Touring the Tower,the Silver Vaults, Dickens’ London & National Theater

Jan16

Monday, January 16, 2012
London

An Early Start for the Tower of London:
Our NYU group was initially supposed to take a ride on the London Eye–but, to our bad luck, it remains closed this week for renovation. In lieu of that treat, our local travel agents–Anglo-America–suggested the Ceremony of the Keys at the Tower of London. Never having witnessed the spectacle, I was eager to attend and persuaded my students to get a quick start, an early breakfast and to make a beeline for the Tubes. Although we tried to race ahead, it is not easy getting a group of 45 odd people into the Underground trains at peak hour. We managed to get to the Tower by the skin of our teeth to watch the pomp and pageantry associated with the ceremony.

For the uninitiated, the Tower of London, which once housed the monarch (but merely the treasures of the Crown today in the form of the famed jewels), is locked up each evening (in yet another small spectacle) and opened each morning before the public is allowed inside. The locking-up ensures that no strangers or intruders linger on the premises to endanger the collection . Today, the holder of the keys is escorted by four armed guards because some time in the hoary past, one of the traders who used to fill the Tower, was annoyed at having to close down trade at the end of the day and cuffed the Key-bearer a whack. Every since then, he is protected in this important duty. The march down the main pathway inside the Tower and back takes only a few minutes–after which we were shooed off and told to return with the rest of the public at 10 am.

A Stroll Along Tower Bridge:
With an hour to kill, my colleague Robin and I decided to climb the stairs leading to Tower Bridge and to stroll along its length. It was a gorgeous morning, if a little nippy, and we kept thinking how much we’ve lucked out with the weather. Glorious sunshine has been following us around all week long and I am afraid to comment on the weather lest I might jinx it. The stroll was just delightful and when we returned to the guard box near the moat, we were right in time to begin our tour. Again, unfortunately, there is a whole lot of construction going on inside the Tower–which has meant that the Yeoman Warders (also known as Beefeaters) are not able to do their normal rounds of guided tours.

Left to my own resources, I made my way first to Bloody Tower, renowned as the prison of Sir Walter Raleigh who spent nine years inside with his family and wrote his History of the World in a room while under captivity. I had not seen this room in 25 years–so it was a refreshing addition to the bits of the Tower that I usually do not miss. A first edition of Raleigh’s book was proudly on display in a glass case as were the desk and chair at which he produced his masterpiece. Bloody Tower was also the site of the murder of the two young sons of Edward IV and although it has never been proven who was responsible for their deaths, fingers of blame have pointed variously at Richard III and Henry VII. A very dramatic rendition of the circumstances surrounding their deaths is available in the room in which they were allegedly smothered in their beds as they slept.

Then it was time for me to join the guided tour at 10. 30 am and in the company of a Yeoman Warder with a particularly strong Welsh accent, I was led to the Church of St. Peter Ad Vincula (St. Peter in Chains). There, the assembled throng was treated to a history of the church together with many apologies from the guide about the reasons for the abbreviated tour. I was delighted to find a memorial plaque on the wall of the chapel to Field-Marshal Chetwode who had served in India and whose daughter, Lady Penelope Chetwode (married to Poet Laureate Sir John Betjeman), I had met and made friends with long years ago while I was a teenager in Simla, in North India. I asked the guide if he would make an exception and permit me to take a picture of the plaque and he did so “with pleasure” (or so he said).

My next stop was the White Tower, the oldest part of the Tower and once London’s highest structure (at four storeys) and visible for a good five miles as one approached the city. Today it is used as a receptacle for royal arms and armour and presents a wonderful opportunity to study such implements (if one is so inclined). I then made my way to yet another building that houses an exhibition on the Royal Fusiliers and then, because I know that I ought to save the best for last, I went into the building holding the famous Crown Jewels. No matter how often one gazes at them, they are still fascinating and devoid of the summer crowds that make a visit to the Tower rather challenging, it was great to have the hall to ourselves. As always, the Koh-i-noor Diamond and the Cullinan (Star of Africa) Diamond coax the loudest gasps but it is the darling 60th Diamond Jubilee crown designed and made for Queen Victoria that always steals my heart away.

A quick nip into the Crown Jewels shop saw me emerge from it with a lovely pearl necklace based on Tudor designs–at a heavily discounted price, it was indeed a bargain and made a nice souvenir of my visit.

Lunch with Barbara near Chancery Lane:
Then, I was on the 15 bus (hoping to hop into one of the old Routemasters but not succeeding) and getting off at Chancery Lane down which I walked past all the smart shops selling expensive clothing that only the lawyers that frequent the area can afford. My destination was 25 Southampton Building, where my friend and former next-door neighbor Barbara, has her office–as a patent lawyer it is only fitting that her office is located in the basement of the former London Patent Office. After I went through stringent security, Barbara gave me a tour of the building and grand it was too–the ground floor retains the look of a library (though this is only decorative today), the towering ceiling was decorated with plaster motifs, a huge clock is embedded in the center and galleries resembling the various decks of a ship surround the interior. It was just fabulous. Barbara then took me down to her little office over which her Office Bear keeps guard (for she is a collector of teddy bears).

When our tour was completed, Barbara and I made our way to High Holborn to look for a light meal and it was at a pub called The Melton Mowbray which I had passed by a gazillion times as it was in my former ‘hood, that we settled down in a corner close to a fireplace to chat over beer and cider and soup for Barbara and a delicious Mushroom and Mustard Tart for me. All too soon, however, our cozy tete-a-tete had to end as Barbara had to return to work–but not before she led me into the London Silver Vaults that are concealed in the basement of the building about which few visitors know. In fact, it seems that I had to return to America to find the place!

Exploring London’s Silver Vaults:
London’s Silver Vaults are just that: well-secured vaults for the storage of sterling silver items that are prized for their provenance, antiquity and artistic accomplishment. I had intended to survey the merchandise only–revelling in the knowledge that such museum quality pieces were actually available for sale–at a handsome price, of course, but available nonetheless. Barbara left me to my own devices in a few moments to return to work; and less than half an hour later, I made a purchase that thrills me so much that I have absolutely no buyer’s remorse although it was a rather impulsive buy. I look forward now to my solitary tea-time at home in Southport when I shall have the pleasure of serving my own tea in an antique Victorian silver teapot with matching sugar and creamer.

Off to see Dickens’ London at the Museum of London:
Then, I was hopping buses again and heading to the London Wall to get to the Museum of London to see the special exhibition entitled ‘Dickens’ London’ that celebrates the 200th anniversary of the novelist’s birth. Barbara had advised me to see the 20 minute film (that is usually seen at the end of the exhibition) at the outset and I was glad I did. The museum which is free to the public, charged eight pounds for the ticket–but for my money, being able to see the original unfinished painting by Bucks (entitled Dickens’ Dream), the desk and chair that he used while writing his novels at his house in Gad’s Hill near Rochester, Kent (and which feature in the painting) were worth every penny of my entry fee. Several manuscripts, proofreading copies and first editions of his novels were on display as were large numbers of paintings and engravings of the various parts of London that he had frequented and loved–most of them are found within a compact two mile radius of the City and comprise places that I myself known so well and love. So, overall, I enjoyed perusing the display.

I did not want to leave the Museum of London without spending some time at the new exhibit entitled The Victorian Walk (I had seen it briefly on my last visit four months ago in August and had felt compelled then to return to spend more time in it at a later date). Needless to say, it tied in perfectly with the Dickens’ exhibition I had just seen–and I loved every moment of the time I spent there as I browsed from one store front to the next created to replicate the busy streets of London in Victoria’s reign–from the barber and the banker to the pharmacist and the grocer. There was even a public urinal dating from those times for the use of which people paid a penny: hence the expression “to spend a penny!”

Joining my Colleagues for Dinner at Wagamama:
With an hour to spare before I met my colleagues (Wilnelia, Robin, and Paolo and Louis) for dinner on the South Bank, I took the 100 bus to St. Paul’s from where I changed to the 15 to ride along Fleet Street. I alighted at Somerset House, crossed Waterloo Bridge on foot and arrived at Wagamama which is a favorite Japanese chain of restaurants in London (alas, not yet present in the US). It was an especially pleasant walk along the river bank with the beautifully illuminated buildings throwing multi-colored reflections into the water. Before long, my colleagues joined me and we sat down to enjoy big bowlfuls of soup that swam with noodles and seafood and all manner of delicious morsels. When we had eaten our fill, we made our way to our next appointment–a theater date at the National.

Seeing Lenny Henry in The Comedy of Manners:
Having seen The Comedy of Manners at the Regent’s Park Open Air Theater with my friend Cynthia less than two years ago, I would ordinarily have been reluctant to see the play again. But when I had discovered that comedian Lenny Henry would be taking the lead role, it became a no-brainer for me and I looked a ticket online without losing any time at all. I had adored Henry in Chef, a BBC TV series that I had first seen on PBS in the States. So you can imagine what a great time we had at the theater for Henry was in top form, the production was superb, the sets and set changes were simply marvelous and the audience was amazingly interactive. Shakespeare’s words were articulated with humor and brilliance. It made for a fun-filled evening at the theater and I felt deeply gladdened that I had managed to get a ticket.

