Tag Archive | Tower of London

Towers, Gallows, Churches, Markets–Another Fascinating Walk

Jun9

Tuesday, June 9, 2009
London

I am sorry to have to spend so much time analyzing the vagaries of my sleep patterns, but they never cease to amaze me. Throughout the winter, when most folks tend to sleep in, I was awaking at the crack of dawn–even before dawn had cracked, in most days, i.e. at 4 and 5 and 6 am! Now, when summer is almost upon us and light appears in the eastern night sky before 5am, I sleep curled up like a baby until 7 and 8 am!!! This is the weirdest thing and I have never in my life experienced anything like it. Much as I am delighted that I am finally sleeping long and well, I am also sorry to lose the several productive hours I had at my PC in bed long before the rest of the world stirred.

At any rate, I awoke at 7 today, read Potter for an hour, called my parents in Bombay and spent almost an hour on the phone catching up with them about so many things, then sat to blog about my day yesterday. This took me a good part of the morning and it was about 11. 30 when I got out of bed!!! Since it was too late for breakfast, I fixed myself a brunch (toasted parma ham and blue cheese sandwich with some good coffee) and got back to my PC right after that to call my cousin Blossom in Madras. That chat when on for ages, then emailing back and forth with Chriselle in the States (after a long chat with Llew in the morning–we’re all about her wedding plans right now) and I found that it was about 4 pm when I finished all the things I wanted to do–most of which involved scheduling my projects for the next few weeks.

With time running out and my return to the States becoming imminent with every passing day, I feel pressured into completing all the items on my To-Do List as well as making time for my library research and for drafting the lecture that I have been invited to give to the international graduate students at Oxford in the middle of July! So you can imagine that I am beginning to feel as if I should make every second count–as if I haven’t been doing that for the past one year already!

The end result is that I have almost given up the idea of doing the Homes and Gardens Tour that I had intended as I find that most of the places I want to visit are way out of the public transport tracks and would take me ages to reach if I used the National Express coach services. Instead, I have decided to try and see just a couple of the gardens that can be reached by local train lines from London (such as Sissinghurst and Wisley Royal Garden) and to see the estates and mansions that lie sprinkled along the Thames. When I am in Oxford, during the third week of this month, I shall find it easier to reach places in the Cotswolds and in Wiltshire and at that time, I can try to see Blenheim Palace, Kelmscott Manor and the Hidcote Manor Gardens. So major changes in plans for me mean that next week I ought to be able to spend a whole week at the British Library with documents that will aid my understanding of negotiations that were carried out between the officials of the departing British Raj and the representatives of the Anglo-Indian Association.

I am, in a way, relieved that I have modified my plans. Everyone thought I was idiotic to aim at so ambitious an itinerary and I can now see why. At any rate, with so many wonderful places to cover that are so much closer to London, it makes no sense to be spending long hours in coaches, stuck in traffic when I would rather be out on my two feet exploring the country. So with those alterations in my plans all set, I could take a shower, dress and go off to cover one more self-guided walk in my book–this one entitled “Wanderings and Wizards”.

Wanderings and Wizards Walk:
There was much more than wanderings and wizards on this walk which turned out to be a sampler of sorts for it offered everything that the city of London has been known legendarily to possess–marvelous Wren churches, spooky graveyards, teeny-tiny tucked-away gardens, dim alleyways, atmospheric pubs and even a gigantic Victorian market–Leadenhall, so-called because its roof was made of lead and glass in the 19th century.

So, let’s begin at the beginning: I started off at Tower Hill (took another old Routemaster 15 bus there–I will never tire of the thrill of riding in these relics from a past era) and arrived at the Tower Hill Underground Station from where I walked across Trinity Square Gardens to arrive at the Memorial to the members of the Merchant Marine Corps who gave up their lives for their country–and then to a far older monument–the Memorial to the many men and women who were beheaded from 1381 to 1747.

The Tower of London is right across the busy road and I could only imagine what the last minutes of these poor ill-fated individuals might have been like as they made the journey from their prison cells in the Tower to this spot. Beheadings and hangings were public spectacle in those awful days and people gathered in vast numbers to take in these gruesome scenes. It was in 1747 that the last person (80-year old Lord Lovatt) was beheaded–thank God for little mercies! The monument is a poignant reminder of the injustice that so many of them faced in their last few years (individuals such as Sir Thomas More, for instance, who died fighting for their beliefs, their faith and their ideals, as heroes not as cowards).

When one considers the circumstances in which they died, it is curious (and I do not see the humor) in a pub across the street that is named The Hung, Drawn and Quartered!–but this is British humor, I guess. This pub stands right opposite the Church of All Hallows By-The-Tower (where I attended a recent Sunday Eucharist service) from which Samuel Pepys, the famous diarist who recorded the details of the Great Fire of London of 1566, watched the city turn into a bonfire–a scene of great desolation. There is a bust to his memory in a small garden in Seething Lane opposite the church.

Just a few steps away is the churchyard of St. Olav’s with its eerie stone gate that has three skulls and crossbones adorning its pediment. Apparently, these were designed to keep body snatchers away for it was not unusual for thieves to dig up fresh bodies right after they had been buried–these were sold to hospitals that needed them for the instruction of their student doctors as part of anatomy lessons. Inside, I found St. Olav’s to be equally spooky and I took a quick tour of the place before dashing out again. Somehow, with all the ghostly tales that I am reading as part of these tours, I feel rather uneasy in spaces that have not another soul in sight. I do not want my own brush with any of London’s ghosts and spectres, if I can help it.

Past St. Olav’s, the tour took me to very narrow alleys and unlit lanes that must have been the breeding ground for thieves in the not-too-distant past. They were reminiscent of the novels of Dickens and it was only when I was back on the main thoroughfares that I felt comfortable again. Office-goers were hurrying homeward though it was only 4. 45 and I soon realized that with the newspapers reporting a strike by Tube staff starting this evening, they were eager to get home before they found themselves stranded.

I pressed on, however, arriving at the splendid entrance to Leadenhall Market, a truly magnificent piece of Victorian architecture. It is a trifle reminiscent of Borough Market and Spitalfields but its fresh coat of paint makes it seem somehow much more striking. Whether this face lift is owed to its use by Hollywood producers of the Harry Potter films or not, I do not know, but the location was the setting for the scenes in Diagon Alley and there is actually a shop front in vivid blue that was the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron pub in the film. I enjoyed pottering (if you will forgive the pun!) around the market and its many shops that appeared like cubby-holes in the wall.

Right past this antiquated building is another that stands in peculiar contrast to it–the building that houses Lloyd’s, the British insurance firm. Only its building is like an industrial factory what with its steel facade, its glass elevators that ply along the exterior and its pipes that run the length and breadth of the structure. It reminded me very much of the building that houses the Centre Georges Pompidour in Paris, the location of the city’s collection of Modern Art. As anyone who has been reading this blog regularly knows, this form of Modernism is not my cup of tea at all and I was glad to leave the premises, though I rather marvelled at its design.

That was when I arrived at a series of churches, one after the other, that stood in small patches of green studded with ancient grave stones. There was the Church of St. Peter Upon Cornhill and then the Church of St. Michael. I have, by now, seen so many churches on these walks, that I have pretty much entered and perused all of the work of Christopher Wren that exhibits his attempts to rebuild the main houses of Christian worship in the center of the city after the Great Fire.

By the time I arrived at Bank Underground Station, commuters looked deeply harried and I could see why. Trains had already stopped running and I abandoned my intentions of getting to the National Theater to try to exchange some tickets that I am currently holding. Instead I did the sensible thing and hopped into the first 25 bus I saw that got me safely back home where I spent the rest of the evening writing this blog, fixing and eating my dinner (Chicken Kiev with soup and toast with chocolate mousse for dessert), making transport inquiries online for my intended trip to Highgate and Hampstead tomorrow and reading some more Potter before I retired for the day.

Rubbing Shoulders with Ricky Gervais at the Chelsea Flower Show

May23
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Lyon-London

It was Genevieve who drove me to Lyon at 7. 45 for my 9. 45 am flight to Gatwick airport. When we were only about ten minutes from the airport, I remembered that I had left the charger of my camera at her place. Of course, it was much too late for us to turn back to pick it up but she did promise to mail it to off to me as soon as she returned home.

It was heart breaking to say goodbye to Amaury and Louis, and I was grateful that they managed to hold back their tears–though Louis did tell me in English in the car that he loved me and Amaury did give me a little cadeau (a going-away present) for my journey–a red candy lollipop heart–AWWWW!

All went well with my return to Gatwick though our departure was delayed by the fact that there was just one immigration officer for an entire planeload of passengers! Despite that hitch, the pilot made up for lost time as we crossed the English Channel and arrived at Gatwick airport. I had made a booking with the Easybus to take me to Fulham Broadway from Gatwick’s North Terminal. Since we had landed at the South Terminal, this involved taking a monorail train to the North Terminal, then rushing to the bus stand only to find that I would make my bus by the very skin of my teeth.

We left Gatwick at exactly 11 am, arrived at Fulham at 12 noon. It had been my intention to race off home on the Tube, leave my backpack at home, then take the Tube to get to Chelsea. I had, after all, in my possession, the hottest ticket in town–a ticket to the famed Chelsea Flower Show, which I had booked many months in advance. It had been a high priority item on my List of Things To-Do when I was in London and I had been thrilled to get a ticket for the very last day–even if this meant that I would have to return from France and rush off to the Show!

