched on it with hair as long as my knees and a pair of jeans and a wide smile. Well, I was keen to take a picture, 30 years later, at the same spot, so it was great fun to climb up the hill with Tony and try to find my younger self at that spot.
            The walk was fabulous—past the lake and over the railways tracks winding on to London, over a stile and across a field in which horses grazed, over a bridge and across another field until we got to a highway (the A 34 going both to “The North” and “The South”) and on to yet another field where we spied a man taking a census of the butterflies in the area—only in England, kids, only in England!  And about 45 minutes later after the sun had climbed rather high and was pouring its heat upon the earth, we arrived at a spot from where you could get reasonably good views of Oxford’s dreaming spires—or, as Tony cynically put it, its dreaming cranes. For Oxford is undergoing a resurgence and there is a great deal of construction activity going on—cranes can be spotted from a long distance.
            We entered the Chilswell Valley (colloquially named The Happy Valley) and sat down for a while to rest on a bench overlooking the downs. It was delightful and it brought to my mind the novel The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce which was shortlisted for the Booker Prize a couple of years ago.  To reach Matthew Arnold’s field would take a walk of another half hour and we had already walked miles by then and needed to get back. Tony suggested he drive me there later in the evening and we started the trek back to Grandpont which took us another hour.
            By 11. 30 am, hot and tired, I sipped on elderflower water and felt deeply revived. Sue suggested I rest for a bit until lunch when she would walk with me into town so that I could visit the Ashmolean. And that seemed like a sensible plan. An hour later, we were sitting down to Tony’s delicious caponata, a tuna salad with celery and apples, olives and ham and potato salad. It was a very nice summer’s lunch indeed and an hour later, Sue and I headed for the Ashmolean.
Revisiting the Ashmolean Museum:
            The Ashmolean Museum is one of the great museums of the world and, being in Oxford, very much a teaching museum. I had last been there four years ago when it was being refurbished—its treasures were then grouped into two galleries so that seeing its highlights was a piece of cake.  
            This time round, I had a chance to peruse the new galleries—all glass and chrome—as well its older sections (which are really after my own heart). Yes, we did see the highlights: the Alfred Jewel is its biggest treasure: the head of a pointer used to read medieval manuscripts, it is made of gold and enamel and has a beast’s head’s worked into it. Incredible craftsmanship for that epoch. What is interesting is that it was found by a worker digging for peat! I also saw the cloak decorated with wampum (small shells used as currency) that belonged to Pocahontas, the wooden doors (carved in India) that belonged to T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia) and the two famous paintings for which the collection is know: The Hunt by Paolo Uccelo and The Forest Fire by Pietro de Cosimo (both of which I have seen several times before). What I saw for the first time is the Lantern belonging to Guy Fawkes—he is supposed to have held it in his hand when he was exposed and arrested for the Gunpowder Plot to blow up Parliament in the late 1600s. I was also fascinated by the Marshall Collection of Porcelain that was bequeathed to the museum and is intact and arranged (according to the terms of the bequest) in exactly the same way as they were when Marshall owned them. The entire Italian Renaissance collection is wonderful and I spent a great deal of time there but then Sue had to leave and I wanted to see the new shop and the new extension (the South Asian section is enormous).  
 