A Stroll over Hungerford Bridge Back Home:
Not wanting to stay up too late, we walked across Hungerford Bridge stopping frequently to take pictures of the beautifully illuminated city buildings until we reached the Embankment from where we took the Tube to get back home. It did not fail to occur to me that I had started the day strolling over an antique brigde (Tower Bridge) and was ending it by strolling over another–the far more conemporary Hungerford.

Without wasting too much time, we reached our rooms and decided to make an early night of it as we have to start before dawn tomorrow for our coach ride to Liverpool.

Braving Illness, Cruising to Greenwich, Checking out London’s Food

Jan15

Sunday, January 15, 2012
London

For the third time in a row, my stays in London have been disrupted by a bout of illness that comes from left field and brings me to my knees–literally. After spending a sleepless night during which my body temperature waxed and waned, I awoke at dawn with a splitting headache, nausea, weakness–the works. I disregarded two hotel wake-up calls and when it felt as if I simply couldn’t drag myself from my bed, I called my colleague to tell her I had no choice but to opt out of our excursion to Greenwich. Popping a pill into my mouth, I pulled the comforter around me and hoped to get back to sleep feeling even sicker with disappointment.

It was about 10. 45 when I awoke feeling much better. I jumped into the shower in the hope that water’s rejuvenating effects would work their magic–and they did! I nipped down quickly to the restaurant for brekkie, then got out of the hotel and jumped on to the Tube and the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) with the idea of getting to Greenwich and linking up with my students. As it turned out, public transport worked wonders and within 40 minutes I was at in the quaint heart of Greenwich.

Exploring Greenwich:
My students, who had left the hotel at 9 am, had taken the ferry from the Embankment and in the company of Warren, our Blue Badge Guide, had a wonderfully enlightening morning. By the time I arrived in Greenwich at 12 noon, they had climbed the hill to the Royal Observatory at which point they had dispersed. My energy levels were much too low to carry me up the hill. I entered the National Maritime Museum instead (where I hooked up with my colleague Wil and her partner Louis) and made a beeline for Nelson’s blood-stained coat in the dimly-lit gallery where it is proudly displayed. Because I had explored the museum before at length and in detail, I walked briskly to Christopher Wren’s masterpiece–the Royal Naval College–and entered two of my favorite rooms in the entire country: The Chapel (with masterworks on the ceiling by James Stewart and on the altarpiece by Benjamin West) and the magnificent Painted Hall (considered to be the second most beautiful painted room in Europe (after Rome’s Sistine Chapel)–the handiwork of James Thornhill who also painted the interior of the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral. I spent an enormous amount of time in these rooms in order to study their decorative details at length. Outside, with the sun pouring down upon Greenwich’s green expansive lawns and statuary, I took dozens of pictures.

I next went to The Museum attached to the Tourist Information Hall to ponder over exhibits that comprise ‘Discover Greenwich’. And indeed I did. What I love most about being a perpetual student of history is that there is always yet another new fact I learn no matter how often I revisit historic haunts. I did not know, for instance, that a royal palace called Placentia had once stood on Wren’s site: Henry VIII loved it, his daughters Mary and Elizabeth were born in it. When Inigo Jones built the Queen’s Palace for Queen Charlotte, he was only adding to a number of buildings that had already seen royal occupation. Overall, I had a great time and was delighted that I had overcome my early joust with illness and had made the decision to save the day.

However, I discovered soon that I was not the only one feeling out-of-sorts. It seems that jetlag and their incessant partying has caught up with my students who were dropping with fatigue on the boat ride. A decision was, therefore, taken to terminate our visit early and instead of taking the 5 pm ferry back to the city, we boarded one at 3 pm. I made the most of my abbreviated cruise and upon disembarking at Tower Gate, we hopped into the Tube to return to Victoria.

Off to F&M for some Foodie Fun:
My next port of call was Fortnum and Mason at Piccadilly: indeed I never leave London without doing the mandatory rounds about its enticing merchandise and feeling deeply tempted to buy it all. I contented myself this time round, however, with jars of goose fat (impossible to find in the USA and perfect for roasting potatoes) and jars of Jubilee Majestic Marmalade: F&M’s unique blend made especially for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and studded with flakes of gold! Sheer decadence in a jam jar! I bought a few more bits and bobs before I decided to seek refreshment in The Parlor on the first floor. Although I was dying for a cuppa, I decided to have a sundae instead. The Parlor is famed for his Knickerbocker Glory–a sundae that comprises raspberry puree, fresh raspberries, vanilla ice-cream and whipped cream. I chose instead to eat a ‘Dusty Road’ Sundae composed of Chocolate, Praline and Coffee ice-cream, amaretti biscuits and caramel sauce. It just hit the spot in that it ended my hunger pangs but did not fill me up to capacity. I had a dinner engagement later in the evening and needed to save some room.
When I had finished surveying F&M’s lovely selection of china, silver and crystal on the top floors and section after section of gastronomic temptation on the lower floor, I hopped several buses to get to Seymour Street near Marble Arch for my next appointment at 7 pm.

Dinner at Locanda Locatelli:
In recent months, chef Giorgio Locatelli’s restaurant Locanda Locatelli, located in the Churchill Hotel on Portman Square, has been very much in the news for the acquisition of the gold standard in the restaurant business–a Michelin star. Locatelli, a Sicilian, has also written a book entitled Tastes of Sicily and is renowned for his use of the best ingredients superbly, if simply, prepared. So when Llew’s former colleague and our family friend Mr. Hassan, suggested that I meet him there for dinner, I did a double take. Indeed I was well in time for our 7 pm seating and was amazed to find out that he is a regular at the place and is greeted personally by the wait staff who know him well.

For the next couple of hours, we had a leisurely ‘catch up’ over some of Locatelli’s specialities: both of us chose Tagliatelli with Lobster, chilli and garlic oil for our Primary source. For my Secondi, I chose medium-rare venison steaks served with radichhio de Treviso and mushrooms while my friend chose the sea bass. Both dishes were very satisfying indeed and we could well see why Locatelli has built up such a sterling reputation. Unfortunately, having snacked on the excellent bread basket while sipping a glass of Prosecco, I had not saved room for dessert and coffee. Sweet somethings in the form of chocolate truffles, marzipan-filled choux puffs and marshmallows were presented with the compliments of the chef and it was with difficulty that I managed to stand up and walk off. My friend dropped me back to the Hotel Grosvenor where I decided to make a very early night of it in view of my very recent recovery.

Our travels are going swimmingly and I can only hope that they will continue to be as fulfilling as the days go by.

Shopping in the Morning, Culture at the End of Day

Jan15

Saturday, January 14, 2012
London

I suppose I should add a couple more items to my London To-Do List–the sort of tems that make me feel as if I’ve never ever left: braving the Middle Eastern throngs at Harrod’s post-Christmas sales, haggling for reproductions of hotel silver at Portobello Road, tucking into a steak and ale pie at a historic pub (like The George, London’s oldest galleried inn, now managed by The National Trust in Southwark) and, last, but certainly not the least, sitting on the edge of one’s seat during a drama at the West End. We did all this and more today!

The Pleasures of a Full English Breakfast:
So, with sleep still fixing my eyelids tightly together, I managed to awake at 8 am, showered, got dressed and descended into The Brasserie which is the restaurant in our hotel, The Grosvenor, for a full English breakfast–my American students understood why it was so named when they could scarcely get out of their seats at the end of the meal. They described it as “awesome” but stuck to the known and familiar: it was only at my insistence that they tried some of the black pudding on the menu and pronounced it to be an acquired taste!

Braving Harrods’ throngs:
Since they had the morning to themselves, they disappeared in order to go their separate ways after brekkie…but I took the Tube to Harrods where I’d made plans to hook up with my friend Bashir who arrived from Wembley to spend the morning with me. The crowds at Harrods were insane especially since this weekend they’re offering a ten per cent discount over and above their unbelievably low prices. I made a beeline for the cosmetics and toiletries section and was pleased to walk away with Woods of Windsor lavender soaps for a song–not to mention tea cozies that were priced at a pound each! I mean how could I possibly go wrong?

On Portobello Road:
Then Bash and I took a bus to Portobello Road because it was a Saturday morning and, although a Londoner for his entire life, he had never been! I had warned him that the place offers nothing remarkable these days-those days are long gone when I had bought a superb Imari umbrella stand and a porcelain Shelley jelly mould . There was some hotel silver, but I have to say that hallmarks are so easily faked that I was reluctant to believe anything was genuine, leave alone antique! Still, we enjoyed the Notting Hill neighborhood on a really lovely morning. I was afraid we’d get nothing but grey skies throughout our stay; but although temperatures are bracing, there is golden sunshine following us persistently everywhere.

We didn’t stay on Portebello Road for long: throngs were rather daunting there too. It is hard to believe that it is not really tourist season in the UK for every second voice is speaking a foreign language. We got back on the Tube to Victoria so that I could drop off my buys and pick up my opera glasses from my room: I never go to the theater in London without carrying them along.