Adventures at The Chelsea Flower Show:
But, as happens so often at the weekends, there was some disturbance on the Tube lines and I had the worst time getting from Fulham to Holborn. Changing plans suddenly, I decided to go directly to Sloan Square and walk straight to the Flower Show, baggage and all. What a good thing I had the clairvoyance to carry my ticket with me to France!

All roads led to the Flower Show as I discovered when I got off at Sloan Square. It was a gorgeous spring day in London and I was blessed by perfect weather on which to see the best and most creative work of which British gardeners and horticulturists are capable. As I arrived at the Show grounds, I saw a large sign that said, “Chelsea Flower Show. Tickets All Sold Out”. Boy, did I feel privileged to have my ticket in my hand and to be able to participate in this great annual London event. Only ten minutes later, I was entering the Chelsea Hospital Grounds where the beloved Chelsea Flower Show is held annually and there I was looking for the Cloakroom so I could leave my bag and my coat behind. It was rather warm and I was relieved to get rid of the layers I had thrown on in France.

The Chelsea Flower Show is one of the most interesting experiences I have had in London thus far and certainly one of the Highlights of my Year. Being alone, I could go wherever I pleased but I was hard pressed to decide exactly where I should head as the show was spread over a massive area. It took me a while to figure out that there were loads, indeed scores, of dealers and businesses of every sort. Anything that was even remotely associated with the gardening industry in this country had a presence at this Show. I had arrived there at exactly 12. 45 and since the Show closed at 5.00pm that evening, I had about five hours in which to see everything. Never having visited this show previously, I had no idea how long it would take me to survey the exhibits and I decided, soon enough, that I would only look at the shops after I had seen the main attractions.

But first I needed a floor plan. That’s when I discovered that there was one, no many, to be had–but for a price! One of the most irritating things about Great Britain is that in addition to making you pay a small fortune for a ticket, you are also then expected to PAY for a program–this is as much true of theater shows as it is of exhibitions of this sort. Nothing comes free! I refused to part with 5 pounds for a hefty book that I would need to lug around in my hand for the rest of the afternoon when all I needed was a single page to help me navigate through the vast maze– so I passed on that treat! Call me cheap, but I decided instead to ask for directions to the main exhibits–the show gardens that I was keen to see–because I hoped to pick up some ideas for our own gardens at Holly Berry House.

This quest took me past some of the most aggressive salesmen in the industry to a large tent where talks and demonstrations were in progress. Since I was keen to have a little sit-down, I took my place in the tent at the start of a talk and demonstration by one of the UK’s most up-and-coming gardeners, one Robert Meyers, who that morning had won the People’s Choice Award for the Cancer Research Show Garden that he had created at the Show. He used slides to showcase his gardens on the Amalfi Coast and after a while, I thought it would make better sense to see the gardens themselves rather than to look at a bunch of slides.

So I left the tent and found myself in a large area surrounded by white tents that beckoned, one of which had a long queue snaking out of it. You know, of course, what they say about the English: When they see a queue, they join it! Well, I have to say that I did the same–maybe I have been living in England too long!!

I did not know exactly what lay inside this enticing tent but in about ten minutes I found out and how delighted I was! This was the tent that showcased the flower arrangements of a bunch of the country’s most astute hands. The arrangements made with fresh cut flowers towered around us on all sides. So many brides-to-be were taking pictures of the prize-winning exhibits and, of course, I sorely missed the use of my camera. Since I had no time to go home to download my Lyon pictures, I had no memory space left and could only treat myself to two or three pictures at most at the flower show.

It was not long before I realized that the show is overwhelming and that after a point your eyes take things in but you do not really ‘see’ them anymore–quite the way your mind behaves, for instance, in a museum. Oh, everything was spectacular and I certainly received my money’s worth in that one tent, but there was still SO much more to see!

But then I was hungry and I desperately needed to find lunch. I headed off in the direction of the Food Court and after checking out all my choices, I decided I would opt for a large baguette filled with gourmet sausages: I had a Roast Pork and Apple one and a Venison one and I have to say that they were both outstanding. Served with fresh tomatoes and an onion relish which was delicious (featuring caramelized onions), it made a very satisfying and very reasonably priced lunch in a place in which EVERYTHING was overpriced! Knowing this, apparently, a lot of people had the good sense to carry picnic lunches and they sprawled on the lawns wherever they could find a spot to land their behinds…and they they opened their sandwiches and their cakes, their strawberries and their cheeses, their quiches and their scotch eggs and how great a time they seemed to have as they munched and sipped thier Pimms.

But for the exhibits which were very reasonably priced and would begin to be sold off at 5 pm, I found the place just insanely expensive. I mean I would not mind walking out with a colossal bunch of stargazer lilies for ten pounds…but I had my backpack that I had to drag along and I had another errand to run at Marks and Spenser (lingerie that I had ordered last week) that needed to be picked up…so, of course, I had to pass up on the opportunity to purchase something memorable at the flower show.

I have to say that I completely enjoyed people-watching as I found a chair on which to eat my baguette and sausage lunch. Everyone was very suitably dressed for a warm summer’s afternoon in London. There was many a straw hat around, adorned with large bows and ribbons. There was a lot of quiet pearl jewelry and some showy silver pieces, but most folks wore very casual khaki pants and loose cotton blouses or tank tops. Yes, they made purchases as was obvious from the loads they were dragging along: a new support for their tomato plants; a new wire basket for their flower arrangements, a new ornament in copper for their gardens. What a joy it would have been for me to pick up something small if I hadn’t to think about carting it back to the States with me.

Then, I found the really large tent that was filled with every imaginable flower under the sun. As people ogled the vast arrangements of cut flowers in their deep baths of fresh cool water, they could choose their next lot of plants and flowers to place in their beds at home. Of course, being a lover of orchids I spent the longest time in the section devoted to these magnificent blooms and I did see some rather unusual grafted specimens in the most vivid colors. There was also the Rose Bower, so beautifully constructed, and so pleasingly perfumed. I did spend quite a long time there admiring the soft pink David Austin roses (my favorite kind) and was surprised to see that this was the only part of the flower tent that did not have any of the plants for sale. I wondered why!

It was while I was at the show gardens, the most popular part of the show, that I had my brush with celebrity–and I mean that literally. There I was looking at some unusual garden sculptures when I found myself rubbing shoulders with the person standing next to me. I turned around, said “I’m so sorry” and found myself looking straight at Ricky Gervais! Of course, for a few moments, I thought I was seeing things, but no, there he was, large as life, wearing a prominent pair of shades (as were most of the people at the show including myself as the sun was strong and the glare was annoying). So he couldn’t have been wearing them for anonymity. In fact, he smiled and moved quietly away and I realized that while he would not wish to be recognized, he wasn’t trying to walk around incognito. And yes, I soon realized that quite a lot of people recognized him too but they all respected his need for space and left him alone.

I did consider–and in all fairness I have to admit this–asking if I could take a picture with him because as everyone who knows me well knows that I am a huge fan, not so much of him as of the show–the BBC version of The Office which I have watched in the States on our local PBS channels long before the apology of the show which is the American version with Steve Carell (whom I rarely find funny) ever came into existence. But to actually see the writer and creator of the show standing right next to me, literally rubbing shoulders with me, was just too much!

Deciding that I had to behave myself, I did not request him to take a picture with me. However, I have to admit that I could not resist the temptation to take his picture, discreetly, so that he would not feel as if he were being hounded by the paparazzi. While he stood to admire some of the exhibits, I walked several feet away and took his picture as my brush with this comedian had simply made my evening!

Gervais walked around in a casual black hoodie with a casual pair of off-white Bermuda shorts and an outsize pair of sneakers. He has had a rather trendy haircut, the sort of layered kind that creates a distinct ridge at the back, and his hair was an unusual nut brown. He walked around very casually, not attempting to attract attention in the least. With him was a blond woman, equally casually dressed and not indicating any consciousness of her celebrity companion. She wore a black hoodie too and not a scrap of make up. Certainly it was clear to me that neither one of them wished to stop traffic–all they wanted to do was survey the exhibits just like any one of us. Occasionally, they exchanged a few words at a stall, then moved on. Yes, there were people who looked at them as they stopped to pet the black Labradors at one end of the open arena–were these guide dogs for the blind? I wasn’t sure. While they patted the dogs, a few people gaped at Gervais with wondrous smiles on their faces but he seemed oblivious to their attention and moved on.

I have to say that I was both greatly impressed by his composure as well as moved by his humility. Here is a man, one of the world’s most famous and most successful comedians, in the midst of one of the busiest exhibitions in the world (the show was fully sold out, by the way). And yet, he could go about his life just like any other human being. This is the kind of success that I believe all show biz folks most wish they could have–strong, satisfying careers in entertainment but the ability to live normal lives without being stalked by the public.

I spent the rest of the afternoon examining more of the show gardens and they were wonderful. Of course, for most of us, these will remain fantasies as we neither have the time, the money or the sweat equity to pour into the creation of gardens as lavish as these. But it was great fun to imagine myself in some of the more traditional gardens–the cottage garden kind. There was one red, white and blue garden, for instance, with which I fell completely in love. This was sponsored in part by The English Garden magazine as well as a couple of French companies and it featured the facade of a French cottage with Provence-blue shutters surrounded by a cottage garden with plants in the colors of the French flag. Set in front near the main door was a wrought iron table and two chairs with a porcelain tea service that strongly urged me to get out there and have a cuppa! Needless to say, this garden was mobbed by women who sighed all over it and took pictures back home that they will, no doubt, drool over all summer long.