A Walking Tour of my Favorite Parts of Oxford:
            Then began my tour of the places I most closely associate with my graduate student life at Oxford. I exited the Ashmolean and because I am a dedicated fan of the Inspector Morse series, crossed the street and entered the Randolf Hotel (location of many of the episodes). So famous did the Randolf become internationally, that it now has a Morse Bar named for the super sleuth, which, of course, I entered and dallied in. The Randolf was where our friends Peter and Susan Geib had treated my friend Firdaus and me to Afternoon Tea, many many moons ago (while the Inspector Morse series was actually in its infancy in the UK and the first episodes were being shot there) and seeing people having Afternoon Tea through the street-side windows brought back many happy memories for me.
            I crossed St. Giles and The Broad and entered the Covered Market (also scene of Morse episodes and the more recent series called Lewis) and poked around a bit in a vintage shop before exiting and getting to Exeter College. It was open to visitors and I entered its quad where I always feel a sense of homecoming. Pots of geraniums decorated the steps leading to the Dining Hall (which was shut) but the chapel was open, so in I went to feast my eyes on the mosaics, the wonderfully, newly-refurbished interior features including the tapestry of The Adoration of the Magi by Edward Burne-Jones (an alumni) and the choir loft (location of the memorable last scene in “The Daughters of Cain” in the Morseseries). I have recently become aware that Exeter College chapel was modeled after Sainte Chapelle in Paris, France—which explains the small pieces of stained glass on the windows (royaume) and the spindly spire reaching into the sky.
            I walked out to the Margary Quadrangle which, believe it or not, was under renovation! In 1987 when I was at Oxford, it was under renovation too!! I spied my room behind the cranes and other construction paraphenelia but did not venture to them. Instead I walked underground to the Saskatchewan Room where I had lectured during the International Graduate Summer School on the invitation of the university’s organizers. That too, brought back happy memories for me.
            I did not linger long in Exeter because, as I had realized earlier, part of the romance of that era in my life, derived from the wonderful company of the friends I had made then (and who have remained friends of mine—Firdaus, Annalisa, Josephine). Exeter always makes me miss them and want to be with them, so I left pretty soon and made a left at Brasenose Lane to arrive at Radcliffe Square where, lo and behold, I found the Radcliff Camera under renovation! I walked around to the quadrangle of the Bodleian Library past loads of American tour groups and saw the famous pendant ceiling of the Divinity School which I love behind the sculpture of Sir Thomas Bodley. I hurried then along the High Street to get to Magdalen College to meet my friends Alexander and Jessica for tea.
Tea by the Thames at Magdalen Bridge:
            One of the perks of having a friend who is a Fellow at Magdalen College is that one gets invited to afternoon tea to a café on the banks of the Thames where you can watch punters and swans sail past on the river as well as red buses on the bridge. It was idyllic and meeting my friend Alex and his girlfriend Jessica there was a truly memorable experience. We settled down to chat and to sip our tea and remember the past years when I had punted down the Thames with my class mates. Alex and Jessica were great company and I enjoyed discussing their current academic projects with them and the research in which they are currently engaged as Art Historians. After a long chat when they had to return to work, I pottered around the vast grounds of Magdalen College to take in its Deer Park and its wonderful perennial gardens, its chapel and its dining hall and its beautiful quadrangle filled with white hydrangeas.
Yet Another Walking Tour:
            I crossed the High to get to the Botanical Garden but, alas, they had closed for the day. It was time then to take on another one of my favorite walking tours of Oxford. And here is how it goes: I crossed the High once again and entered narrow Queens Lane (just to the right of Queens College). All the way down I went past St. Edmund Hall and New College to emerge at Hertford Lane in front of the Bridge of Sighs. The Sheldonian Theater was right in front to me and I managed to do something I had never done in all the years and all the times I have been to Oxford:  I managed to get the guard at the gate to let me peek inside Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpiece to see the interior. And there is was: the tiered stands (scene of another one of the Inspector Morse episodes that featured the great Sir John Gielgud playing the Chancellor of Oxford University). I observed the great ceiling frescoes (done by Richard Streeter, I was informed) and the spectacular organ. And this is why I have never been inside—entrance in restricted to those involved in Graduation ceremonies that take place in the Sheldonian and to classical music concerts which I have never managed to attend. So it was an achievement indeed to be able to see the inside of it–and I was thrilled.
            Across the street, I entered the famous bookstore named Blackwells—a massive and well-established Oxford enterprise. I was headed for one particular part of the store—the underground Norrington Room which occurs in the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s largest single-room bookstore. It is so large that it goes down in graduated tiers way below Trinity College which lies next door. Indeed it was a fun place to browse in especially after I spied a book written by the Director of NYU in London, Gary Slapper, prominently displayed on its shelves.
            I also discovered from a book at Blackwell’s entitled Oxford, Then and Now, that the view of the dreaming spires could best be taken from the village of Elsfield and instead of going up to Matthew Arnold’s Field, I thought I would ask Sue and Tony if they could go on to Elsfield instead.
            Across the street I went and on to the end of The Broad towards Balliol College from where I walked back to Tony and Sue’s place. I was really tired but it was 7.00 pm and I had told them I would be back to take them for dinner—so without much ado, off we went.      
Dinner at The Victoria Arms on the Thames:
            Yes, we did make a detour to Elsfield because Sue and Tony thought it was right on our way—and no, we did not get to see much of the dreaming spires—just a rather hazy picture appeared but I was quite content with it.
            Were I twenty years younger, it would have been great fun to punt from Oxford on the Thames to the “Vicky Arms” as this famous pub on the banks of the Thames is known locally. As it was, Tony kindly drove us there. It is the scene of many an episode in Inspector Morse—in fact, it is the one in which he grows philosophical about the waning of life with the receding sun in the last episode The Remorseful Day. So I was doubly delighted that we were at this venue to celebrate my stay with a Thank-you dinner for my hosts Sue and Tony who had gone out of their way to make my stay in Oxford both comfortable and memorable. I was so moved by the setting and the lovely drinks (I had a Pimms—because how can you leave Oxford in summer without a Pimms, right?) and the great food. The punters were a-plenty as they rowed in and left, drinks were downed with merriment in a place crowded with jolly patrons. We had the perfect picnic table, right by the water’s edge where ducks swam past as the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon. I chose to eat a cod loin with Parma ham, Tony had the beef and ale pot pie and Sue chose the Fish and Chips and for dessert, we all had ice-cream—salted caramel and chocolate and honeycomb. Yummiiieee! Meanwhile, we discovered that the Vicky Arms is rich in Oxonian history—It appears in the Domesday Book and Charles II is supposed to have supped there while plotting the political Restoration.
            Because all great things must come to an end, we had to eventually tear ourselves away from that bucolic scene and return to reality—but what a meal and what a splendid evening it had been. I know I will not forget it in a long long time.
            It was about 11.00 pm  when we returned home, quite sated indeed, and although Sue and Tony sat up with mugs of tea, I excused myself and fell immediately in bed.
            Until tomorrow, Cheerio!