“In Southwark at the Tabard as I lay…”:
A large number of my students met us in the hotel lobby at the appointed hour of 3.00 pm to make our way on the Tube to Southwark to The George Inn for a very early supper. I was rather hungry by this point–my very filling English breakfast having been long digested through the energy required for my manic walking tour of the city. At London Bridge Tube Station, I paused to give my students a short literary history of Southwark and its associations with Chaucer, Shakespeare and Gower before we trooped into the pub to be directed to a private room with a whole lot of ambiance–thanks to exposed beams on the ceiling and stucco walls. Our three-course menu kicked off with a Tomato Soup and was followed by a Steak and Ale Pie with Roast Potatoes, really delectable Taro Root chips and Green Beans. For dessert (or more correctly, pudding), we had a choice of Chocolate Bavarois (no marks for guessing that it was what I opted for) or Apple Crumble that swam in a piping hot custard. Indeed our meal could not have been more English and we did enjoy it.

On Foot to the Monument:
Then, we were crossing Southwark Bridge on foot to get across the Thames and at Christopher Wren’s Monument, I paused to give my students yet another mini account of the Great Fire of London of 1666 and Wren’s role in its reconstruction. Needless to say, several felt tempted to climb the 350 odd steps to the gilded urn of flames at the top and probably will do so soon. Unfortunately, I lacked the time to take them to neighboring Pudding Lane to show them the spot where the fire is alleged to have started–but they did get the idea.

The Lion in Winter at the West End:
At Monument Underground station, we took trains to Piccadilly and then spent the rest of the evening marveling at thespians like Robert Lindsey and Joanna Lumley who took the roles of Henry II and Eleanor of Acquitaine in The Lion in Winter at the Theater Royal Haymarket. A truly witty script kept us chuckling throughout and the sets, music ( mostly Gregorian chants) and performances kept us absorbed.

I said goodbye to Bash (who had joined us for dinner and the play) right before the majority of us got back on the Tube to the hotel. Because we are still on New York time, none of us felt ready for bed–so it was not surprising that the ‘chaperones’ congregated at the Reunion Bar for cocktails. I had a chance to say goodbye to my colleague Mahnaz’s friend Tessa who was visiting her from Florence (as she returns to Italy tomorrow) before I decided to call it a day.

Tomorrow will mean an early start as we head for a day out on the river to Greenwich. I am energized by the vivacity of this city and still rarin’ to go…

Back on Terra Britannica–January 2012

Jan14

Friday, January 13, 2012
London

So Good To Be Back on Terra Britannica!

I guess you can say I am in London each time I transit through Heathrow airport to and from India. But to really feel as if I’ve returned to London, I must:

1. Ride the Tube
2. Ride the Red Buses (preferably on the upper deck)
3. Sashay down Oxford Street in the thick of tourist-shoppers
4. Tour an ancient monument
5. Return to the tearooms of one of the department stores and have a genuine English pot of tea.
6. Peruse some of my favorite canvasses at the National Gallery

So guess what? I feel I have truly returned to London because today I did all this and more–in the less than twelve hours since I landed on Terra Britannica.

But let me take you back to Southport, Connecticut, that I was almost relieved to leave behind on a wet windy afternoon. A chatty chauffeur named Nabeel from Damascus, Syria, representing the Prime Time Shuttle Limo service to the airport, arrived on the dot and dropped me to Newark airport in New Jersey in record time despite having stopped at a highway rest stop to buy me a hazelnut coffee! I was the second person from my batch of NYU students to arrive and I checked in immediately, thrilled to have been allotted a window seat. Before long, the majority of my troupe of 15 students (plus 2 faculty members) arrived. Excitement was palpable as we cleared security, boarded our aircraft and were airborne on a very light flight indeed. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I could easily spread out to the three-seaters at the back of the aircraft where I could stretch out and fall asleep, post-dinner. Sarah Jessica Parker, Greg Kinnear and Pierce Brosnan kept me chuckling for a while in I Don’t Know How She Does It before I popped a sleeping pill (as is my wont on overseas flights) and slipped off into oblivion for the next four hours.

Needless to say, I awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed just before we landed at Heathrow. Unfortunately, it was still too dark at 6. 20 am for me to pick out the landmarks of the city although we flew directly above it on our descent. Still, the O2 Millennium Dome was clear as were Tower Bridge and the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf.

I also discovered, on this flight, for the first time, that using twin styrofoam cups packed with paper towels wrung out in hot water really do work for blocked and painful ears (that I have inherited from my Dad) when dealing with aircraft landings. The Continental Airlines flight attendant was very helpful in acceding to my request (which, apparently, is frequent) and promised me that the method works. And indeed it did! Just when I thought my pain would grow unbearable, I turned a corner, as it were, and the discomfort gradually subsided until it disappeared altogether in just a few minutes. Live and Learn!

Visiting Westminster Abbey:
After we cleared immigration and claimed our baggage, we waited only 15 minutes in the lobby before the second NYU troupe arrived; and after meeting our airport rep Adam, we were on our way to the city in a double decker Westway coach with a very nice driver named John. Although we had just made a long trans-Atlantic crossing, we had to launch straight into our program of sight-seeing as check-in time at our hotel was 3 pm.

So on we went to Westminster Abbey where we were met by two Blue Badge guides, Abigail and Warren. We stuck to our two groups as we launched into a fascinating discovery of British history from the time of Edward the Confessor to the present day–guides never fail to inform visitors that the site was the venue of the internationally-televised wedding of Prince William to Kate Middleton . With an hour and a half at our disposal to take it all in, the guides did a splendid, if concise, job of pointing out the highlights of the vast space: the Coronation Chair (now minus the Stone of Scone which has been returned to Scotland where I saw it three years ago) , the heights of the nave (the highest in the land), the poppy-encircled gravestone of the Unknown Soldier, the monuments to Issac Newton and other important personalities including a host of monarchs of England and indeed Scotland (Mary, Queen of Scots, is prominent). Since I was returning to the Abbey as a tourist after almost 25 years (I have attended services in the abbey very frequently through the years), I found the entire visit most enlightening. In particular, my interest was piqued by the tombs of Elizabeth I and her half-sister Bloody Mary, the Tomb of Edward the Confessor and Henry VII and, of course, the plethora of writers in Poet’s Corner.

Other interesting bits of the Abbey are the mosaic altarpiece, the beautifully carved wooden choir stalls, the octagonal Chapter House with its superb ceramic tiles (once used for meetings of Parliament), the oldest door in Britain, the oldest room in Britain (now housing a small chapel), the Abbey Museum (holding Britain’s oldest altarpiece)–all dating from way back when! Being from America, we were, of course, taken to the Anglo-American chapel with its exquisite stained glass windows (where Oliver Cromwell lies buried) and a hole in the wall (now covered with a piece of glass) where a bomb came through during World War I.

Apart from the amazing interior, the abbey boasts superb cloisters and high Gothic architecture on the exterior that can hold one enthralled for hours. Group entry is from the lovely adjoining Dean’s Yard. What I loved most about our visit was that we had the place almost entirely to ourselves with none of the crowds that jostle for elbow room during the busy summer months. I have to say that I was simply delighted to have had the opportunity to see this historic monument with the eyes of a studied tourist and to have done so in the company of expert guides who truly know their city was indeed a privilege.

Double Decker Bus Tour of London:
No sooner did we finish touring the Abbey than we were on the coach again winding our way around the city’s main sights. In the able hands of Warren who informed me that he is a journalist and published writer of local London history, we were shown the standard sights and treated to an informative and entertaining commentary from which even I learned volumes. We alighted only once to take pictures outside St. Paul’s Cathedral and then we were on our way to our hotel as jetlag had begun to catch up with several of my students, some of whom had traveled to New York from various parts of the USA to board their flights.

On to Hotel Grosvenor, Victoria:
You could not find a more centrally located hotel in London if you tried! The Grosvenor, on ‘Buck’s Palace’ Road, is one of the Victorian ‘railway hotels’ that were created to house passengers for a night or two before they boarded trains from major termini in the 19th century. Most of these fell into disarray and The Grosvenor, which is one such, was completely refurbished and renovated very recently and now stands proudly, reclaiming its past glory with none of its aura faded in the slightest. If anything, it shines anew, its lobby making a striking first impression as you troop in under the light of a gigantic crystal chandelier.

We waited a while for our rooms to be ready; but throughout we had impeccable service and superb attention to detail from the staff and the representative of our tour company. Before long, we were all provided with room keys and as I made my way along the first (American second!) floor corridors (which did seem interminable), I was deeply taken by the tasteful manner in which the renovation has been conducted. My room is modern, immaculate and spacious. I was just delighted at what I saw. I unpacked swiftly and made myself at home. I imagine that most of my co-travelers made a beeline for their bed–not yours truly. No sirree, Bob. I swiftly freshened up and armed with gifts for my hosts set out for Holborn for my dinner appointment with my former next-door neighbors in my building near Chancery Lane.

A Pukka Cuppa at Marks & Sparks:
But, of course, I was much too early for dinner, so I hopped off at Oxford Street to join the usual throngs of determined shoppers. I headed first to Marks and Sparks’ Food section to buy some of my particular favorites–all housed in the Frozen desserts section! Then, weighted down with my buys, I found the tearoom where I pepped myself up on a pot of Gold Blend tea and felt as if I was truly in England again! Miracles are wrought on the strength of a pukka cuppa alone!