Posing for a Picture with a Chelsea Pensioner:

Just when I thought I could not have had more fun, along came a Chelsea Pensioner. These are war veterans who have served their country well in military combat. The few I saw at the Show were decorated with impressive medals. They have reisdence rights in the quarters adjoining the Royal Chelsea Hospital and it is not unusual to see them hovering around in their uniform scarlet coats with their medals tinkling on their chests. The pensioner smiled at me and wanted to know where I was from. I smiled back and we spent a few minutes chatting together. Now while I had exercised enough restraint not to have requested a picture with Ricky Gervais, I was not going to stop myself from enjoying the rare privilege of being seen in the company of one of these venerable old men.

“Would you mind posing for a picture with me? I asked nervously.

“Not at all”, he responded. “Where would you like me to stand?”

“How about right here?” I said, selecting a small raised garden complete with stone sculpture and white Easter lilies.

And so I had my souvenir of my visit to the Chelsea Flower Show–one I will alway cherish.
By that point in the evening, it was 4 pm and I had seen the most significant of the exhibits, had rubbed shoulders with a celebrity, heard part of a lecture by a renowned landscape designer and had chatted with a military veteran. I was tired and the thought of getting home to relax was tempting. Leaving the activity of the Show behind me, I found a bus heading towards Marble Arch where I alighted. I went straight to Marks and Sparks, picked up my order and was back home on the Tube and in my flat not too long after.
On opening my door, I realized how much this flat has come to seem like home in the nine months that I have spent here. The blinds were down and the cool darkness into which I entered was very soothing indeed. Though I was drooping with fatigue, I could not relax as I had two more important things to do: I had to make two calls–to Llew and to my brother Roger, both of whom share a birthday on May 23! But, then I discovered, to my disappointment, that I had no calling credit left on my cell phone. I had no option but to trudge down to Sainsburys to buy myself a voucher so I could make those calls and so, off I went to the supermarket.
A few minutes later, I was back home and on the phone making trans-Atlantic calls to Roger holidaying in South Carolina with his son, and then to Llew, of course, who was in Southport expecting the arrival of Chris and Chriselle later that evening for dinner. Two lovely long chats later, I was ready to spend a while soaking in a scented bath…but I still had to unpackand do laundry. So with those tasks accomplished, I finally treated myself to a shower and a bite of dinner and a bit of TV.
Overall, I have to say that I had the afternoon of my life! The Chelsea Flower Show, an event which I had long anticipated with the greatest excitement, had been just marvelous and I can only say how grateful I am that I was able to see it despite my crazy travel schedule and everything else that I have tried to fit within this year.

Sunday Service at All Hallows by The Tower and NYU Farewell Luncheon

May17

Sunday, May 17, 2009
London

For almost two weeks now, I have been waking up at a decent hour–which is to say, after 7 am. I am delighted that I am finally sleeping enough but sorry as it is robbing me of precious and very productive time. I have hardly made any headway with The Order of the Phoenix and I had hoped to finish it before I left for France–which is tomorrow. Still, I suppose I can’t have everything.

Today, I awoke at 7. 30, proofread my blog, checked my email and discovered that it was 8. 30 before I knew it. I had half a mind to get dressed quickly and go to St. Etheldreda’s for the 9 am Mass, but then I remembered my resolution–to discover a new London church every Sunday. So, off I went to my bookshelf from where I plucked out The Churches of London by Sir John Betjeman and browsing through the ones that I thought sounded most interesting, I finally zeroed on the Church of All Hallows By the Tower. A quick check on their website informed me that they had Communion Service at 11 am on Sundays and after eating a cereal breakfast (I tried a new Waitrose cereal full of berries that I do not care for at all) and taking a shower, I left my flat at 10. 30, walked over to Fleet Street from where I hopped into a Number 15 bus and made my way towards the Tower of London.

Sunday Service in London’s Oldest Church:
All Hallows By The Tower is simply the oldest church in the City of London. Indeed, there has been a church on this site since the year 675 AD when it was founded by the Saxon Abbey of Barking. An original arch from that church still survives and is embedded with Roman tiles. A very helpful usher pointed these out to me at the end of the 11 am. service which I attended.

Being so close in proximity to the Tower of London, the church dealt with numerous beheaded bodies such as those of Sir Thomas More, John Fisher and Archbishop Laud. Thomas More is known to have preached from its pulpit.

The church survived the Great Fire of London in 1588 which started in Pudding Lane just a few hundred yards from the church. In fact, it was from its tower that Samuel Pepys viewed the extensive catastrophe wrought upon the city together with his friend Admiral Penn (the father of William Penn, founder of the American state of Pennsylvania) . William Penn was baptised in this church in the magnificent marble font that is crowned with a stunning wooden carving of two cherubs clinging to corn sheaves and branches of hops–which Betjeman describes as the most exquisite church carving in the city–no marks for guessing that it is the work of Grindling Gibbons which I am now able to recognize as easily as the back of my hand and which I have grown to love deeply.

John Quincy Adams, sixth President of the United States, was married in this church and the museum in the undercroft holds the original church register turned to the page on which the sacrament is recorded. He married Louisa Catherine Johnson on July 26, 1797. This museum is superbly maintained and just as I have been struck repeatedly in the past by the manner in which the British have preserved every last artifact that they have unearthed over the years, so too in this space, I marveled at their gigantic love for history and their determination to pass on their legacy to the coming generations.

Also rather remarkable about this church is the uncovering of a Roman floor distinguished by a mosaic that is fainty visible. Restoration work is due to start shortly on this section of floor that is approached through the museum entrance.

As with all the churches of London, this one too suffered extensive damage during the blitz which left only the outer walls intact. These are easily evident as they bear all the scars of age–they are grime ridden and blackened with time, but, as Chriselle pointed out, they are deeply moving because they proclaim their history so effortlessly. This cannot be said of the pillars that support the nave of the church that are far newer. In fact, it was through the efforts of Vicar “Tubby” Clayton who managed to bring American support and money to the reconstruction of the church, that it was rebuilt and declared open by the late Queen Mother in 1948. The lamp of the Toc H movement that he founded can be seen in the Lady Chapel together with his effigy and body that rest in the church. This church is also notable for the grand organ upon which the famous Bach recordings by Albert Schweitzer were made–a fact that might thrill lovers of classical music.

With all this history behind me you can imagine how delighted I was to take my seat in one of the front pews this morning only to find that the pad on which I would cushion by knees was embroidered with a great big yellow crown and with the words “ER II–Golden Jubilee 2002”! I wondered if this was the very kneeler that Her Majesty might have used during one of her visits to the church–but probably not. It was just embroidered by a parishioner to commemorate the occasion. Still, I was thrilled to be accidentally assigned such a hallowed kneeler.

Imagine my surprise when the preacher turned out to be a fellow-American, one Jim Rosenthal, whose sermon had all the ingredients that make these Anglican sermons a sheer pleasure to listen to. It was amusing, thought-provoking and, as always, superbly delivered, filled with topical cultural allusions such a references to the lyrics of John Lennon (“All You Need is Love”) and Andrew Lloyd-Webber( “Love Changes Everything”). The entire service was almost word for word identical to the Catholic masses which I usually attend except that it was far more absorbing and interesting.

After the service, there was coffee and biscuits and time to socialize and I am very pleased to say that the Vicar , a Frenchman named Bertrand Olivier and the Associate Priest, one Jennie Hogan, both sought me out, recognizing that I was a stranger, welcomed me warmly into their midst and invited me to come back again. It is these personal touches that are totally lacking in the Catholic churches and that have endeared me very much to Anglican practices in this country.

I left the church at 12. 45 and caught one of the old Routemaster buses to make my way back home. I switched to a 17 that then brought me right up to Fetter Lane. It is amazing how at this stage too, I am learning about bus connections and changes that can bring me closer and closer to my ultimate destination. Indeed I have become so adept at making my way around London that Chriselle was deeply impressed by the ease with which I hopped in and out of buses as I combed the city with her.

Off to NYU’s Farewell Faculty Luncheon:
Then, I changed into something more summery–a dress after a very long time indeed–and thrilled that the morning’s rain had become history and that the sun was out and warm and cheering, I caught a bus and left for Bedford Square Gardens where our NYU Faculty Farewell Luncheon started at 1 pm. I arrived there about 1. 45 to find a sprinkling of familiar faces and some whose names I actually know. As always, I gravitate towards folks I have met at past faculty meetings and with a glass of white wine in my hand, I started to circulate.

It was not long before Yvonne announced that lunch was served–a nice variety of finger foods and “things on sticks” as Hyacinth Bucket of Keeping Up Appearances would describe them and and I spent the rest of the afternoon nibbling away in the company of some of my new faculty friends. I simply could not believe that the year has passed so quickly–it seems only yesterday that the Director was welcoming us to a new academic year at an orientation dinner at the Radisson Edwardian Hotel on Great Russel Street! It is just madness, the way time seems to pass faster as we grow older and the more fun we allow ourselves!

At 5 pm, after we had plied ourselves with one more last glass of champagne, we did disperse and I made my way home, only to have to return again to hand deliver my grades as I had forgotten to carry them with me. Since I am leaving for Lyon, France, tomorrow morning and will not be back till next Saturday, I did need to hand in my grades before my departure for my trip. I felt awfully sorry to say goodbye to so many of my colleagues, but I take consolation in the fact that I will see some of them (especially the administrative staff) during the months of June and July when I shall continue to use my basement office as my research continues.