Yaay! In Oxford Again! Kelmscott Manor & Fairford Church

Jul31

Wednesday, July 31, 2013
The Cotswolds and Oxford


          Today, I made a 30 year old dream come true—again, a small one, but a dream nonetheless. I finally visited Kelmscott Manor, home of the Arts and Crafts Movement and Pre-Raphaelite artist, William Morris. But let me get back to the beginning.
            I arrived in Oxford on the X-90 coach—the first time I was using this service, but it was the most economical. I had left Battersea at 7.00 am, then taken the 7. 15 bus, arrived in Victoria at 7. 35 and got on the 8.00 am coach. Wifi on the coach allowed me to catch up with some work for an hour and a half. It was drizzling and mist made visibility poor on the M40 to Oxford. But before I knew it, we were on Magdalen Bridge and, as always, I recalled my first arrival in this glorious city almost 30 years ago—and how excitedly that tight knot of happiness had sat in my tummy—for then too, I had been experiencing a dream come true—that of studying at Oxford!
             My friends Sue and Tony live in South Oxford (in Grandpont) and in about 10 minutes, Tony arrived in a spiffy red car to pick me up. He took me over to his place where I had a nide reunion with Sue. We had a glass of elderflower water (which I really like) and then we were off—there was no time to lose as we were headed for Kelmscott Manor which is a good half hour’s drive away.
On the Road to Kelmscott Manor:
            When I was a student at Exeter College in Oxford, almost 30 years ago, an excursion had been organized to Kelmscott Manor, home of William Morris and then on to the Cotswold Village of Burford. Ignorant Me had never heard of him then and I had opted not to take the excursion. It is a decision I regretted through all that time because, as the years rolled by, I grew familiar with Morris and his great contribution to Art History as a founder/practitioner of the Arts and Crafts Movement and of the Pre-Raphaelite Movement with his Exeter College, Oxford, buddies Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Edward Burne-Jones (of whose work I am a dedicated fan).
            Well, like most such historic homes in the UK, Kelmscott Manor sits in the middle of nowhere—literally in the heart of the country in Lechlade in Gloucestershire, which is on the edge of the gorgeous Cotswolds. So every time I have attempted to get to it (on repeated visits to Oxford, over the years), I have never been able to as there is no public transport to get there and they keep the house open only for a few days a week. Well, long story short, this time, with Sue and Tony having a car, we could get there easily. So I was very excited, once again, and I could not wait to see the inside of the house.     
Finally Inside Kelmscott Manor:
            Entry to Kelmscott is 9 pounds for adults. You get a self-guided tour and the services of volunteer guides in each room as well as a printed guide leaflet that takes you through the rooms and points out its features.  I will try to keep the history of this house brief—so that I can remember it myself. It is a Tudor home, originally built in the mid-1500s, and belonged for generations to a Turner family (they made the turning rings for corn mills—hence their family name!). There are several members of the Turner family buried in the near-by church. The original home (so-called because it is in the village of Kelmscott) is small and dark with tiny rooms and low ceilings. In the mid-1600s, the Turner family came into some money and put an extension on to the house—this part is clearly different with higher ceilings, bigger rooms, larger fireplaces (one bears the family’s coat of arms that features mill-turners) and much more light.
           In the mid-1900s, when William Morris was looking for a country retreat away from his Red Lion Square home in London—a place where he could paint undisturbed—he got to know that the Turner family wished to rent their place near Oxford. Morris took a look at it—it was love at first sight. He co-rented the place with his best friend, the artist Dante Gabriel Rosetti, and moved into Kelmscott Manor with his family—wife Jane and their two daughters, Jenny (an epileptic) and May (who became an artist in her own right). It proved to be an extremely creative and productive phase in his life although it was marred by the romantic relationship that developed between Jane and Rosetti of which he was aware. The Morrises stayed married but every single painting you see featuring a beautiful young woman in it by either Rosetti or Burne-Jones or Morris himself is Jane.
            Kelmscott Manor retains the look of a simple domestic Tudor interior combined with decoration by an Arts and Crafts artist. There are wall-hangings that were designed by Morris and either embroidered by him (yes, indeed, he did embroidery!) or Jane, curtains made from fabrics whose patterns he designed, loads of wall-paper, lots of paintings—either by him or May. His style is distinctive in the close (some might say ‘busy’) patterns featuring flowers, fruit, vines, leaves, branches—all inspired by Nature and the profusion of plants in the neighborhood. There is a grand old bed in Morris’ bedroom that he loved so much that he wrote a poem on it. His wife Jane then embroidered the lines around the valance of the bed and his daughter May embroidered a counterpane for it. It is simply splendid. There is also a very unusual stairway—the only one of its kind I have ever seen—a sort of dual staircase. You put one foot on one side of it and the other on the other side. Unfortunately, no pictures could be taken in the house so I will have to try to commit it to memory. The décor is purely minimalist—remember those famous words of Morris: Do not have anything in your home that you do not consider both beautiful and useful. Words that we could all live by, aren’t they? Especially in these days when all you hear about is de-cluttering.
            At Kelmscott, Morris who adored books, founded the Kelmscott Press which brought out The Complete Works of Chaucer, among others. It had illustrations by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. It kept Morris busy for years as well as financially successful.
            The gardens at Kelmscott are also famous and quite beautiful for Morris was a passionate gardener. They completely surround the house and although small are impressive in their order and their beauty. It is a lovely place and I was so glad I finally had the chance to visit.