Leonardo da Vinci at The National Gallery:
Fortified, I hopped red buses and Tube trains like a pro feeling truly as if London is my second home. Because Fridays mean late evening closing at the National Gallery, I had to take advantage…so I hopped off at Trafalgar Square (all beautifully lit for the evening) and walked to the Museum which happens to be one of my favorite places in the whole wide world. I always think that I will spend just a hour or so among my best-loved pieces but, invariably, I lose control of time and before I know it, I have spent hours, my back starts aching and my feet start protesting…but still I soldier on…so reluctant do I always feel to part company with the Old Masters.

I have to admit that I looked with envy upon those lucky ticket-holders emerging out of the special exhibiton on Leonardo da Vinci which is the most talked-about European art event this winter. Tickets are sold out with only a few given out each day for which queues form before dawn! I reached the entrance of the special exhibition and read up on the main items to be seen inside. Then, disappointed, I walked away.

Dinner Par Excellence with Old Friends in Holborn:
When I felt as if I lingering any longer would make me unfashionably late for my dinner appointment, I left the museum and found my way by bus to Holborn–passing, along the way, my former stomping grounds and revelling in the sense that I have never really left London for part of my heart continues to inhabit its compelling corners. When I jumped off the bus and made my way to my former building, my mounting nostalgic for an incredible time in my life was simply too much to take. With trembling fingers, I punched in the code number for Tim and Barbara’s flat and was let into the familiar lobby that I love so well.

Then it was reunion time as, warm hugs and kisses later, I was catching up with my dear friends whose generosity is marched only by their amazing culinary prowess. Tim creates meals that beggar description but tonight’s outdid all the rest. His Steak with a Brandy Cream Sauce was truly to die for–matched only by perfectly roasted potatoes and delicate grilled asparagus. Dessert was Tim’s signature Brown Bread Ice-Cream–this time made more special (if indeed such a thing is possible) by the addition of ground hazelnuts and a heart of strawberry sorbet! Exquisite is simply not the word. It is not great to start one’s first meal in London so stupendously, I thought, because it can only go downhill from here!

Still, apart from a gastronomic feast, the evening was remarkable for the fun company of our mutual friends, Elizabeth Miles and her husband Andrew, who had journeyed from Bristol and a lovely couple I was meeting for the first time, James and Netta. Just when I thought the meal could not possibly get any better, out came the cheese and crackers–and a nicer selection would be hard to find. And then there was more…Belgian chocolates served with coffee (or, as in my case, ginger tea). And I haven’t yet mentioned our libations of which there were many: we started with glasses of champagne, moved on to wine (I drank beer), then had an outstanding glass of Australian Sauternes with dessert and enjoyed a glass of Madeira with coffee! What could possibly be more decadent? I even decided to overlook the fact that I have an allergy to wine!

It was almost 11 pm before we got up to leave. With Elizabeth and Andrew staying on for the night, I took my leave of my warm and generous friends and found my way to Chancery Lane Tube station–all of fifteen steps away! And then, before you could say Hotel Grosvenor, I was entering its doors, sorting out formalities associated with getting a wifi connection in my room …and was on my way to writing this blog.

If today is any indication of the week that lies ahead, I am one happy camper. Londinium, here I come!

Au Revoir England!

Sep7

Sunday, September 4, 2011
London

Last days in a city are meant to be frenetic but I was seized by uncontrollable nervousness as the day wore on–partly because I realized that my hosts did not own a weighing scale and I was afraid I’d have overweight baggage. Cathedral bells woke me up on a weepy morning in time for a quick wash before I left for the 8 am Mass at St. Etheldreda’s Church at Holborn Circus–my ‘parish’ whilst I had lived in London.

Regular readers of this blog will know how delighted I’d been to discover that my parish is considered the UK’s oldest Catholic Church. Built in the 1200s as part of the London headquarters of the Bishop of Ely (near Cambridge), it grew into an important ecclesiastical center in the Tudor and Elizabethan periods (Henry VIII and Elizabeth I are both known to have worshipped in it). After the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536, the church fell into disuse and the vast land surrounding it, bordering Hatton Garden, fell into the hands of the Crown. Only the chapel remained with its exquisite stained glass windows. After the Reformation, it became the first church to be restored to the Church of Rome and is, therefore, considered the country’s oldest Catholic Church. Although I love attending Sunday service at Anglican churches when I am in England, it is always a pleasure for me to return to St. Etheldreda’s, for old times’ sake, and to revel in its marvelous history.

Today, that pleasure was enhanced by the fact that I got to meet my friend Barbara once again. I recall Sunday mornings in my Holborn flat when at precisely 8. 45 am, I’d hear the door next to mine shut gently as Barbara made her way, unfailingly, to St. Etheldreda’s for the 9 am Mass. And sure enough, there she was, like clockwork, in the church at 8. 55 am. It was heartwarming to see her as well as to discover that not much has changed in two years. There was still only a sprinkling of people, Fr. Tom Deidun is still around (and said the mass), the Lector is the same lovely white lawyer with the impeccable British accent and beautiful voice and the man who sits besides her (partner? husband?) still wears his cardigan around his shoulders!

This Sunday happened to be one on which the mass liturgy has changed in the UK so a laminated leaflet was available to illuminate the way. Changes are subtle but took me back to the responses of decades ago for many phrases were familiar to me from yore. After listening to a very interesting sermon by Fr. Tom, I was glad I’d opted to attend Mass at St. E’s. When Mass ended and we trooped out into Ely Place, Holborn was still asleep, having a lazy Sunday morning lie-in. Barbara invited me back home to her place for coffee and since Cynthia and Michael were headed to a later service at the Cathedral, I accepted. “But we need to get the paper first”, she said, revealing her fondness for routine–for indeed, walking to Holborn Tube Station for the Sunday Times has also been an unfailing part of her Sunday morning. We stopped at Paul’s Patisserie for croissants upon our return.

By the time we arrived at her flat, Tim had put out all the fixin’s for a very nice Continental breakfast–our croissants, butter, preserves and honey, fruit, coffee. An exquisite bowl of plump red cherries (the only ones I ate all season) were irresistible. We chatted, we munched, we chatted some more and then it was time for me to leave–but not without discovering that they owned a weighing scale that they were willing to lend me. Deeply grateful, I put it in a bag and hauled it home to Amen Corner.

I spent the next hour and a half attempting to distribute my stuff in two bags and a carry-on. The scale proved to be very useful and soothed my troubled nerves. Aidan was very helpful in converting stone into pounds with the calculator on his I-Pad. After a quick shower and lunch of chipolata sausages and spicy tortellini that I ate with Aidan, my mini-cab (nicknamed The Afghan Hound by the Colcloughs!) arrived at my door and in the pouring rain, I bid goodbye to my kindly and very generous hosts and left.

Rain streamed down the windshield all the way to Heathrow, as Barbara put it, as if London was weeping to see me leave. My driver, a very chatty young chap called Mo, did not go along Cromwell Road as I requested because traffic, he assured me, would be bad as a result of a bike race. Instead we took the more boring Euston Road and then the West Highway. We arrived at Heathrow where I discovered that my carry-on was overweight. Good job I’d arrived early for the traffic assistant permitted me to redistribute weight in my larger bags and once that was accomplished, I sailed through to security.

Of course, I could not leave London without browsing in the duty free area–I have my favorite shops at Terminal 3 (Jo Malone, Cartier, Harrods) where I ended up buying a Plum Pudding as I usually do. That’s it, I thought. Christmas well in advance sorted!

The skies over London were overcast as we took off and climbed higher. Although I had a window seat, my view was obscured by clouds and haze. I realized that I was eager to get back home to Southport and although my UK stay had been, as always, much to write home about, I was ready to leave.

Kennedy airport was chaotic, as it usually is, upon my return. In a few minutes, I reunited with Llew after three whole months and as he took the wheel upon our long drive homewards, I thought to myself, it is so good to come home again!

Until the next time when I return to my London Roost, I say Au Revoir–and thanks again for following me.

Cheers!

My Second-Last Day in London

Sep4

Saturday, September 4, 2011
London

With less than 48 hours left before I departed from London, I was eager to fill them in with all sorts of pleasurable solo loitering. But, having made the discovery that I had left my credit card behind at Rymans stationery in Holborn last evening, I had no choice but to hop on a bus to get there and pick it up.

Cynthia made us a typical English Fry-Up for breakfast–scrambled eggs with chipolata sausages and bacon and toast–artery-clogging and heart-attack-inducing, but oh so yummy! Then, I was at the bus-stop chatting on my mobile with Rahul, one of Chriselle’s friends, when I lost my concentration and took the wrong bus. Realizing my mistake immediately, I resolved to get off at the next stop, only to find myself staring directly at the walls of the Museum of London.

Of course, then my error seemed fated because seeing the newly-installed basement of the museum had been on my To-Do List (I had just wondered when to fit it all in). The museum had just opened for the day, so I raced downstairs and spent the next half hour viewing its newest highlights–of course, the piece de resistance is the spectacular stage coach of the Lord Mayor of London. I also saw Ann Fanshaw’s 18th century dress that never allowed her to go through doorways (she had to be pushed through my her footmen!), Selfridges’ amazingly decorative Art Deco elevator from the 1930s, a simply superbly evoked ‘Victorian Walk’ that included shop front windows from the era (they most certainly deserve more time to be done justice), a pashmina from Alexander McQueen, a Vespa scooter, and several other items. But then I heard an announcement stating that a guided Highlights tour would shortly be starting and I signed up for that with a guide named Kristy who took us on a walk through the museum through which the stirring history of this city was recounted. I know that I will return again to the Museum of London when I am here in January for it definitely deserves a much more leisurely browsing.