Finally, I have to say that I am so enjoying my new oak desk and am pleased to be able to watch the world go by outside my living room window where I have placed it. It is the perfect height for my laptop computer and allows me to catch glimpses of the passing of life outside. I see people disappearing down the stairwell leading to Chancery Lane Tube Station and emerging from it; I see red buses (both the bendy and the tall ones) pass me by; I see a camera right outside my window (one of those thousands now sprinkled all over the city–Big Brother is watching our every movement in this city and it is rather unnerving); I see the coffee shop (Cafe Nero) and the Salad Bar (Chop’d); and, of course, I see the black and white exposed beams of the Tudor Staple Inn Building with its red roof and its tall chimneys and I think to myself, “Ah, This is England!” No doubt, tomorrow, when weekday life returns to High Holborn, I will see much more of the daily frenzy that characterizes life among London’s busy legal community, even in these rather depressed days. And I am glad I went with my gut feeling or impulse or whatever you want to call it and bought his darling desk in a cobbled street in Hampstead that I have grown so quickly to love.

One light dinner later (Stilton and Broccoli Soup, Pasta with Tomatoes and Sainsbury Tiramisu), I was ready to call it a night–but not before I set my alarm for 6 am for my 7 am departure for Victoria Bus Station for my National Express ride to Stanstead airport.

Supertour at St. Paul’s Cathedral and Exploring Southwark

May13

Wednesday, May 15, 2009
London

London slumbered under leaden skies this morning, though, thankfully, the rain stayed at bay. Wearing warm cardigans to ward off the chill, Chriselle and I set off after a cereal and yogurt breakfast to explore St. Paul’s Cathedral. Though I have been there for several services throughout the past 8 months, I hadn’t taken a formal guided tour and was waiting to share that experience either with Llew or Chriselle. So I was very pleased indeed when my new English friend Bishop Michael Colclough, Canon-Pastor at St. Paul’s and his wife Cynthia, offered me a complimentary guided tour anytime I wanted one. With Chriselle currently visiting me, it seemed like the perfect time to take them up on it and we had one fixed for us for 10. 45 am.

We arrived at the Cathedral to find it swarming with visitors–both inside and out. Tour groups, several of whom comprised students from around London and across the Channel, filled the vast nave of the church. At the Visitor’s Desk, I was ushered to the one run by the Friends of St. Paul’s, an organization of Volunteers (mainly women), who are trained to give guided tours. This Supertour took us to parts of the Cathedral not usually open to the public and we felt privileged indeed to take it at our leisure in so special a fashion.

We were told by our guide, Fiona Walker, that it would last an hour and a half and were ushered right away to a side Chapel–dedicated to one of the many formal ‘Orders’ that comprise aristocratic English life. I do not believe that even a lifetime would be adequate in helping me acquire enough knowledge to decipher the complex system that prevails in military and royal circles int this country. What I did admired in this chapel was the royal seat that only the monarch can occupy, the marvelous wooden carvings by the Tudor carver Grindling Gibbons (whose work I can now easily recognize), the many colorful banners and standards and crests and coat of arms that symbolize one’s family history.

We then moved to the massive oak doors in the very front of the church and learned a bit of history at that point including the part played by Sir Christopher Wren in the design and construction of this, perhaps London’s most distinctive landmark. At the door, we also saw how dark the interior looked until the massive cleaning and renovation was carried out through a vast endowment (11 million pounds) granted to the cathedral by the Fleming family, the same one from which was born the James Bond author Ian!

Next we were led into one of the twin towers that looks down Fleet Street and we were quite taken by the beautiful staircase with its small and very low steps and the ironwork that climbs all the way to the very top. These steeples house the bells that toll each hour and produce the marvelous music on important days. I once heard them chime a heart stirring tune on Palm Sunday–was it last year? The entire city seemed to reverberate to the melody produced by those tolling bells. Yes, they do bring to mind John Donne’s stirring lines:

“No man is an island, entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” (Meditation XVII)

Interestingly, there is a rather strange looking sculpture of John Donne in the Cathedral–strange because the poet appears all shrouded in a linen sheet and standing on an urn. It was the only object in the entire Cathedral to escape the Great Fire of London in 1566 because it was hit by a falling object and fell straight down into the crypt from where it was rescued when the embers and ashes were being cleared. And he appears in this shroud because Donne had actually worn the garment in which he wished to be buried while he was still alive–perhaps to get the feeling of how he might appear before his Creator at his Resurrection!

Onward we went deeper into the Cathedral, passing by the grand monument to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and there we learned a bit more British history. Chriselle is beginning to “connect the dots” as she puts it, in that she is making connections between the guy who inhabited Apsley House and the hero of the Battle of Waterloo! It wasn’t long before we paused under the central dome to admire the Byzantine style mosaics done by Salviati, an Italian, whose work was inspired by the Italian churches. The dome also contains the magnificent paintings done by James Thornhill–yes, the same artist who painted the famous Painted Hall in Greenwich. Chriselle loved the trompe l’oeil quality of the paintings in the dome which appeared as if the inside was covered with columns and pillars. We saw primary school kids lying flat on the floor right under the dome and staring at it–I bet this is something they will always remember. Years from now, when they bring their own kids to the Cathedral they will say, “You know, when I was a little boy, I came to this church on a school field trip and lay down right there on my back and stared up at the dome!”

More detail and more history followed at the memorial to Lord Nelson, considered by many to be England’s greatest hero. The guide went into detail in talking about his relationship with Lady Emma Hamilton and the product of that alliance, a female child, “named”, she said, then paused for effect, “poor thing, Horatia!” Right opposite the Nelson monument is one to Cornwallis and I paused to tell Chriselle that he was the same one who met with a stunning defeat under General George Washington in York when trying to vanquish the rebel colonists in North America. It was probably as a punishment that he was sent off to India where he masterminded the defeat of Tipu Sultan of Mysore at Seringapatnam and, in doing so, somewhat redeemed his fallen image!

Then, we were at the altar, admiring more Grindling Gibbons’ caved choir stalls (each more breathtaking that the next, in oak and beech) and gazing upon the baldachino or altar canopy which looked to me curiously like the Bernini one in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. We saw also the ‘Cathedra’ or Seat which the Bishop occupies and which turns a church into a cathedral–it must contain a seat for a Bishop which means that a Bishop must be attached to the permanent clergy at the church.

And then we climbed down into the crypt where we saw more memorials, the most striking being the ones to Wren, Wellesley and Nelson in their striking sarcophagi. Nelson’s, in grand black granite, is particularly striking and I was not surprised to learn that it was, in fact, designed and created to hold the mortal remains of Cardinal Wolsley (pronounced ‘Wool-zy’) who was Henry VIII’s right hand man until he fell out of favor with the King for not bringing him the Papal annulment of his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. He was sentenced to death but, mercifully for him, died a natural death before he could be killed. He certainly was not permitted such a grand coffin and, in any case, the possessions of all state prisoners went directly to the Crown–which explains how Henry got his greedy hands on Wolsley’s finest buildings including Hampton Court and Whitehall Palace (of which now only the Banqueting House survives). The sarcophagus lay forgotten somewhere until the body of Nelson arrived from weeks of preservation in brandy–for Nelson really ought to have been given a burial at sea. However, since he was such an extraordinary hero, an exception was made in order to grant him a state burial. His body was preserved in alcohol, brought to London, this sarcophagus was resurrected for the occasion and the nation had a chance to mourn collectively for the death of a great hero who fell on the HMS Victory (now docked in Portsmouth) and whose blood-stained clothes are in the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

Climbing up to the Dome of St. Paul’s:
When the tour ended, we were told that we should not leave the cathedral without venturing up into the dome. I was doubtful about my ability to undertake such strenuous physical exercise since I am still recovering from plantar fascitis; but with encouragement from Chriselle, I rose to the challenge and off we went. 117 steps later, we were in the Whispering Gallery looking down on to the black and white checkered floors of the vast cavern below us. It was just stupendous! Of course, Chriselle and I had to try out the whispering capabilities of the acoustics of the space and discovered that we could, in fact, hear each other clearly though we stood on opposite sides of the dome. I was reminded very much of the interior of Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence and the magnificent painting on the inside of the dome by Vasari which one can see at very close quarters if you have the energy and stamina to climb the 500 odd steps to that height.

Then, another 115 steps took up to the Stone Gallery which encircles the outside of the dome and provides views of the rooftops of London. Yes, we saw the river (rather murky on this grey day) and the London Eye and the gilded statue of the Goddess of Justice atop Old Bailey and a host of other landmarks as well as the red brick of the Prudential Assurance Building that is just a block away from my building on High Holborn.

We circumnavigated our way around the dome then made the descent with Chrissie holding on to me all the way down as she felt a little dizzy. Then, because we were right in the area, I suggested a walking tour of the Southwark area instead of trying to get into a bus to Knightsbridge. Chrissie had made drinks and dinner plans with two friends of hers and wanted to get home for a bit of a rest as she has a severe backache when she exerts herself too much physically. I have to be grateful that my own stamina has remained untouched by plantar fascittis and but for the fact that I have to rest more than I used to, I can continue my daily walking routine without interruption.