            Morris loved the house and passed away in it. He is buried in the neighboring village churchyard besides a bay bush. His wife and children were subsequently buried in the same plot. You can visit the old Tudor church which is in itself fascinating in its antiquity and then wander out into the churchyard to see the gravestone that is withering rapidly with age. After Morris’ death, his widow and daughters continued to live in Kelmscott Manor until Jane passed away. May became guardian to her sister Jenny and moved to their London home in Hammersmith where she lived until Jenny died. May ultimately returned to Kelmscott Manor and, watching it fade away, willed it to the Rector of Exeter College who held on to it for sometime. When it was found that maintenance was too expensive, the college passed it on to a London company of Antiquarians who restored it and have run it as a museum. Indeed it is thanks to May that her father’s memory lives on so vividly. The Pre-Raphaelite Movement was a brief moment in time but it left us a wonderful modern vision for the future that was both practical and beautiful.
Seeing Morris’ Grave:
            We walked down the lane outside Kelmscott Manor to the village parish church to see the graves of the Morris family besides a bay bush. The church itself is old and plain but memorial plaques to the Turners are all over the wall. Most visitors come in now because of the association with Morris. It is a rather plain grave and the lettering is fast fading through wind erosion—but it is worth seeing especially if one has read the account of his burial by his friend Murray and seen the portrait of Morris on his death bed by the same artist.             
Heading on to Fairford:
             Sue and Tony were keen for me to see the Parish Church of Fairford which is about a 15 minute drive away because it contains the only completely intact set of medieval stained glass in the UK. Indeed, the drive through the Cotswolds on the edge of Gloucestershire and Wiltshire was simply delightful and brought back to my mind memories of the lovely drives Llew, Chriselle and I had taken through the Cotswolds, several years ago—one of our loveliest family holidays. There were the narrowest pathways through the fields which made it difficult for two vehicles to pass together—but thoughtful bypass areas made it possible for cars to pass back and forth. Fields lying fallow lay on either side of the road and with the sun shining golden upon the earth, it was a delightful drive past the village of Lechlade and into Fairford.
The Stained Glass of Fairford Church:
            The church at Fairford dates back to Tudor times—the times of Henry Tudor who is also known as Henry VII, father of the infamous Henry VIII.   As a patron of the church, the stained glass panels that were designed and fitted in his time feature his daughter Margaret (in disguise and in Tudor dress) in two panels. They are full of the most exquisite detail because all stained glass windows were used for ecclesiastical teaching—as catechism tools at a time when few people could read.
            We encircled the church with the useful book that the lady at the entrance handed us and we were able to interpret the depictions from the Bible on glass. Of course, a large number of the windows have been restored through the centuries but it was still pretty remarkable to be in that space. Other Tudor features of the church are also noteworthy—a Baptismal font that dates back centuries, a carved wooden choir screen, pews and choir stalls. Indeed it was atmospheric and I am so glad my friends suggested we see this church to which people from all over the world come to catch a glimpse.
Drive Back to Oxford:
            The drive back to Oxford was wonderful—again, the Cotswolds are special and I feel thrilled to return each time I do. But while Tony and Sue relaxed, I headed to my next appointment.
Drinks with my Former Oxford Landlords:
            Five years ago, when I had a Fellowship of sorts at St. Antony’s College, Oxford, I had stayed with retired dons, Elizabeth and David Longrigg in their grand old North Oxford English Gothic mansion at 23 Norham Road right off Norham Gardens about which the English novelist Penelope Lively wrote a novel called The House at Norham Gardens. I had occupied the sun room just above the car port and I have the happiest memories of my time there.
            When I informed Mrs. Longrigg (which whom I have stayed in email contact) that I would be visiting Oxford, she invited me over for drinks. The long walk from South Oxford to North Oxford took me 45 minutes but I passed through some of my most beloved parts of the city—St. Aldates, Carfax, Cornmarket, The Martyrs Memorial, the two pubs that the Inklings popularized: The Lamb and Flagand The Eagle and Child, the War Memorial at St. Giles—and then I was at Parks Road and admiring the architecture of the North Oxford homes. How lucky I have been to have lived in such places and what warm and happy memories that have left in my heart!      
            The Longriggs were just lovely and I had the nicest time with them. They had drinks all set out—wine, elderflower water (which I had), and nibbles: taramasalata on crackers, chips with guacamole, pickled olives. It was so very nice of them. We stayed and chatted—there was so much to catch up on. I find them intensely interesting and their stories of family successes and their travels kept me enthralled. I discovered that their grandson Arthur Bowen, their daughter’s son, played Harry Potter’s son Albus Potter in the last Harry Potter movie and was interviewed in various magazines that they proudly display on their piano! How marvelous! Indeed, it was a fabulous evening and after spending over an hour with them, I left for the 45 minute walk back to Sue and Tony’s where I arrived just in time for dinner.
Dinner at Home with Sue and Tony:
            Sue had cooked salmon quite expertly indeed with chilli and fresh ginger—delicious! There were a variety of vegetables grown in their ‘allotment’—a patch of land not too far away where they grow their own veg. There were beetroots, broad beans (what Americans call Lima beans), boiled potatoes with mint. It was a very colorful plate indeed and everything was delicious. For dessert, there were fresh raspberries with Greek yoghurt—so healthy, so fresh. We chatted a whole lot and tried to plan our days together.
            And soon it was time to say goodbye and go to bed after what had been a tremendously productive day and one I will long remember.    
              Until tomorrow, cheerio!