Then on the bus I went again to Rymans, where, thankfully, my credit card was waiting for me and after producing ID, it was handed back. With the sun pouring down and warming the city (maybe a little too much), I decided to take bus rides (as I have a weekly pass that allows me to take unlimited rides all week) through the city to enjoy its weekend buzz. However, I did make a detour at Foyle’s bookstore because I really cannot leave London ever without browsing through its collection.

At Cambridge Circus, I took a bus again–this time headed to Chelsea and Sloan Square for the King’s Road is one of my favorite streets in which to window-shop. I always alight at the Duke of York’s Square where at the weekend, vendors put up stalls to showcase and sell their artisinal foods. I made a small meal on the cheeses, spreads, deli cured meats, drinks, breads and cookies that were handed out, then continued my window-shopping. It was all great fun and I had a quiet blast. In one of the shops, I actually found a vintage pleated skirt and quickly bought it so my shopping expedition wasn’t entirely in vain.

Loathe to leave Chelsea’s chic precincts, I hopped on a bus and a Tube train to make my way to Holborn to have tea with my friend Sushil Velu at his flat on Theobald’s Road. I was seeing Sushil after two years and we had much to talk about and catch up on. Over lovely hot tea and a very spicy Punjabi samosa, we renewed our friendship and then I was bidding him goodbye and walking quickly to Holborn Tube station for my next appointment–this one with my Elphinstone College (Bombay) classmate Michelle. After an affectionate reunion, we walked along Kingsway together, took a bus up Fleet Street to St. Paul’s, settled down at Paul’s Patisserie for hot chocolate and a chocolate eclair and caught up. We have known each other since we joined college as undergraduates at 16. This past year has been a particularly challenging one for both of us so we were a little tearful at the end of our chat as we talked about so much that has happened. Michelle is a lawyer who works for British Parliament and I find her company endlessly fascinating as well as unfailingly amusing. But too soon, it was time for us to move on to our next appointments–she to the Southbank for dinner with friends and I, back home to Amen Court for my last dinner with my affectionate hosts, Michael and Cynthia.

Llew got online in Southport just before we sat for dinner and was able to Skype with me and the Colclough family. The event was so fascinating to the Colcloughs that I promised to try to hook them on to Skype so that we could have video conversations when I return to Southport. I found that Cynthia had cooked a Lamb Curry with Spinach in my honor and together we sat and ate a lovely meal. Though the knowledge that I would be leaving them tomorrow tugged at my heart strings, I know that I will see them and their lovely sons, Edward and Aidan, again in January–God willing, so I cheered up. After dinner, over Black Forest Gateau, I attempted to hook them on to Skype and was glad to have met with success! What a lovely evening we had! Indeed, what a superbly productive day I’d had–a museum visit, a leisurely ramble in a favorite London quarter, a bit of retail therapy, happy reunions with friends old and new and bus rides in the city of which I never tire.

Indeed, London has been, as always, a happy interlude for me en route home from India and I am happy to have had this unexpected opportunity to enjoy my favorite city at my leisure. Thanks for following my blog once more and for accompanying me on this sojourn. I will sign off now and say goodbye and will inform you the next time I resume my rumination from my Roost in London.

Cheers for now!

A Little Bit of This and That

Sep2

Friday, September 2, 2011

London

When its not jetlag, it is the tolling bells of St. Paul’s Cathedral right outside my window that wake me up at the crack of dawn. Not that I’m complaining. I actually quite love the sound of those bells and the centuries of history they evoke as soon as I open my eyes. It’s hard to stop myself from drawing back the curtains on my heavy sash windows to feast my eyes on the dome of Old Bailey and the gilded blind-folded Goddess with her sword in my one and scales of justice in the other that tops the edifice. Ah, I think, this is London! And I sigh with pleasure all over again. It is nice to be passionate about something in life and for me London is an enduring passion.

Mass at St. Paul’s:

And when I awake so early, I think a great way to start the day is with Mass at the Cathedral especially when it lies only a few steps away and Cynthia and Michael, my friends, are attending. So into one of the side chapels we trooped to listen to a small, intimate mass and to receive Communion before the celebration of the Eucharist ended. Then, before we knew it, we were trooping out again into another golden morning. Yes, the sun was out and the city was flooded not just with light but with warmth as well–warmth that continued to grow as the day progressed and then became rather oppressive in the afternoon.

Brunch in Whitechapel:

But there wasn’t time to be wasted. I had a date in Whitechapel with Jack, one of my favorite young people in London. Jack is the intelligent, creative, sensitive, affectionate, adventurous son of my friends Loulou and Paul. He and I have always hit it off well and during my life in London, he was quite frequently my theater companion. Jack was keen to show off his ‘place’ in the East End and had invited me to partake of breakfast with him.

At about 9. 15, I got off the bus at Whitechapel Tube Station, crossed the street into the lane that houses the London Royal Hospital and found Turner Street tucked in the back. I used the heavy old knocker on the door and then, there was Jack, opening the door for me and leading me into the 1814 Georgian house. And how charming was the home! How adorable! Light streams in through the windows, all the fireplaces are working ones, nooks and niches hide tiny bathrooms, there is a steep flight of wooden stairs that leads into an attic bedroom and in the basement, exposed brick walls contrast with the spiffiness of stainless steel appliances. Outside, in the tiny garden, are herbs and perennial flowering bushes (the handiwork of his gardener mother) in beds that lead to a double-storied shed which Jack, ever the creative spirit, intends to convert into a studio someday. And somehow I know he will!

Breakfast turned out to be a feast for the eyes and the palate: Fruit and Nut Granola with Yogurt and Fresh Berries, a selection of croissants with butter, fig preserves and the most delicious honey from the wilds of the Scottish Highlands (for Jack spent a part of the summer on the Isle of Collonsay refurbishing an old family homestead with his girl-friend Jennifer–I told you he is both adventurous and creative). We munched, we sipped really good coffee, we chatted about everything under the sun including the novel Jack is currently writing. He showed me pictures of the Old Man, a finger of rock that juts out into the sky on a tiny island off the coast of Scotland which he climbed to the summit with his friend Henry. In-between, I got the Grand Tour of the house and an insight into his many pastimes and pursuits. Jack has recently started distilling fragrances from the herbs he grows in his garden and has started producing perfumes. He has promised to concoct a scent exclusively for me and to present it to me for Christmas. I cannot wait! Meanwhile, he promised to email me an account of his walkathon from London to his family home in Suffolk past some of the Home Counties’ unknown old churches, flat pasture land and fields. Is it any wonder that I am enchanted by his company?

Alas, too soon it was time for me to leave him with all the luck in the world for his Masters degree in Asian Studies that he is completing from London University’s School of Oriental and African Studies after which he hopes to find “a proper job”. Meanwhile, I warmly wished him all the luck in the world and whispered a prayer that he might stay as sweet as he is and that all his dreams will come true.

A Muddle with Buses:

Jack escorted me back on the bus heading towards St. Paul’s where Cynthia was supposed to meet me at the bus-stop so that we could proceed with our plans for the rest of the day. But as I alighted from my bus, I watched as Cynthia boarded one behind me! Just as I tried to flag her bus down, it moved away. There was nothing else to do but board the one right after it (which turned out to be a vintage Routemaster). I climbed to the top deck hoping to catch up with her at the bus stop at Trafalgar Square. But, a few yards ahead, I saw that she had alighted from her bus and was walking back! There was nothing to do for it but race downstairs, get off my bus and race behind her along Fleet Street! Well, long story short, we caught up and then boarded a bus together and rode towards Buckingham Palace which we intended to tour together. All was well that ended well!

We got off at Trafalgar, walked at leisurely pace down Mall Pall, passed Clarence House and caught the last bits of the pomp and ceremony of the Changing of the Guards before we arrived at Buckingham Palace. Sunshine poured down warmly over the city and people had peeled off their jackets. I was much too warm in my own layers.

Disappointment at the Palace:

Alas, we had arrived too late in the day. It was almost noon and all the tickets to tour the palace had been issued for the day. Although Llew and I have toured Bucks Palace, fifteen years ago, when it had first opened up to the public, I was keen to see the Sara Burton-designed wedding dress for Kate, Duchess of Cambridge and, apparently, a layer of her wedding cake, both of which are on display this year. But it was not to be, I suppose, and walking towards Grosvenor Place, we caught a bus to Hyde Park to arrive at our next destination.

A Garden in the Serpentine Gallery:

The famous Serpentine Gallery was our next port of call. My NYU colleague Ifeona with whom I’d had breakfast two days ago, had urged me to try to make it to the Hortus Conclusus, a dream garden completely enclosed by the gallery walls but open to the sky–the concept of artist Peter Zumthor who has created a living piece of art in collaboration with landscape artist and designer Piet Oudulf. The perennial garden, a long narrow strip of flower bed, provided a calming oasis in which to rest our feet after our long stroll across Hyde Park and the Albert Memorial to the venue. We took a few pictures and then set out again–Cynthia for home and me to the next item on my agenda.