Exploring Southwark:
So over Wobbly Bridge we went, the breeze feeling very unpleasant around us given the lack of sunshine. Past Shakespeare’s Globe we strolled, arriving under Southwark Bridge where we hastened to the Borough Market as I wanted Chriselle to get a sense of its delicious activity. Alas, it is not open fully on a Wednesday though a few stalls cater to the luncheon needs of the local working populace. We walked quickly on to The George, the city’s only galleried pub, where we took in the quaintness of the Elizabethan space. Then, we returned to Borough Market for a late lunch: a large helping of Thai Green Chicken and Seafood Curry served over steamed rice. It was dished up piping hot and was deliciously spicy and just what the doctor ordered on this rather chilly day.

Inside Southwark Cathedral:
On our way back to the Embankment, we paid a short visit to Southwark Cathedral that dates from 909 AD–in particular to visit the sculpture of Shakespeare and the lovely stained glass window right above it that provides glimpses into his most famous plays. This allowed us to play a little guessing game together before Chriselle made her three wishes–you are permitted three wishes every time you visit a church for the first time (at least that is what my mother told us, many years ago).

We also took in the brightly painted medieval memorial to John Gower and saw the lovely stone carved altar with some gilding on a couple of its statues. This had been under scaffolding when I had visited last March with my friend Amy, so it is great to see the impact that all this refurbishment has on the space. While we were taking pictures at the Shakespeare memorial, a lady came up and told us that there is a charge for taking pictures!!!Can you imagine that? We told her that we were unaware of the policy and she said that we’d have to pay if we took another. Of course, we had finished our visit by that point and were on our way out–but I have to say that I find these rather materialistic policies of these churches not just irritating but rather offensive.

Off to the Tate Modern:
Then, we were walking along the Thames Embankment again, making our way to the Tate Modern where I wanted to show Chrissie two things: the extraordinarily concept that converted the Hydroelectric Power plant into a Modern Art Gallery and the silver installation by Cornelia Parker entitled Thirty Pieces of Silver. She was already far more tired than I was and since modern art is not something that either one of us can truly engage with (though I understand it intellectually), we went directly to the Parker gallery to admire her work. It involved the flattening of about 1000 pieces of silverware under a steam roller. These were then arranged in thirty lots that are suspended from the ceiling on steel wire. The idea is so remarkable that it is worthy of examination for just this reason. Needless to say, Chriselle was quite speechless and didn’t quite know how to react to this…but then that is exactly what Modern Art does to me. I find myself quite lost for words!

We decided to get on the bus and head home as Chriselle badly wanted to rest. I, however, continued on towards Oxford Circus as Marks and Spencer is having a sale on lingerie and I needed to buy my stock before I return to the States. I discovered that my size was not available but if I carried on to their Marble Arch branch, they could take an order from me there. I pressed on, and another bus ride later, I was at the bigger branch placing my order and told to return after May 22 to pick it up. I will be in France at that time but on the day I get back, I can rush off back to Marble Arch to get the discounted price. Along the way, I discovered that Selfridges has been renovated and is now devoid of the scaffolding under which it was shrouded for so many months while it received a deep cleansing in time for its centenary celebrations. There are lights and yellow decorations all over it and I believe the store is worthy of a visit–so I shall try to get there when I find myself under less pressure.

Another bus took me to my office at NYU where I had to do a bit of photocopying before I send off some receipts to New York for reimbursement.

Back home, I found that Chriselle had left the house to meet her friends. This left me time to attend to my email, have my dinner and sit down to write this blog before I got down to grading a few papers and taking a shower before bed.

London Pass with Chriselle–Day Three

May10

Sunday, May 10, 2009
London

Both Chriselle and I awoke around 7 am today having had difficulty dropping off to sleep. Still rather jetlagged, she was groggy in the morning. Knowing, however, that I did want to catch the 8 am. Communion Service at Westminster Abbey, she was quick on the uptake and within a half hour, we left my flat for the short walk to Fleet Street from where we took Bus 15 to Westminster Abbey while the rest of the city was still sound asleep.

Communion Service at Westminster Abbey:
The service was quick, quiet and rather sparsely attended. What made it special, however, was not just the female celebrant (a rather unusual sight for Chriselle though something I have become accustomed to in England) but the fact that the church was just splendidly decorated with flowers in breathtaking vignettes, each of which depicted a creative theme. We discovered, at the very end, from the female vicar, that it was the result of the work of the members of the National Association of Flower Arrangers who come in once a year to transform the Abbey entirely. At any rate, it made a magnificent backdrop for Chriselle’s first church service in the UK and I was glad she had a chance to see this sight.

A Visit to Westminster Cathedral:
Then, because we were so close to it, I suggested we make a visit to Westminster Cathedral, the Catholic church down the road whose Byzantine style architecture, both inside and out, make it quite stunning indeed. Mass was almost ending when we walked in, which allowed us a few minutes to pray quietly for my mother (since it is Mother’s Day today in the USA). Chriselle did think the church was special and completely different in style and structure from the Gothic Westminster Abbey from which we had just emerged. It is becoming increasingly astounding to her, as we traverse the city, how brilliant is the architecture of each structure we pass and she said to me, just this morning, “Mum, I see what you mean. Every time we round a corner, my eyes feast upon yet another striking building that I feel compelled to explore”. I think she is slowly beginning to understand why I have always nursed such a passion for this city.

A quick visit to Starbucks saw us emerge with mocha lattes that were superb in our empty stomachs until I made an idiot of myself by dropping a large quantity of it all the way down my grey cashmere cardigan while in the bus on the way home. Fortunately, we were only a few meters from home and I was able to rush to my sink and get the worst of it off within minutes.

It was during breakfast that Chriselle wished me a Happy Mother’s Day and presented me with a truly beautiful card whose words were deeply moving primarily because it seemed as if she had written the printed words in them herself. Ever since she has been a young teenager, Chriselle has managed to find me cards that have seemed deeply relevant to that special phase in my life and this year, with me spending so much time away from her in London, the words in the card reflected perfectly well her feelings at being so distant from me. It was a poignant moment indeed and I was close to tears–both at the depth of her feelings and her candid and very lovely expression of them. I thank God for her and bless her and feel profoundly enriched by her presence in my life, especially since I have spent most of the last year on my own. Indeed, if I was delighted to have Llew with me at Easter, I thought it was superbly significant that I had Chriselle with me on Mother’s Day and I felt as if a very special Providence had brought us together at this time.

The Tower of London:
With breakfast done (toasted rolls with Boursin cheese and coffee), we set out on our adventures for the day, heading again to Fleet Street to catch a bus to the Tower of London. To our great good luck, one of those lovely old Routemasters came trundling along, allowing us to climb to the upper deck on those old-fashioned spiral steps (as in the Bombay buses) and take our seats in the front. It was not long before we got off at the Tower, but not before I pointed out to her the remains of the old Roman Wall of what was called Londinium.

The lines at the Tower were daunting but we were relieved to discover that London Pass holders could go directly to the entrance where we joined one of the Beefeaters (Yeoman Guards) on a guided tour of the main attractions of the vast complex that comprises the Tower. As usual, we were informed and entertained by these well-trained folks who took us through some of the most important and grizzly parts of British History as we moved from one courtyard to the next. Highlights, of course, include Traitor’s Gate (through which so many political prisoners accused of treason were led to the Tower), The Tudor courtyard in which the ravens with trimmed wings are plentiful (folklore has it that when the ravens have all flown away, the White Tower will collapse), and the block upon which so many historical figures including Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey were executed.

When I had last visited the Tower, 22 years ago, the original wooden block had remained in position evoking an eerie sense of the gruesome executions that had taken place upon the spot. On this visit, we found a sculpture by Brian Catling with a lovely few lines engraved all around a glass disc that said:

Gentle visitor, pause awhile
Where you stand
Death cut away the light of many days
Here jewelled names were broken
From the vivid thread of life
May they rest in peace while we walk the generations
Around their strife and courage
Under these restless skies.

A rather lovely way, really, of remembering those personnages from history who, in most cases, met an unjust death.

It was time then, for us to join the eager hordes queuing up at the entrance to the Tower that contains the Crown Jewels. Walking through the many rooms that took us deep into the chamber with its steel reinforced doors where the most precious Jewels are kept, we saw three short films, all of which depicted the occasions upon which the jewelled signs and symbols of the British monarchy were used. Everyone gasps, of course, when they see the Cullinan Diamond in the sceptre and the Koh-i-noor diamond in the crown of the late Queen Mother. But there are emeralds and rubies and sapphires the size of small eggs that are just as stunning and in beholding the magnificent workmanship of these items, we felt as if we had received our money’s worth.

A visit to the Princes Tower showed us more crowns and scepters and maces and trumpets and all such other items associated with the coronation of England’s monarchs. Chriselle,whose knowledge of British history, is rather hazy, is slowly beginning to put them in chronological order as she discovers bits and pieces of their colorful lives. It is a great deal to drink in at one go but she is slowly processing it all and asking me a lot of very relevant questions.

The last thing we needed to see at the Tower was the White Tower itself, one of the oldest parts of the building which is currently playing host to a special exhibit on Henry VIII rather appropriately entitled Dressed to Kill. We saw a large amount of contemporary armor but I was disappointed as I had hoped to see some of his courtly robes–none of which have survived, I suppose. Still, over all, we saw a variety of items in the Tower that could easily have allowed us to spend the entire day there if we had done the tours at leisure.

The Tower Bridge and Exhibition:
A call home to my mother in Bombay to wish her for Mother’s Day punctuated our day after which we sat on a bench eating our lunch time sandwiches as we were starving again. Then, having rested our rather aching feet, we set out in search of the City Cruises Pier to catch the next ferry to Greenwich. When we discovered that the next one was due to leave 45 minutes later, it was Chriselle who suggested we use the time to walk over Tower Bridge.