In Oxford Again! Giving A Lecture at Exeter College

Jul30

Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Oxford

Made it! Despite getting to bed about 2 am, we boarded our Megabus coach to Oxford at 6. 30 right on schedule. Llew tried to snatch some ZZZZs but I was so keyed up about my 9. 00 am lecture at Exeter College and spent most of the ride into Wiltshire reviewing my draft and editing it as I went along! As the coach skimmed the outskirts of Oxford and arrived on The High, I took a deep breath and decided that this was it—I had to just hope that all my weeks of thought and ideas would achieve success and go down well with the students.

It was still only 8. 15 am when we arrived at Exeter College. The High and Turl Street were empty and eerily quiet as we checked in at the Porter’s Lodge, introduced ourselves and made our way to the Saskatchewan Lecture Hall where I met Jacqueline Darville who has been corresponding with me for weeks as I have prepared for this very prestigious but very daunting assignment.

It wasn’t long before I met up with Sandie Bryne who had invited me to speak to the International Graduate students who are here for the summer. They were already assembled in huge numbers when I arrived in the hall and made my way up to the stage. Miraculously, the butterflies in my tummy had stopped playing catch and I was able to focus entirely on the hour that lay ahead. I decided to speak slowly as I was not sure how many of my listeners would be familiar with the authors and the works I would be discussing. Post-Colonial Literature is not necessarily their area of specialization though it might be of interest to them. Sandie Bryne introduced me and the subject of my lecture (“India Ink: Themes and Techniques in Post-Colonial Literature from the Sub-Continent”)…and then I was off.

I spoke for a full hour and fifteen minutes covering as comprehensively as possible the main movements in literature in English from the Indian sub-continent that have been inspired by Great Britain. Yes, there was a great deal for the students to take in and I was asked for a reading list at the end of the lecture. Even though I judged only by the faces of my listeners, I could tell that my words were going down well and that they were taking in a whole lot. Sandie said a few words at the end of my lecture and then told me that she thought my lecture was great. And then, before I knew it, she was inviting me to come back again next year to address the students once again. I was so thrilled, I told her right away that it would be my pleasure and privilege indeed. So I now can look forward to another visit to the UK and Oxford if not sooner then at least next summer!

As soon as the lecture was done, I had students come up and tell me how much they enjoyed it and on the way out, a couple of the members of my audience, professors of English themselves, one from Australia and another from Miami, Florida (oh, and there was a third from South Carolina), told me that they thought I was “outstanding” and wanted to know more about my background. Well, I was deeply deeply pleased and as I walked out of Exeter College with Llew, I told him that I felt as if a massive weight had been lifted off my mind and that I could now really put my work for the year behind me and start to enjoy our forthcoming travels in France.

Back to Norham Road:
Llew and I took a circuitous route around Oxford towards the North as I was headed to Mrs. Longrigg’s home on Norham Road, the place in which I had stayed a few weeks ago, as I had left my electric adaptor plug there and hoped to pick it up. This gave Llew a chance to take in the charm and serenity of North Oxford and to see the lovely gracious Victorian mansion in which I had stayed.

Taking in the Pitt Rivers Museum:
Our next stop was at the Oxford Museum of Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum where I wanted Llew to see the famed but very eerie shrunken heads. We did not stay there too long as the heads take not more than ten minutes to examine and the rest of the museum is much too large to be seen in detail. Llew did say that the architecture of the Museum of Natural History reminded him of Empress Market in Karachi and I informed him that both these buildings were built during the heyday of Victorian architecture informed by staid facades, rising turrets and an alternation in brick and granite blocks to create decorative walls. Indeed, this style of architecture is also to be found at Crawford Market in Bombay which is distinctive for its tower or turret too. Llew also loved the architecture of Keble College (again, a great example of Victorian construction) with its vast sunken Quad.

Our rambles then took us back to The High where we visited Blackwell’s, one of the world’s most famous bookstores where we browsed for a bit and then carried on along the walk that I have placed on my website (in virtual form) as this stroll takes in the main sights of the town such as the Sheldonian Theater, the Radcliff Camera, the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin on the High Street, etc. I also took Llew into a few of the pubs frequented by the Morse crew during the making of the series (as Llew too is a big fan of the TV series).

By the time lunch hour was reached, we were both ravenous having made do with a very light breakfast. I suggested we eat at Jamie’s Italian Restaurant on George Street which I had passed a few weeks ago and decided I would check out when Llew joined me. But before that, I thought it would be great to get a real ale at one of Oxford’s more historic pubs—and though there are a bunch of them, each frequented by famous writers and politicians over the years, I chose The Bear on the corner of Alfred and Merton Streets because I did want Llew to have a look at the collection of ties that line its walls and ceilings in beautifully designed glass cases. Indeed, it was once a possibility to pay for one’s drink at this tavern with a tie (alas, not any more!). Each tie is carefully labeled with the name of the wearer and his Oxford affiliation and as we sipped our Perry (pear cider, for that was what we decided upon, ultimately, as the afternoon was warm and just begged for a lighter drink), we studied the cases and their fascinating histories. And so on to Jamie’s…

Jamie, of course, is Jamie Oliver, the UK’s most famous TV chef, author of a slew of books and owner of renowned restaurants such as Fifteen (in London and in Cornwall). He is also single handedly responsible for changing school menus in the UK by critiquing the heavy fat and sugar content in them and begging for alternative healthy choices for the kids who eat lunches in school.