A Bus Ride to Tottenham Court Road:

Tottenham Court Road that was so much in the news in connection with the looting riots looks none the worse for its recent notoriety. In fact, life is back to such normality that it is hard to believe anything so lethal happened only a few weeks earlier. As always, I enjoyed watching London lurch and falter below me as I surveyed the city and its people from my perch on the upper deck’s picture windows (quite my favorite place in the world from which to people-watch). At Goodge Street in Bloomsbury, I connected with my friend Rosemary who nipped out of work to spend a hour with me over a cappuccino. It was much too hot and I opted for a long cool lemonade instead and while we sat and shot the breeze, she left me with a vintage silver-plated teapot, circus 1920s from Harrods–the perfect little London souvenir. I have visions of sipping my daily afternoon cuppa from it and thinking of my lovely English friend.

Off to Meet Former Colleagues at NYU:

Since Bedford Square was only a hop away, it was a no-brainer to look up my lovely English colleagues there and to survey our expanded new premises in the Georgian block of buildings that surround the private gardens. To my delight, several were around–Yvonne, Ruth, David, Robert, James–and were delighted to see me. Many bear hugs later, they gave me a tour of the new buildings and floors, showed me their new offices, chatted with me about new developments, plans and projects. I was pleased to meet Matt, a professor and London theater-critic, with whom I had attended opening night performances for the press and who had been such good company to me while I had lived in London. Memories of an amazing professional year came flooding back to me as I wandered through the premises and soaked in the nostalgia of those days. Although change is guaranteed to alter the layout of our London campus, I know there will always be a special welcome for me every time I pass through the city; and for that I am very grateful.

A Tour of St. Pancras Old Churchyard:

Then, at Jack’s behest, I set out on my next solo adventure. He had urged me, during breakfast, to take a bus ride towards King’s Cross to the churchyard of Old St. Pancras Church where gravestones proclaiming the last resting place of prominent Londoners are in evidence in the bustling heart of the city. So back on a bus I went towards King’s Cross and the International Terminal for the Chunnel trains to the Continent and with some difficulty, I found the church, on a short hill, with its ornate gates and steps leading up to the main entrance. Peace and quiet prevailed over the premises until I opened the door and entered to find a film crew hard at work at the altar. Lovely funerary monuments and memorial dot the walls of the church which is striking in a rather unfussy sort of way.

Outside, my tour of the churchyard led me to the family burial vault of Sir John Soane, one of my favorite London architects and owner of one of the city’s most fascinating museums, the Soane House at Holborn. Being very familiar with Soane’s work (he designed the Bank of England, the Dulwich Picture Gallery, the stable blocks at Chelsea Royal Hospital and a church on Marylebon Road among other striking works), I was curious to see his own design for his family burial vault. And how simple and unostentatious it was! Yes, Neo-Classical design was plainly in evidence but with a distinctive Soane twist–a curved roof that his disciple George Gilbert Scott borrowed when designing the red telephone booths that have become iconic.

Other interesting gravestones in the cemetery belonged to William Godwin and his first wife, Mary Wollstonecraft (who was one of England earliest and best-known feminists and author of Vindication of the Rights of Women). Her daughter, who married the English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, went on to become a renowned novelist herself and author of Frankenstein. Lovely Victorian memorials lay sprinkled around the churchyard evoking a time when life in London was calmer and quieter and although red buses trundled alongside, it was hard to believe I was in the 21st century.

The Hardy Tree:

Jack had told me to make sure I did not miss The Hardy Tree named after one of my favorite novelists, Thomas Hardy. Long before he became the celebrated author of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Jude the Obscure, Far from the Madding Crowd, etc. Hardy was a mason and an apprentice architect. When the East Midlands Railway line was expected to pass through Old St. Pancras Church (that dates from the mid-1700s), the architectural firm for which Hardy worked was assigned the task of digging up the graves, exhuming the bodies and repositioning the gravestones elsewhere. The enviable task was delegated to Hardy who assembled the old gravestones in a circle, planted an ash tree sapling in their midst and left. Today, over a century later, the roots of the ash tree have pushed the gravestones upwards and have spread themselves among the stones that form a frilly ‘skirt’ all around. It is a very curious sight indeed and one worthy of a dozen photographs.

Off to Run Errands:

Leaving the old world precincts of the churchyard behind, I hopped on to a bus again and joined the throngs outside King’s Cross as I headed to Holborn to buy a supply of some of my favorite pens from Rymans located in my former building. Then, I hopped on to another bus and finally headed home. Surprisingly, despite a day spent almost entirely on my feet, I wasn’t the least bit tired. Instead, I showered and readied myself for my next appointment, dinner with my former neighbors Tim and Barbara. They had suggested Madison, the new rooftop restaurant on London’s newest mall, One New Change.

Off for Dinner to Madison:

Tim and Barbara arrived at Amen Corner at 7. 30 pm (Barbara looking very fetching indeed in the pink kurta from India that I had presented her) and off we walked, just a few meters to One New Change. Londoners who work hard all week long seem to wait for Friday evening when they play equally hard. The restaurant was crowded, buzzing and very noisy indeed. We had 8. 00 pm reservations and knew as soon as we entered that it would severely discourage conversation. Still, we found our table, placed our order and settled down to enjoy a bottle of chilled Chablis, an excellent starter called Potted Parfait–a creamy concoction of foie gras and chicken liver served with Melba toast and redcurrant jelly and, in my case, a nice hunk of sea bass. None of us wanted pudding or coffee, so after a companionable evening spent overlooking the rooftops of London (my hosts had generously offered me a seat with a view that extended as far out as the blue-lit London Eye) and the dome of St. Paul’s that seemed so close you could touch it, we made our way back home on what was an exceptionally warm English evening–clearly Summer’s Last Hurrah.

It had been another lovely day for me in London punctuated by so many of the things I enjoy best in life–art, gardens, churchyards, history–but above all, the company of dearly-loved and well-cherished friends.

A Day Out in Bury St. Edmunds

Sep1

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Bury St. Edmunds

Having awoken at 6. 30 again, I joined Cynthia for the 8 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Michael said the Mass in one of the small chapels where a clutch of folks formed an intimate congregation. When I emerged in the full-blown light of a gorgeous sunny day, my heart sang–it was the perfect day for a day trip. Hurrying through breakfast, I took the Tube to Wembley North where I met my friend Bash who had volunteered to drive me out of town on an excursion to any venue of my choice. After much debate, Michael had suggested Bury St. Edmunds and that was where we zipped off by 10. 30 am.

Bury St. Edmunds lies in the county of Suffolk not too far from Cambridge. Although the drive took almost two hours, the time flew as we chitchatted and caught up. Entering the delightfully large market square that is dominated by a medieval tower gate on one side and an ivy-clad stone hotel on the other, we parked our car and set out to explore the beautiful town.

Mentioned frequently in the novels of Charles Dickens (especially The Pickwick Papers), ‘Bury’ as it is known for short, is associated with the medieval English king Saint Edmund who was martyred in 869 AD and whose remains were buried in the town –from where it derives its name. We entered the Tourist Information Office first for maps and recommendations for places to see and armed with the necessary information, crossed the street to enter the Tower Gateway into the lovely Abbey Gardens.

Strolling Through the Abbey Gardens:

It was hard to believe that it was the first of September as the gardens were in full glorious summer bloom with begonia and fuchsia providing vivid color in geometrically laid-out flower beds sprinkled among manicured lawns. Punctuated by the grey flint stone ruins of the Abbey that was destroyed during Henry VIIIs Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1534, the gardens made a popular picnic spot and scores of people enjoyed sprawling on the lawns on a day that invited one to do just that. Crossing into the churchyard with its spectacular rose gardens and perennial flower beds, we arrived at the entrance of the Cathedral and spent almost an hour exploring the interior.

Exploring the Cathedral:

Although the Cathedral dates from medieval times, the last structure that completed it–a square Gothic tower–was erected only in 2005 and is stunning for its interior paint work. The colors used to paint the ceiling are vivid and wonderful and blend superbly with the much older hammered beam ceiling that features the busts of saints. The altar of this cathedral is notable for the fact that was the assembly point for the barons who had decided to draw up a Charter of Liberties to present to King John–which became the famous Magna Carta of 1215. We encircled the Cathedral and knowing that there was much to see, then made our way into the cloisters that surround another very private garden that was used exclusively by the monks. We munched on the sandwiches I had carried on picnic benches thoughtfully provided and continued to enjoy the sun.