The London Pass allowed us to enter the Tower Bridge Exhibition and we then treated ourselves to the next half hour learning about the ingenious engineering that went into its design for the Bridge needed to satisfy the sense of aesthetics of the Victorian cohort that was involved in granting the commission for its construction as well as the ability to sustain human and vehicular traffic while opening up to allow for the passage of tall ships. A tall order indeed!

When construction began, teams of divers dug into the soft clay that is the base of the River Thames and the construction of the two posts began. Two short films that we saw before and after crossing the east and west walkways, 142 feet over the river, introduced us to the intricacy of design and scientific precision that allowed for its construction as well as the creation of the mechanism of the drawbridge. From the walkways, we had views of the city stretching all the way down the curving Thames to the glass and concrete skyscrapers of Canary Wharf and the O2 stadium at Greenwich as well a the domes of Sir Christopher Wren’s National Maritime College. It was truly a marvelous tour and we are so glad we found the time to take it. The tour also included a visit to the Engine Room but we were worn out and needed to make our way to the boat in order not to miss the next sailing.

Thames Cruise to Greenwich:
We did not have the best guide on our way to Greenwich. I have taken this cruise before (in September with my students) when I had found the commentary quite compelling. Still, Chriselle who listened carefully, laughed a great deal at his jokes and found him amusing. What made the cruise special for me was the incredible weather–indeed we could not have asked for a better day to mess around on a river! The last time I had taken this cruise it was cold and rainy and miserable and today, it was spectacular. We bought ourselves a cold beer on board and split the bottle as we enjoyed the sail and when the domes of Greenwich came into view, we made our way down to the pier to be able to get off as quickly as possible.

Our first stop was the National Maritime College which allowed Chriselle to take in the grandeur of Wren’s architecture and notice his indebtedness to the classical structures of Greece and Rome. In this space, I made sure she saw The superb Painted Hall by Thornhill where the frescoed ceiling and walls are supposed to be second only to the work of Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. Right opposite is the Chapel where the plasterwork on the ceiling is so stupendous that it is reminiscent of the Jasperware produced by Josiah Wedgwood in his factories at Stoke-on-Trent. Chriselle loved every bit of these buildings and took a number of pictures. By this point, however, she was feeling rather beat having been on the go for three whole days and not quite having recovered from jetlag.

The Royal Observatory and the Prime Meridian:
Still, she decided that we should bravely press on and pass the Queen’s Palace in front of the Park where the Royal Observatory is located. We were struck by the tourist crowds everywhere though a lot seemed like local folks enjoying a Sunday in the Park with their Kids! At the Royal Observatory, we made a bee-line for the Prime Meridian and had to take some funky pictures which standing astride it with our feet in alternate hemispheres. We decided to skip a look at the vast variety of clocks that were on display here and take a breather instead in the park were we spent a long while resting and relaxing and massaging our aching muscles while watching picnicers enjoying their strawberries and cream, their pasta salads and chilled beer.

When we felt ready for the next bout of walking, we set out again–this time we nipped into the National Maritime Museum as I did want Chriselle to have a look at the uniform of Lord Nelson which became bloodstained at the Battle of Trafalgar where he was wounded and passed away. Having seen this exhibit, as well as Lord Frederic’s gilded barge, we made our way outside and basked again in the golden sunrays.

At the pier, Chriselle had a horrid experience having stopped to sample some spreads and condiments from a market stall. She picked up what she thought was a sun-dried tomato only to discover that it was a pickled jalapeno pepper that had her hyperventilating though she spat it out almost as soon as she popped it into her mouth. The fortunate part was she had asked me only a second before if I wanted to share it with her and I had declined! What a good job I did! The next thing I know I was plying her with chocolate that I found in my bag and ten agonizing minutes later, she returned to normal!

We took the stairs then that led us to the Greenwich Tunnel, passageway that runs under the River Thames, another remarkable feat of late Victorian engineering (built in 1902) that I wanted her to experience. Over on the other side, after a short ten minute walk, we took the elevator up hoping to catch the Docklands Light Railway to Green Park where we had Afternoon Tea reservations at The Wolsley Hotel–we thought it significant that since it was Mother’s Day, we could have Tea together in this grand place.

Only by this stage, Chriselle felt seriously out-of-sorts and we decided we would perhaps abandon our plans. What finally nixed it for us was the dislocation of the rail network that closed the DLR down, put us on the Tube (Jubilee Line) at Canary Wharf where we discovered that we could only go as far as London Bridge and, what was worse, the Piccadilly Line wasn’t running either. That was it!

Dinner with Tim and Barbara:
We got off at King’s Cross and took Bus 45 and got back home where Chriselle crawled straight into bed and went off to sleep. Two hours later, after I had dealt with my email and tried to reschedule my visit to Paris, we dressed and went over next door to my neighbors’ flat. Chriselle was keen to meet Tim and Barbara about whom she has heard so much–both from me and Llew! In keeping with his reputation for hospitality and generosity, Tim opened a bottle of Harrod’s bubbly and passed around grilled and marinaded artichoke hearts–delicious! It wasn’t long before we were invited to stay for dinner–pepperoni pizza and steamed asparagus, the latter impeccably seasoned with lemon juice and sprinkled with grated parmesan. It went down a treat. With chocolate cheesecake, Tim’s own homemade strawberry sorbet and fresh strawberries, we had a truly fine meal and the company of two of the most interesting friends I have made in London. As always, Tim and Barbara entertained us with their jokes and stories and it was with difficulty that we tore ourselves away from their flat and called an end to the evening.

We promise ourselves a less strenuous day tomorrow but are pleased that we made the best possible use of our London Passes–something that we would recommend without hesitation to anyone planning a visit to London for the first time.

London Pass with Chriselle–Day One

May8

Friday, May 8, 2009
London

Chriselle’s main concern was getting her laptop up and running to enable her to work for a few hours in the evenings. When I was unable to connect her to my wireless network, I asked Tim next door to help. He kindly came in at about 9am and got her sorted and with that, the great weight lifted off her mind and she was able to turn her attention to breakfast (toast with marmalade and tea–as she has a marked fondness for tea) before she showered and we were able to get out of my flat by 9.45 to begin our London sightseeing.

The day dawned gray and drizzly. Disappointed, we dressed appropriately and, armed with our brollies, prepared for a wet and breezy day. Good job our first stop was The Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace where I was keen to see those special treasures that her Majesty holds for the nation in her sanctum sanctorum. Chriselle had decided to gamely so along with my plans for the next 3 days as she has the next week to explore London according to her special likes.

The Queen’s Gallery:
Since we both have the 3-day London Pass and 3-day Travelcards, I have chosen sites that I have not yet paid to see–in a attempt to make fullest use of the passes. The Queen’s Gallery maintains a timed entry (allowing just a few visitors to peruse the collection at any given time). We were lucky to be admitted in immediately (at this time of year, that is not unusual, I believe) but were disappointed to hear that the Royal Mews is closed on Fridays. We might not be able to see the collection of carriages that are part of the pomp and pageantry of British royal life.

After going through security (every art gallery and basilica is beginning to feel like an airport these days), we passed through a massive set of doors and faced a really beautiful stairway whose balustrade was adorned with skillfully gilded metal tassels. Once we arrived at the landings, we were given audio guides and ushered through another set of doors that led us to the two large rooms that comprise the Gallery. Paintings and objects d’art (mainly in the form of ornate cabinets) change periodically as do the special exhibits. Like the Queen, who is a famed collector, I have a great fondness for painted porcelain, especially the kind made in the Sevres factory outside Paris in France. So I was disappointed to discover that the gallery is in a state of transition at the moment for a special exhibit on these works which will start later this month.

However, the works we did see in two rooms were truly impressive and made the visit worthwhile. Of special note, were a number of scenes of Venice by Canaletto, four gigantic works by Peter Paul Reubens (mainly collected by Charles I and later Queen Victoria), a few portraits of Charles I and his wife Henrietta Maria painted by his court painter Anthony Van Dyke, a really beautiful portrait of Queen Victoria as a little girl by her drawing tutor (whose name I wish I could remember) and–this was the highlight of the visit for us–a number of jewel-studded items gifted to the royal family and The East India Company by India’s erstwhile Maharajas during the days of the Raj. I was pleased to note that most of them were gifts and not ‘plunder’ to which the British Raj fancied itself entitled. Even so, the size of the emeralds in a pearl-studded belt had to be seen to to be believed and the pair of diamond drop ear-rings and matching brooch that were gifted to the late Queen Mother were another stunning aspect of the items on display.

The Changing of the Guard:
Since the collection was rather small (even though very significant), we were still able to catch part of the ceremony of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace where, we found that, mercifully, it had stopped raining and we were actually able to see some activity in the the large court yard. Indeed, by the time we crossed the street in front of the sculpture of Queen Victoria, the sun made an appearance and we were able to get pictures with blue skies in them! It made Chriselle remark that if you don’t like the weather in London, you can wait for five minutes–it really was a quick-change artist!

Down The Mall we walked, still feeling jaunty and full of energy, past the back of St. James’ Palace. Needless to say, I kept up a running commentary as I pointed out the sights to her, amazed myself at how much I now know about London. Crossing The Mall, we entered St. James’ Park (at which point we received a call from Llew on my cell phone–which, miraculously, I heard–just getting ready to start work in the States) and since, for some inexplicable reason, both of us were already starving, we found a bench overlooking the duck pond (where we were instructed not to feed the “wild fowl”–a term that would never have been used in the States), we ate the sandwiches I had prepared at home before setting out.