Well, the lunch time offerings were quite delicious indeed. I had the Tagliatelle Truffle (8. 50 pounds for a main size serving though this also comes as an appetizer for 5.95) which was finely shaved wild black truffles folded with butter, parmesan and nutmeg, and described on the menu as “a real luxury”—and indeed it was silky and very subtly flavored, the truffle adding a powerful earthiness to the concoction. Llew chose the Spiedini Sicilian Pork Skewer which was free-range British pork fillet stuffed with Italian cured meats, breadcrumbs and parmesan served with lemon, garlic and oregano dressing (11.95 pounds). Believe me, it was scrumptious and I am glad that Llew and I always tend to share our choices as he is invariably the one who seems to make the better ones! Having said that, I must emphasize that my pasta was really superb and I was so glad that I did finally get to sample one of Jamie’s concoctions as I have watched him work his magic on TV for years and have always been intrigued by his extraordinary flair.

Lunch done, we decided to go for a long walk along the Meadows to the banks of the River Thames. The afternoon was warm and very typical of summer days in this delightful town. Having eaten too much of an excellent meal, we had to practically pull ourselves along to the banks of the Cherwell near Christ Church College where we watched punters glide lazily by stalked by two saucy swans who stuck their long beaks at them! A few people enjoyed the bucolic quality of the light and the breeze in the best way that they can be experienced—with a long lie-down on the grass–and it was not long before Llew and I succumbed to the temptation and did likewise.

Dinner at Exeter College Dining Hall:
We had dinner plans with Sandie again at the 16th century Dining Hall of Exeter Collegee where I had enjoyed many a delicious meal as a student and I was keen that Llew should have that singular experience himself. So I have to say that I was disappointed to discover that students are no longer invited to sit in rotation with the dons at High Table and enjoy meals within the formality of one of the most hallowed spaces in town. Instead, they sit casuallyto a meal that is served without the recitation of a Grace (ours used to be recited either in Latin or in Welsh by the excellent Geoffrey Thomas who, hailing from Wales, proudly spoke in the tongue of his native land).

We had reservations on the Megabus Coach back to London at 8. 40 pm and at the end of what had turned out to be a really good day (but for the disastrous meal), we boarded our coach and arrived at Notting Hill Gate where we switched to the Tube to arrive at Denmark House and get ready…no not for bed but for our next trip!

It wasn’t as if we could make up for our short night, for we had to awake early again—this time to get the 5. 30 am Eurostar train from St. Pancras International Station and it was a good thing that our bags for France were packed and ready. We set our alarm clock once again and prepared to sleep well as our French adventures lay ahead of us and we were ready for another meaningful week together in one of my favorite parts of the world.

Endless Errands and a Memorable Farewell Party

Jul30

Tuesday, July 21, 2009
London

The morning passed by in a flash as we finished up all the last-minute errands I needed to run. We began at my former apartment building at High Holborn where I made a trip especially to bid goodbye to Arben my concierge and Martha my janitor for whom I also took along small Thank-you gifts. After taking a few pictures with them, we were off, promising to return to see them whenever our paths next crossed in London.

We then walked to NYU in Bloomsbury where I had loads of material to print out and goodbyes to say to all the administrative staff at our Bedford Square campus who were so helpful to me throughout the past year. I was disappointed that a dental appointment he had that morning made it impossible for me to meet David Ruben who as Director of our London Program had steered us towards tremendous success as a faculty and was especially warm and welcoming towards Karen and myself during our year in London. With many last-minute pictures taken and hugs and kisses exchanged, Llew and I hurried out to complete our errands.

It had been my intention to buy an umbrella before leaving London from James Smith Umbrella and Stick Shop (that’s walking sticks, by the way) on New Oxford Street—a shop that dates from the mid 1800s and is probably the oldest in the area. It was packed to capacity with tourists who probably all had the same idea. However, on perusing the wares, I received sticker shock and decided that I would keep this purchase for a next visit to London.

Llew’s First Visit to Sir John Soanes’ Museum:
Our next stop was Sainsbury at High Holborn, but before we went through the items on our list, I suggested that we stop off at the Sir John Soanes Museum as I really did want Llew to have a look at this place. There was a short line at the entrance and since the usher informed me that wait time was half an hour, I left Llew in the queue and hurried off to the opposite side of Lincoln’s Inn Field to take a picture of The Old Curiosity Shop as the last time I had passed it on one of my walks, I did not have my camera with me. This store is, of course, famous from Charles Dickens’ novel of the same title, but rumor has it that this store did not exist as a store in Dickens’ time (though the building did). Be that as it may, it made for a picturesque stop and having accomplished that goal, I returned to meet Llew in the line.

The interior of the museum is stuffed with the many architectural fragments, paintings, prints, drawings and objects d’art that were acquired by the eccentric Sir John Soanes (architect, among other buildings of the Bank of England and the Dulwich Picture Gallery). The house has been left exactly as it might have been in his day and is remarkable for the entire series of works that makes up William Hogarth’s ‘The Rake’s Progress’ as well as the intriguing and very unique Picture Closet he designed which opened in alternating leaves to enable him to showcase his collection of architectural drawings by his collaborator Ghandy.