The Church of St. Mary:

Later, we explored the adjoining Church of St. Mary that is of similar vintage and also sports a superb hammered beam ceiling–this one ending in the busts of fabulously carved angels. This church is renowned for being the burial place of Henry VIII’s favorite sister (and his youngest sibling), Mary (after whom he named the Tudor ship The Mary Rose). I read the history of her life on the plaque and the episode in HBO’s The Tudors came startlingly back to me as I recalled that, at 18, she was bethrowed by Henry to the 54 year old Louis, King of France, although Henry well knew that she was in love with one of his courtiers, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Mary agreed to marry Louis provided that Henry would permit her to marry Charles after Louis passed away (I suppose, in that day and age, 54 was a grand old age and she did not expect him to live long). HBO’s version has Mary murder Louis by suffocation (although the plaque did not say so). Henry sent Charles to bring the widowed queen back to England but en route, Charles secretly married Mary, much to Henry’s anger. Both Charles and Mary were banished from the court and lived in disgrace for years (as it was unthinkable for a member of the royal family to marry without the king’s consent). A few years later, Henry forgave them both, restored his relationship with them and they returned to court. However, a few years later, when Mary died, neither her brother Henry (who was busy with the coronation revelry for one of his six wives) nor her husband Charles (who was already wooing his next wife!) attended her funeral and burial in the Abbey Church. She was buried very simply under a stone slab with no mortuary sculpture or decoration of any kind–certainly as the plaque puts it, a most unseemly burial for the daughter of a king, a sister of a king, a wife of a king and a grandmother of queen (her grand-daughter was the poor ill-fated Lady Jane Grey who ruled England for exactly nine days before being beheaded together with her two young sons for no other reason than she was a threat).

Knowing how much I adore Tudor and Elizabethan history, one would not be surprized that I was particularly taken by this church and spent a long while at Mary’s tomb (which occupies a nondescript corner of the altar). There is also a stained glass window that was installed by Queen Victoria who was fascinated by Mary’s life–she is not to be confused with Mary Tudor, first-born daughter of Henry VIII by Katherine of Aragon (known as Bloody Mary) nor her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots.Nor was she ever cannonized and the Church of St. Mary in which she lies buried is not named after her. Overall, I found this church simply lovely for its rich associations with a particularly fascinating period in British History.

Sampling Suffolk’s Oldest Brewery:

Walking further down the quaint narrow streets of the town, we arrived at the Green King brewery, one of the country’s oldest. In the gift shop, we sampled two of the beers produced by the brewery–Old Country Hen and Old Golden Hen, both rather good especially on a warm day. We toured the museum displays and, although we had not arrived in time for a tour of the brewery, received a neat introduction to its working.

A Tour of the Theater Royal:

Right across the street was the Theater Royal, the oldest Regency theater (circa 1810-1820, this was built in 1819 and therefore just escapes the Georgian era) in the country. Today it is maintained by The National Trust and although it is a working theater whose new season actually begins today (September 1), we were given a tour of the exquisite interior by an assistant who proved to be a superb tour guide and had all his facts at his finger tips. The theater was recently restored at a cost of 6 million pounds and the refurbishment is evident. Seats in bright pink match the walls while a Classical painted frieze on the stage front and sides of the boxes form the only decoration. This theater has none of the Victorian grandeur of the London ones but it was charming and one of the nicest things we saw all day.

Back at the market square (where a street market is held every Wednesday and Saturday), we wended our way through the maze of narrow lanes that always comprise medieval market towns to browse in a few stores before we nipped inside The Nutshell, the country’s tiniest pub. Indeed, no more than five men can occupy the place at a time and when Bash stood with his arms outstretched, he touched both sides of the pub. It is aptly named and is a tourist curiosity.Other places of note in Bury are the Mosye Hall where a Norman crypt that we entered forms a modern day gift store for a small museum that is located further inside the building.

We had done Bury justice and having spent almost five hours in the town decided to stop at the Scandinavian Tea Shop for a pot of tea and coffee walnut cake. Then, it was time to get back into the car for the long drive back to London. We got caught up for an hour in awful accident-related traffic near Wembley but we did arrive at Red Sky, a newly-opened shisha lounge at which Bash wanted me to meet two of his friends, a scholarly Bangladeshi named Mohammed and an Indian student who is college-bound soon to the University of Birmingham named Urvi. I spent a good hour with them over a chocolate milk shake and chicken kebab rolls before we got in the car again, stopping off only at Kensington to pick up tickets for an excursion to what Bash called “Bucks Palace” and then we were driving to Amen Court through Central London’s theater district that was garishly illuminated.

Back at Amen Court, Bash stayed for a quick cup of coffee with Cynthia and Micahel before disappearing into the night. Cynthia and I enjoyed some herbal tea before we too called it a day. My unexpected excursion to Bury St. Edmunds turned out to be a really interesting one and I was so glad that Bash did the driving and allowed me a chance to take in its long and varied history.

Visiting My Favorite London Haunts

Aug31

Wednesday, August 31, 2001
London

Visiting a Colleague in Islington:
I spent a really restless night and had difficulty falling asleep until well beyond 2. 30 am. I could hear the bells of St. Paul’s tolling every quarter hour throughout the night and wondered why sleep kept eluding me.

My day began at 6. 30 am when I awoke and started blogging. Then, because I’d made 9. 30 am breakfast plans to meet my NYU colleague Ifeona at her digs for the year, off I went on Bus 25 to Bus 46 to Bus 38 to Roseberry Avenue and the Metropolitan Water Board Building. The entrance and the long wide atrium leading up to the apartments has immense heft and character and makes visiting the building a repeated pleasure. When I was posted in London, my colleague Karen had occupied this apartment. The doorman let me through and, before long, Ifeona and I were munching on the croissants I had carried along and the good coffee she provided. We caught up on our individual summers and plans for the new academic year and then we set off together–she to run an errand and me along Islington High Street and Upper Street to explore a part of London which which I am not too familiar.

Antiquing at Camden Passage:
Before long, I found myself right opposite the famous Camden Passage Antiques Market and, of course, unable to resist a good rummage, off I went to browse through the bric-a-brac scattered throughout the area on make-shift carts or in little stalls. I realize that I have developed a far more discerning eye than I had once possessed for, most of the time, I find my forays into such street markets yielding no desire to buy anything. Most items are in deplorable condition or atrociously over-priced. There were loads of vintage jewelry but I find that I am now able to acquire far better desirable pieces in Connecticut than in England’s antiques stalls.

On the Bus to my GP:
Then, I was leaving Islington behind me and riding the bus to Holborn to go and see my GP at the Holborn Medical Center. Not having expected to stay this extra week in London, I have run out of my medication for the replacement of my thyroid hormone. Since it is imperative that I take it daily, I had no other option than to try to get my British GP to fill in my prescription. I am delighted to say that my doctor recognized me immediately and after some companionable banter, filled himself in on my medical history since last we parted and then gladly refilled my prescription with a British equivalent. Mission Quite Easily Accomplished! It was also fun to walk along the streets that I had often frequented back in the day. Increasingly I feel that I am more at home in Central London now than I am in Bandra which seems to have changed enormously each time I visit Bombay.

Browsing in a Favorite Shop–Persephone Books:
While waiting for my prescription to be filled, I nipped across Lamb’s Conduit Street to one of my favorite shops–Persephone Books. Entering this lovely little place is like taking a trip back in time to the 1930s which, in fact, is the era from which books, only by women, are published in this establishment in beautifully designed paperback editions for 10 pounds each. With their blue grey binding and distinctive end papers (based largely on vintage wallpaper and fabric designs) and accompanied by a matching bookmark, these books are as thrilling to touch and feel as they are to read and I always derive oodles of joy from browsing through the titles and the volumes.

Lunching in a Favorite Restaurant–Hare and Tortoise:
Then, after my consultation with my doctor, I popped into the dispensing pharmacy to pick up my medication and was told to return after ten minutes. It gave me the opportunity to dawdle past the Coram Fields and the Foundling Museum to Brunswick Center, another favorite old haunt of mine, where I went into Waitrose to buy my stock of Ainsley Harriot powdered soups and a Black Forest Gateau (to celebrate the return home of my hosts Cynthia and Michael). Laden with my purchases, I could not resist entering one of my favorite London Oriental restaurants, Hare and Tortoise, where I ordered one of my favorite dishes–the Curry Laksa. This Singaporean speciality comes in a gigantic lacquer bowl and is a meal in itself. Glass noodles and bean sprouts form a base in a fragrant curry-like soup made with coconut milk and turmeric. Chicken, prawns, calamari and squid float around the soup and give it a distinctly fishy flavor that is delectable. Although it is a very substantial soup, I managed to do it justice and filled to bursting, I set out to pick up my medicine, realising to my delight that I am completely over my inhibitions about dining alone in a restaurant. Indeed I was able to do so without batting an eyelid and a jolly good time I had too!

Back Home for Tea with my Hosts:
I was on the bus back home to Amen Court when I got a call from Michael to inform me that he and Cynthia had just reached home. It was 3. oo pm, perfect time for a cuppa, and although I was stuffed, we did cut the Gateau and did enjoy a slice each of what the Germans calls ‘schwartwaldentorte’. And how yummy it was! With lovely lemony tea, I felt fortified enough to go on to my next errand–a bus ride to the East End to say goodbye to my friend Shahnaz who was leaving later in the evening for her return to India.

Off to the East End:
But I overshot my stop, went too far on the bus, had to cross the street to catch a bus in the opposite direction, ended up too late at Shahnaz’s and carried on to Russel Square to meet her daughter Azra outside the British Museum. It took us some effort to connect given that Azra was at Great Russel Street Station and I was at Tottenham Court Road, but connect we did–eventually! The stop gave me a chance to enter another one of my favorite stores–Bury Food and Wine on Bury Street where the salesman is well known to me as I used to buy my tea and biscuits exclusively from him. Of course, I simply had to buy my supplies of Border’s Dark Chocolate Gingers and my Darjeeling Tea and after visiting with him for a few minutes and catching up, off I went on the bus homeward to spend the rest of the evening chatting with my friends.