I have to be rather creative with meals, as Chriselle is a vegetarian. I, therefore, threw in everything I could find in my fridge–which this morning comprised, multi grain bread with mayonnaise, parmesan cheese and a pear (that I sliced and drizzled over with balsamic vinegar). Even I was surprised what a delicious sandwich this made. With our feet well rested, we started off again.

The Horse Guards and the Banqueting House:
Our next destination was the Banqueting House (as I was keen for Chriselle to see Peter Paul Reubens’ ceiling as commissioned by Charles I in memory of his father James I who is the main character in the centerpiece medallion). This meant that she had the opportunity to pass by the Horse Guards and click pictures with them–a matter that called to mind much earlier visits to the city when she was just nine-years old, in the company of my brother Roger.

The short film we saw on the ground floor of the Banqueting House introduced her to the history of the place. I, of course, had just seen the film two weeks ago, when my friend Loreen was visiting from Connecticut. And I realize again how little this building is visited and how important it is–architecturally (it is the work of Inigo Jones who revolutionalized English architecture after his return from Italy where he was influenced by Andrea Palladio), historically (it was from this building that Charles I was led to his execution) and artistically (it is the only building in the world that has Reubens’ ceiling paintings in situ. Chriselle gasped when she saw the ceiling for the first time after we had climbed to the first floor and was entirely engrossed in the commentary that we heard on audio wands. It was interesting to note the items that she wanted to photograph and, in a way, it was fun to see these places through her fresh and fascinated eyes.
The Churchill Museum, the Cabinet War Rooms and the England at War Exhibition:
Our next stop was the St. James’ Park end of Whitehall where I had been waiting for Chriselle’s arrival to visit the underground Cabinet War Rooms–this, I believed, would be the highlight of our day. And I was not disappointed. It was my student Kristen who, last semester, had told me how incredibly fascinating it had been to her and how I must not miss this attraction. Having never seen these rooms before, I did not intend to leave London without visiting them. I was glad that Chriselle was as enthusiastic as I was and, before long, we found ourselves underground in the world of the 1940’s that somehow brought to my mind the setting and ethos of the British detective series Foyle’s War.

The first room that greets visitors is the one used throughout the war by the Cabinet War Committee among whom the names of Churchill and Clement Atlee were the only ones familiar to me (Atlee succeeded Churchill as Prime Minister after the War and presided over the transfer of power at the time of the Independence of India). I had goosebumps while looking at the wooden swivel chair that Churchill used in the middle of this gathering. Everything has been left exactly as it was on the last day the room was used and it was strangely evocative of the inter-continental intrigues of that epoch.

The rest of the warren of underground rooms showed us the quarters of the many chiefs of staff and their administrative assistants–all of whom had cramped rooms, furnished in a utilitarian fashion with banker’s lamps in each room, maps on the wall–many still tracing the progress of important mid-century military campaigns–and even the room used by Mrs. Churchill–which, in a single seater sofa, was the only piece of furniture with a floral print! It stood out oddly in that stark environment. Also interesting was a copy of Picture Post of that era with a rather rare feature inside depicting the First Lady in her domestic milieu inside 10 Downing Street–a sort of early version of People or Hello magazine!

It was interesting to see Churchill’s engagement book that contained signatures of George VI and the current Queen entered in 1942 (long before she became Queen) and it occurred to me afresh (a fact that the film The Queen had brought to my attention) how many Prime Ministers have served during her reign! What a history of the century she encompasses within her own 80 years!

What was also interesting to me (if somewhat annoying) is the knowledge that while the rest of the country (indeed the rest of Europe) staggered under severe rationing laws, “making do” for years on end, Churchill wined and dined like a king, his daily menus comprising several courses including Beef Wellington and gallons of rich port wine and expensive bubbly! Ah, the privileges of the powerful.

Another really amazing aspect of this exhibit is a trans-Atlantic telephonic conversation that we could listen in to between President Truman of the US and Churchill discussing the progress of Himmler across Europe and the strategy designed to stop him. The accents, the diction, the style of expression, the odd formality that existed between these two so-called ‘close friends’ was antiquated and, therefore, deeply amusing, but it gave me goose flesh again to actually hear their voices and listen carefully to the stress and concern contained within them. (“No,no,no,no,no,no,no, we can’t do that. Especially when it is Himmler we’re talking about”). This is easily a place in which one could spend a whole day and I am not surprised that Kristen found it so compelling. I am so glad I finally saw the circumstances in which the fate of Europe and the world was decided and I am so gratified that these rooms have been preserved in this fantastic manner (thanks largely to the Imperial War Museum) as a gift to future generations.

Jewel Tower:
Since we were doing really well for time and the weather had suddenly turned so appealing, we decided to walk towards Parliament Square and see Jewel Tower which is run by the English Heritage and is open to London Pass holders. Llew and I had taken a self-guided walking tour entitled “Royal London” that had once guided us past this rather squat tower opposite the Houses of Parliament–but since we hadn’t climbed it then, it made sense for us to ‘cover’ it on this outing.

Passing by the exterior of the Houses of Parliament, I pointed out to Chriselle the Visitor Entrance to the sessions in both Houses and suggested that she return next week to sit in on one of them. The friendly copper outside informed us that the next sittings of both Houses will be on Monday and Tuesday from 2. 30 till 10 pm and Chriselle decided to return on Tuesday. I was also able to point out to her the “Sovereign’s Entrance” at the side which rather tickled me because while the rest of the world has the right to walk into Parliament and overhear the debates, the reigning monarch does not–he/she must knock on the ceremonial doors and request permission to enter–a custom that harks back to the days of the Magna Carta when the sovereign interfered too much in the running of Parliament–I know that I am putting this rather simplistically and there is a more complicated piece of history here that is worthy of recounting and I must look it up online.

The Jewel Tower itself is named for the fact that the Tower which was constructed in the reign of Edward III (mid 1200s) housed the royal wardrobe, part of which included the jewel- encrusted crown. 44 steps take visitors to the top along a winding spiral stone stairway that was reminiscent to me of Delhi’s Qutub Minar (at a time when visitors could climb all the way to the top, as a little girl, I had been way up there) and to Chriselle of the fairy tales she had read as a child–chiefly Rapunzel! The small exhibit upstairs was not noteworthy and after we took in the views of busy Parliament Square below us, we descended.

The Cavalry Guards Museum:
Chriselle did not need to get home until 5 pm when she needed to log on and connect with her New York team to get some work done. This, we realized, left us enough time to see the Cavalry Guards Museum which is also included in the London Pass and which faces the Horse Guards Parade. This rather small exhibit showed us the livery used by man and horse and the role played by these ceremonial guards with whom the public has posed for decades. It is the plumes, the swords, indeed the regalia, that give British royalty so much of an aura. The stables in which the horses are well looked after (we actually saw two rather quiet ones taking their rest) are also on exhibit and we could walk past the stalls and take all these sights in. Because these spaces are rather compact, however, they did not take too long to peruse and we were out rather sooner than we expected.

By Tube to Apsley House:
With time still on our side (it was only a little past 3.00 pm), we decided to take the Tube to Hyde Park Corner to see Apsley House (which I had toured a few years ago but which I was keen for Chriselle to see). This stately mansion with its beige facade dominates the circle around Wellington’s Arch and has always been one of my favorite London manors. It was gifted by a grateful nation to Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington (whose much less-liked and less-popular brother Richard had been the Governor-General of India) upon his victory at the Battle of Waterloo that ended the dynamic campaigns of France’s Napoleon across Europe. Since it was situated at the very point of entry into the city, it’s address was simply No 1 London–an address it still retains!

Inside, the visitor is given an audio guide which allowed us to negotiate our way through rooms that were crammed with paintings and sculpture beginning with the towering one of Napoleon by Antonio Canova in the landing on the ground floor that leads up to the marvelous Robert Adams’ designed stairway. The floor had to be reinforced with a supportive pillar beneath it to take the massive weight of this marble sculpture that presents a young and very athletic Napoleon in Roman guise complete with spear in his hand and sandals on his feet. It is an immensely striking sculpture and one whose image has stayed with me from my last visit to this room.

Wellesley was a master general (some would say the best England has ever had) with a gifted aesthetic side to his personality and he amassed a multitude of paintings, many so significant that the Long Gallery contains works by Old Masters that would make the National Gallery envious! There were Carravaggios and Canalettos from Italy, Jose Riberas, Velasquezes and Murillos from Spain, Jan Steens, Peter de Hoochs and Breugels the Elder from among the Flemish cohort and indeed a number of English artists including Van Dyke –all of which would take another age to see in detail. For me, the highlight of this mansion is the sterling silver centerpiece on the Dining Table that runs along its entire length–a gift from Portugal to Wellesley as the defeat of Napoleon had been a joint venture between England, Spain and Portugal. We enjoyed our visit here very much indeed and though Chriselle was concerned about the time and ensured we left there by 4. 30, she had a very pleasant visit indeed.

Back on the Tube, I showed her how to use it (so that she can find her way around the city on her own once I leave for Paris and find her way back to my building on the Central Line). Though I was quite wiped out by the time I reached home, she logged on to her computer, while I set off for Bedford Square to pick up the sheaf of papers that my students have left for me to grade as their semester winds down and final exams begin next week. It is a profoundly busy and stressful time for them and as my grading work begins, I am still trying to fit in as much time with Chriselle as possible.