Needless to say, Llew was quite taken by the depth and variety of the pieces collected—these comprise finds from such Classical civilizations as Greece, Rome and Turkey as well as ones from closer to home such as the remains of the many demolitions that took place in Victorian times of London’s older buildings. It is easy to see how much of a passion architecture was to this unusual human being who has left us such a stirring legacy of his day and age—and of those that went before him.

Off to Sainsburys for the Last Time:
As I went through our pantry list at Sainsburys at High Holborn, my mind went back to my first week in London when I had been there with my strolley and bought at least fifty pounds worth of bottles and jars containing every sort of condiment that I would require for my tiny kitchen. One year later, I was returning there with Llew to pick up party supplies for the evening by way of paper goods and wine as I had already placed an order for the party to be catered by a Pakistani woman named Farah.

Luckily, Sainsbury agreed to take back the bottles of wine that we would not consume—this left us free to buy extra rather than run out during the party. With this big purchase behind us, we walked home to Farringdon, ate a hasty lunch, took a short nap and decided to get cracking on the set up for our party. Our guests were expected by 7. 30 and while there wasn’t a whole lot to do, there was still our packing to be done and a load of other errands to be accomplished. My mind was also rather preoccupied by the lecture I would be giving at Oxford the next day and as last-minute thoughts went through my mind, I tried to stay focused on the upcoming evening.

A Farewell Party for Fond Friends:
Last year at this time, when I was leaving the States, Llew and Chriselle had thrown a Farewell Party for me—and exactly one year later, Llew and I were throwing a Farewell party for our newest London friends. Paul and Loulou had arrived during the afternoon and rushed off to the National Theater to have dinner and see Phedre with friends. They were expected back at the flat by 10. 30 pm which gave us a lot of time to get the party moving.

Unfortunately, as often happens despite the best-laid plans, a few of my friends called to bow out of their commitment to attend as one family had symptoms of the swine flu that is threatening to turn into a pandemic in the UK while other folks called for other reasons. Stephanie had injured her knee in a cycling accident in Richmond and Rahul was tied up at work. Milan called to say he would arrive late—this allowed us to actually have a sit down dinner at Paul and Loulou’s massive dining table which seats twelve people. With our Indian meal delivered at 7. 45 pm and our guests still trickling in, the evening started to get clamorous. Our friends Matt and Rosa were the first to arrive from far away Bishops Stortford and were followed rapidly by a host of other people from closer home. Rosemary brought her art connoisseur son Alexander along. He became fascinated by the marvelous collection of contemporary British art in the flat and walked pensively around the framed works that line the walls of this massive loft. It was fun to see how astounded people were as they entered this cavernous space and every single one of them asked me how on earth I had managed to find this incredible dwelling. Doubtless they could not wait to meet owners Paul and Loulou who would be joining us later in the evening.

Well, the party went along swimmingly. I was so pleased that Llew had the chance to meet so many of the new friends I made in London including Bash who came minus the date he said he would be bringing along. Milan did arrive just as we sat down to eat dinner which involved pulling along an extra chair to the table. Conversation flowed easily as my guests got to know one another over wine and pakoras, chicken biryani and the raita that I had rustled up in the afternoon after our return from grocery shopping. For dessert, Tim, who was once a West End chef, had brought along his amazing Brown Bread Ice-cream that he decorated expertly with fresh strawberries that he then served as an accompaniment. The overall impression was stunning and I have to say that my guests were quite floored by Tim’s expertise.

True to their word, Paul and Loulou arrived at half past ten and then spent the next hour mingling with my guests and getting to know them. They were able to enlighten Alex who wanted to know more bout their favorite artists and in turn recommended a few of his favorite galleries for their browsing pleasure. Indeed it was a lovely end to a superb evening and Loulou even stayed on to help us clear up and put things away long after the last of our guests left at midnight.

A Tearful Goodbye:
Since she was leaving for Suffolk the next morning, I said a very tearful goodbye to her and Paul. They have proven to be the most wonderful friends a single gal could have desired in London and I do believe that they came into my life as the answer to my prayers. I spent the most memorable weeks in their London loft as well as enjoyed their country lifestyle in Iken, Suffolk, where they enjoy the rural riches of England. They were great company to me on the occasional times that they did pop into their London pad and we had great dinners and breakfasts together when we discussed our mutual love for gardens and art, theater and books, London, India (where they honeymooned for six whole months!) and the United States. I know I will always carry happy memories in my heart of my days with them. It has hard for me to believe that I met them for the first time only six months ago—so close have we grown!

It was almost 1. 30 pm when Llew and I switched off the last of the lights and set our alarm for our early departure for Oxford—after leaving loads of biryani for Loulou and Paul in their freezer! Indeed, we had the 6. 30 am coach to catch from Victoria and with my lecture reposing for the night in my pocket book, I hoped very much that all would go well for me when a new day dawned.

Welcome Back to London Llew! And Dinner with Friends at Moro

Jul19

Saturday, July 18, 2009
London

I awoke at 6. 30 am, switched on my PC and received the disappointing news from Sylvia in Canada and Chriselle in New York that Llew’s flight had been delayed –by four hours!!!! I was devastated–not just because it meant that he would now only arrive at Heathrow at noon, and, therefore, at my flat after 2. 30 pm, not just that it would mean a complete disarray in my intended plans of going to the theater to see The Mountaintop (a new play about the last days of Martin Luther King, Jr), but because it was such a gorgeous day and I could not believe that all of it would be wasted–when we had such few days together in London. Well, after I got over my disappointment, I figured it was just as well.