Duet for One at the West End:
Back from campus, I managed a very short nap as both of us would be going out again for the evening. I had booked us tickets to see Juliet Stevenson and Henry Goodman in Tom Kempinski’s Duet for One at the Vaudeville Theater and when we got there by Tube at 7. 30, we were just in time for a performance that swept us off our feet with its histrionic virtuosity, masterful direction and excellent script.

Indeed it was a marvelous night at the theater. Though Stevenson’s role as Keira Knightley’s mother in Bend It like Beckham had first brought her to our attention, it was in this play where she played a violinist afflicted by multiple sclerosis and battling the ghosts of her past, that we realized how gifted an actor she is and how wide is her range. Indeed, she was superbly supported by Goodman who, in a much quieter portrayal as her therapist, also had his occasional outbursts that brought vitality to his role. Indeed, we could not have had a more memorable night in a London theater.

A Night Out on the Town for Chriselle:
Throughout the evening, Chriselle had been on my cell phone with her friend Rahul whom she had once known as a child in Bombay. He moved to London to work for a hedge fund and she was renewing contact with him after years. He invited her to spend the evening out with his friends and taking the bus to St. Paul’s from The Strand, I dropped Chriselle into his hands and took the bus back home as I was seriously pooped and couldn’t wait to hit my bed.

She woke me up at 3 am to tell me that despite the fact that I had given her a key, the magnetic tag would not open the door of our building downstairs. I dressed quickly and went down to open the door for her and at 3. 15, we were both back in bed again at the end of what had been an astonishing day for her in every possible respect.

‘Brief Encounter’ Gresham Lecture and More Jubilee Walk

May6

Wednesday, May 6, 2009
London

Phew! What a busy (and very productive) day I had! I am trying so hard to get as much work out of the way before Chriselle arrives tomorrow so that I can devote all our time together exclusively to her. I read about 25 pages of The Order of the Phoenix in bed as soon as I awoke at 6. 15 am, then checked and responded to overseas email (a lot of mail has arrived from India even before I am awake and a great deal comes in from the States towards the end of my London day) before I washed and ate my breakfast while watching Breakfast on BBC!

At 8.00 am, I transcribed my interview with Florence Daly, then revised my chapter for the new anthology on The Anglo-Indian Woman which, I have just heard from the publisher Blair Williams, is to be co-edited by my friend Margaret Deefholts and her daughter Susan. And a better editor than Margaret it would be hard to find, so I hope Blair knows how fortunate he is that she has agreed to take on this monumental task–because only a writer knows how much work an editor has to put into getting an anthology out!

When that was done, I graded a bunch of papers on ‘Issues in Contemporary British Politics and Culture’ and truly enjoyed reading my student’s responses to a lot of the topics to which they’ve been introduced during their year in London. By then it was almost noon–time for me to stop for a shower, a light lunch (pizza and cheesecake–OK, not so light!) and then I left for Gresham College to attend another free lecture.

This one by Roger Parker, Gresham Professor of Music, was on the film Brief Encounter and the recurring role played in it by Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto Number 2. Now I had seen this movie only a couple of months ago and had found it charming but awfully dated. I was curious to see what Parker had to say and in the few extracts he showed from the film and his very enlightening commentary, I learned to ‘look’ in a rather different way at the film–through the eyes (and ears) of a musicologist. I found him a very engaging speaker indeed with a delightful sense of humor to boot and I was sorry to hear that this was his last lecture for the season because he seems to be a much-loved member of the lecturing cohort. Darn! I so wish I had gotten to know about these lectures earlier.

It wasn’t long before I caught the 341 bus from Gray’s Inn that took me to Fleet Street from where I hopped into the Number 15 and off I sailed to the Tower of London to resume the Jubilee Walk. To my good fortune, it was one of those old Routemaster buses which, when I get to ride in them, I always consider an unexpected bonus. It was going to be Part 4 for me and I felt curiously energetic.

The Jubilee Walk Part 4:
This bit took me through a part of London I had never seen before–the East. It is the very heart of London’s Financial District (its Wall Street, I guess you could say) and at the very start of it, I passed by Monument, the 201 foot tall pillar whose height is of much significance. You see, the Monument was erected to mark the horror of the Great Fire of London and its height is exactly the same as the distance from the bakery in Pudding Lane where the fire is said to have originated in 1666 destroying most of the city and reducing it to a heap of ashes. The only upside of this disaster was that the plague was finally eradicated from the city as the carrier rats were drowned in the River Thames in their attempt to escape the flames.

Recently refurbished, the monument glows with a sort of inner light that is hard to describe. The beautiful bas-relief at its base has been stripped of centuries-worth of dirt and grime and the crowning ornament at the very top of the pedestal is glowing with the new coating of gilt that it has recently received. It is possible to climb the 311 steps to the very top to receive stunning views of the city–which today I was sorely tempted to do as it was such a clear day. But I decided not to get sidetracked from my goal (which was to traverse a good part of the Jubilee route) so perhaps I shall keep this challenge on hold until July when my friend and travel companion Amy Tobin is intending to come from the States to spend a few days in London. We had climbed the 500 odd steps to Brunelleschi’s Dome in Florence in March of last year–so I guess we can try to repeat that feat this year at the Monument–if I can twist her arm to do it with me!

Then, I was tramping the pavements again following those silver disks and arriving at the crossroads where The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street aka The Bank of England made her imposing presence felt in the center of a traffic island. It is here that a very striking structure marks the Jubilee Walkway. A conical shaped marker provides the information that I am standing in one of the busiest parts of the city of London. Each day, I read, 350,000 people commute into this area to work. And at night, there are only 5000 residents left here. That explains why on the Bank Holiday Weekend, this area was as dead as the dodo! There was just no one here! I was astounded. I mean, can you imagine, up there in all those countless offices are 350,000 people hammering away at their computers and keeping the (rather sluggish) wheels of the economy turning!

When I finished marvelling at that fact, I turned my attention to the Neo-Classical edifice that is the Bank of England. Ever since I worked at the Reserve Bank of India (following my dad into the institution in which he worked for 40 years) when right out of college and while reading for my Masters in English at the University of Bombay, I have wanted to visit the Bank of England. Little did I know that I would have to wait for so many years, nay decades, before that dream could be accomplished. But no, I did not go inside. I had to content myself with an exterior visit and a few souvenir pictures before I set out again, this time arriving at the equally imposing Guildhall.

It was here that I introduced for the very first time to the Guildhall Art Gallery. I had no idea that such a place existed. And when I popped inside, after I had taken in the medieval building that for a moment made me think I was back in Bruges in Belgium, I discovered that entry was free to “residents of the City”. Now since I live on High Holborn, I am a resident of the “City”; but, of course, I wasn’t carrying anything on me that would proclaim this fact. I mean who goes around carrying any kind of document that contains one’s address? Well, OK, maybe if you drive a car, you might have your driver’s license with you. But otherwise, I can’t imagine that many people might have such a document in their wallets.

At any rate, the security guard, a fellow-Indian from Poona, who was delighted to discover that I was originally from Bombay, informed me that after 3. 30pm entry was free. He suggested I visit the Clock Museum on the opposite side of the quadrangle for free and then return in 15 minutes time. I had, by then, decided that the Guildhall Art Gallery probably deserved a visit all its own and resolving to push off, I made a mental note to return–perhaps on a rainy day!

So I set off again, this time following the route towards the Barbican which I discovered is a mammoth complex that has been created in the midst of a glass and concrete jungle that can be terribly perplexing if one doesn’t have a good map. Indeed, I was in a part of the city that I had never seen before surrounded by modernist architecture–all towering skyscrapers and glinting window panes–that were not my cup of tea at all. It was rather thankfully that I found my way out of the maze. By then I was tired and spying a Waitrose tucked away in a corner of Beech Street, I nipped in for some rum and raisin ice-cream and decided to look for a bus to take me back home. It was only a few minutes before I spied both a bus stop and a 55 that came trundling along to take me along Clerkenwell Street which I recognized immediately from one of the self-guided walking tours I had taken a few months ago–and then, presto, there I was at the intersection of Gray’s Inn Road and only a few yards from home.

A nice cup of Earl Grey (make that several!) with lemon and a touch of honey and a slice of Victoria Sandwich Cake and I was ready to grade the rest of my papers and transcribe yet another interview with John Stringer who is easily the most fascinating Anglo-Indian subject I have yet interviewed in England. Not only did he have extremely unconventional views which he expressed with a delightfully wacky sense of fun but he had the privilege of meeting both Mohandas Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru in his lifetime and he told me about these with the utmost animation. When that was done, I returned to some more email correspondence which is flowing in copiously as my students are sending me the outlines of their final research papers for approval.

I had started working at my computer at 5.00 pm and it was after 9 .00 pm when I stopped to eat my dinner (Chicken Kiev and a salad) while watching New Tricks on the Alibi channel. By 10.30pm, I was in bed, having brushed and flossed my teeth, hammering out this blog and getting ready for my last night alone at home before Chriselle joins me.

Tomorrow at this time, Inshallah, I shall have picked her up from Heathrow and brought her home to my flat. I am counting the seconds until her arrival.

The Jubilee Walk –Part 3

May4

Monday, May 4, 2009
London

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May3

Sunday, May 3, 2009
London

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May2

Saturday, May 2, 2009
London

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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