The delay left me time to take a shower and clean my room as well as finish work on my Oxford lecture to which I put the finishing touches. Needless to say, I was greatly relieved when this was all done as I am now ready to face my audience of graduate students at Exeter College this coming Wednesday. I put myself through part of a practice run with it when I realized that I had to go and pick up the tickets for The Mountaintop as I had told Chaichin to hold them for me and didn’t want to disappoint her. The trip to Charing Cross and back took over an hour and by the time I reached home, I barely raced Llew (arriving from Heathrow) by about 15 minutes.

Then, at 2. 30, he was ringing my doorbell downstairs and then, finally, he was with me and my year-long solitude came to an end. Of course, he was equally disappointed and fatigued and sleep-deprived when he came in and after a glass of grapefruit juice and a late lunch of pasta with asparagus and ham and peas, he felt better. It was time for him to shave and take a shower and because neither one of us wanted to waste a spectacular day, we got dressed and went off for a walk.

I took Llew around our new neighborhood, showing him the sights that are most notable–St. John’s Gate and Museum, Smithfield Meat Market, The Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, the home of Sir John Betjeman and the cafe that is named after him at Cloth Fair, The Church of St. Bartholomew the Less, St. Bart’s Hospital, Charterhouse Square and the Cloisters and the marvelous variety of architectural styles around the square including the Art Deco building which was used as the location for the Hercule Poirot TV series–Llew is a big fan!

On our way past the Charterhouse Monastery, we spied a mulberry tree just laden with luscious ripe fruit and it was all I could do to resist stripping it down completely. Well, we requested permission of the guard and the next thing you know, rivulets of red juice were running down our fingers and on to our elbows as we plucked the jewel berries from the tree and popped them straight into our mouths. When we had our fill, we left, having dragged the guard into our mischievous pursuits as well.

Then, we walked briskly up to Fleet Street and took the Number 15 bus to Trafalgar Square when we alighted into a slight drizzle. As neither one of us had the foresight to carry our brollies, we had little choice but to shelter under a protruding roof line that offered quite a good view of Anthony Gormley’s Plinth that is supposed to be a form of Live Art in that it offers human beings the chance to climb upon it and hold the fort for a fixed period of time. Passing in the buses over the past few days, I have seen all sorts of entertainment being presented from the vantage point though this evening while we were there, all we saw was a rather dour man sitting and facing the square and doing absolutely nothing at all. It was quite boring and made the entire concept seem more bizarre.

Since the rain continued unabated, we figured it was best to take the bus and get back home so that we could rest for a bit before starting to get dressed for our evening dinner appointment with Tim and Barbara. Back home, I brewed us a pot of tea and over steaming cups and a pack of French macaroons which Llew really enjoyed, we caught up as there were so many things we had to talk about–it just did not stop.

Finally, we got dressed and awaited the arrival of my former neighbors who arrived promptly at 8. 40 pm. We sat down and chatted for a while over a glass of rose wine and some roasted almonds and left our flat at 9. 05 to walk to Moro for our 9. 15 reservation.

Moro has become a legendary restaurant in Exmouth Market in London’s Clerkenwell area, a ten minute walk from my flat. Its chef is the son of Kenneth Clark of Civilization fame, who, when I was fifteen years old and watched screenings of it on Bombay TV, became madly involved in the study of Art History–something that has remained a passion for me. So I was pleased to be dining in the restaurant of the son of the man who made an art historian of sorts of me.

Tim and Barbara were great company, as usual, as we poured over the menu and decided to start with glasses of dry sherry (well, when in Spain…). As we sipped our sherry, we awaited the arrival of our appetisers–we chose a Serrano ham served on a bed of well-seasoned rocket, a pasta dish with seafood (there were prawns, cray fish and langoustines in the earthen dish in which they were baked) and a paper thin dried tuna (mojama). All of this was very interesting with the seafood pasta being the best of the lot. Bread and olive oil had been passed around for nibbling on. We ordered a red Spanish Rioja to be enjoyed with our meal and it was served just a few minutes later.

Llew went for the grilled lamb (as did Barbara), Tim chose a roast pork which was finished by the time he made his order (leaving him to have the bream, instead while I chose the mixed vegetable mezze. Everything was superb and the mezzes took me right back to Greece where Llew and I had enjoyed some of the most memorable meals we have ever eater.

Despite the fact that we had done justice to our meal, we did opt to order desserts–Llew and I chose to split a chocolate and apricot tart which was very good, Barbara ate the Jerez cream with fresh raspberries while Tim went for the Malaga rum and raisin ice-cream. Overall, we had a very good meal but it was certainly not the best we have ever eaten.

Tim and Barbara came back to our place after dinner (we walked home taking a more complicated route so that I could show Llew the building in which Karen had stayed) and when we arrived at Denmark House, I put the kettle on to brew coffee which we sipped as we continued to chat. There is always so much to catch up on and it was after 12. 45 when they got up to leave after what had been a rather exciting first day for Llew.

I am so happy to have him back with me and to be able to share with him every hidden corner of this beloved city with me. We will be hard pressed for time in the next few days, but we intend to enjoy it as much as we can and to squeeze the maximum pleasure out of it. We are glad we began by sharing it with some of our closest friends in the city.