Cynthia prepared a simple barbecue chicken dinner with boiled potatoes, squash and beans and with more gateau for dessert, it was a very fine, very casual meal, eaten with companionable conversation and the company of Aidan who joined us. We spent the evening watching Britcom re-runs and getting ready for my day trip tomorrow to Bury St. Edmunds which was a place that Michael recommended and where I shall be heading with my friend Bash who has volunteered to do the driving.

Today was a restful, relaxed day and an opportunity to tread in the footsteps of some of my best-loved London haunts and to relive some of the happiest memories of my life in this beloved city.

City Hall Tour, National Gallery, Ralph Fiennes in The Tempest

Aug30

Tuesday, August 30, 2011
London

Brunch at the East End on Eid:
My day began slowly but then it picked up rapid momentum. As Shahnaz was keen that I see Azra’s place before she moves, I hopped on the No. 15 bus and rode all the way through the East End to Limehouse. No sooner did I reach Commercial Street than it became very evident to me that Muslim immigrant London had something to celebrate. Men (I did not see a single woman) were dressed in their Sunday best–beautiful knee length embroidered anchkans with spotless white skull caps. And then it hit me! Of course, it had to be Eid! When I arrived at the Arbor Square bus-stop, past Aldgate and Mansel Street, Azra came out to meet me and lead me to her home–one of those long alleys full of row housing–what the English called ‘terraced housing’ and what the American call ‘town houses’. Inside, narrow staircases open to multi-purpose rooms with the kitchen usually below ground in the what Americans would call the basement. Shahnaz, who was eagerly awaiting my arrival, fed me a breakfast of eggs and a selection of her superb kebabs which she had made in India and brought along to London with her. They were just scrumptious. With toast, I had myself a truly substantial brunch. It was appropriate, I thought, that I had, unwittingly, tucked into Muslim kebabs on Eid!

Off to City Hall:
Then, we were on a bus again headed to City Hall where we intended to take a tour, if one was available. Two years ago, while on a flight to Norway from London, I had shared aircraft space with a certain Simon Reece who worked in City Hall very closely with Mayor Boris on London’s Olympic Planning Committee. Her had told me that City Hall was open to the public–and ever since then, I had hoped to visit it to inspect the visionary work of one of Britain’s best-known contemporary architects, Sir Norman Foster, up close and personal.

Arriving at the Monument:

We alighted from the bus at Monument and walked down short Pudding Lane where the Great Fire of London had started in 1666. Right enough, we found a plaque on the wall of a modern-day building announcing the site of the Baker’s establishment, run by one Thomas Faryner, where the fire had originated. While taking a picture of the plaque, I took one step behind and realized that I was only a few feet from the Monument itself–an obelisk designed and erected by Sir Christopher Wren to commemorate the great fire. I recalled a nugget of trivia: that the height of the Monument is exactly as tall as the structure is from the spot where the fire began, i.e. some 30o odd feet away. A couple of years ago, when my friend Amy Tobin had visited London from New York, we had climbed the Monument, clicked spectacular views of the city from beneath the great pot of flames at the top and been rewarded for our pains with a certificate to state that we had climbed it! It had been one of our little exciting adventures.

On to London Bridge:

Without spending too much time on pictures, we crossed London Bridge (a newer one as the original bridge from the famous song ‘London Bridge is Falling Down’ had burned down in the fire) to the Southbank, took a flight of stairs leading to the Embankment past a very spiffy contemporary glass sheathed building and arrived at City Hall–its unmistakable rounded profile reminds one of a collapsed pudding bowl. Foster’s work is increasingly evident around London. His most notorious work to date is probably ‘Wobbly Bridge”–the Millennium Bridge that connects St. Paul’s Cathedral with the Tate Modern–which actually wobbled dangerously the day it was inaugurated and needed to be closed down for a couple of years until the glitch was sorted!

Well, City Hall was just amazing. The security guard just inside the revolving door put us through the inspection paces and told us that the building could be visited on a self-guided tour. He suggested we walk up the spiral ramp to the second floor,then take the elevator down to the basement. Following his instructions, we almost gave ourselves a crick in the neck as we read. line by line, Nigerian Booker Prize winning poet Ben Okri’s poem “Lines in Potentis” that were seen along the left wall–the right sports glass panes that offer changing views of the city to which Okri offers a memorable tribute in his lines. Foster’s visionary genius is plainly evident–both in the conception that gave the building birth and its execution. Strategically located on the bank of the Thames, it offers stirring views with every turn–one minute you are gazing at HMS Belfast moored on the river, the next you are taken by imposing Tower Bridge and then again, you see the newest addition to the city’s skyline, The Shard, only a few meters away. The idea reminded me very much of the dome atop the Parliament Building in Berlin, also Foster’s handiwork. You climb up a similar spiral ramp there and see yourself in endless recurring mirrors on the opposite side.

When we got to the second floor of City Hall, we were at the Council Chamber used by Boris and his boys and I could imagine all the planning for the coming Olympics that is continuing to take place here. Unfortunately, it was being redecorated as great blue tarpaulin sheets covered most of the seats and the floor. In accordance with instructions, we then took the elevator to the ground floor and alighted on foot one more floor down the ramp which continued to the basement to offer a close view of a satellite image of the city of London reproduced upon a ‘carpet’ on which you can actually walk. It was just fantastic. We identified the O2 first–as the Millennium Dome is called–perched precariously on a sharp bend in the river, the Thames Barrier and then, on the other side, the London Eye and all the other landmarks of this incredible city: Buckingham Palace, the British Museum, St. Paul’s Cathedral–and, of course, the places in which I have lived at different times. For a geography buff such as I am, it is the kind of item that could keep one enthralled all day. We took any number of pictures from different angles and in various corners of the city before hightailing it off to our next adventure. City Hall was truly a revelation and made for a superb morning. We were so glad we went.

Across Tower Bridge to the National Gallery:

Leaving the Embankment via the opposite bank, we walked along beautiful Tower Bridge with its twin Victorian towers and its vistas of the many buildings comprising the Tower of London. Since it was a beautifully clear day, we were able to take several pictures of what I call London’s layered architecture–from the medieval Tower to the 18th century memorial on Tower Hill just beyond it to Sir Norman Foster’s Swiss Re building just beyond that–a building known affectionate as the Gherkin although I have heard Americans refer to it as the Cigar Building!

Riding a Routemaster Bus:

A No 15 bus was conveniently waiting for us at Tower Hill–and get this…it happened to be one of the few vintage Routemaster buses that are still plying on London’s streets. We sprinted for it, made it to the top deck and were reminded of the double decker buses we used to ride in Bombay as kids–alas, they have disappeared, I am told, into the annals of British colonial history in the city of my birth. So, it was lovely to be able to ride a bus that was designed in 1954 long before I was born!

Touring the National Gallery:

We alighted at the last stop–Charing Cross–the monument all spiffed up in time for the Olympics and rid of centuries-worth of dirt, soot and grime. Across the street to the National Gallery we went because, of course, it would be unthinkable for me to come to London and not go to one of my favorite places in the city. A special lecture tour on ‘Food and Feasting’ had just begun and we joined the tour guide Steven Brent as he shepherded us along to a few paintings with food as its main theme. It was inevitable perhaps that he should lead us to Carravaggio’s stirring Supper at Emmaus with its basket of fruit perched precariously on the edge of the table! We went on to the final work in William Hogarth’s series Marriage a la Mode and then on to Gaugain’s still lives to inspect his rendition of exotic fruit in Tahiti. There were a couple of other paintings he showed us, but they now slip my mind.

We took a break at the Cafe downstairs for tea and sustenance–I opted for Coffee and Walnut Cake–and then we were off again, ready to take the next Highlights Tour which was also given by Brent. Assembling in the Sainsbury Wing, we followed the troop through his commentary on a handful of paintings. The ones I can remember now are: The Wilton Dyptych, Sandro Botticelli’s Venus and Mars, Veronese’s Meeting of Alexander the Great with the Family of Darius, A portrait by Hogarth of Three Royal Children, and Renoir’s beautiful canvas entitled The Umbrellas. Brent’s commentary was enlightening and as a tour guide myself, I always look for tips I can glean from others who do work similar to mine.

We spent the next hour as I led Shahnaz and Azra on a tour of some of the museum’s highlights starting from my favorite gallery that presents the work of almost-unknown Renaissance artist Carlo Crivelli and from there to my favorite work in the museum, Pieter de Hooch’s Courtyard of a House in Delft. I showed them Hans Holbein’s The Ambassadors, The Arnolfini Marriage by Jan Van Eyck, the Vermeers in the National’s collection, Rogier van der Weyden’s Magdalen Reading, Seurat’s Bathers at Asnieres, Paolo Uccello’s Battle of San Romano, Hans Hemling’s Tritypch on The Adoration of the Magi, the room featuring works by Peter Paul Reubens, George Stubb’s horse Whistlejacket, Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire and Constable’s The Haywain. I could easily spend the entire day at the National but having arrived at 1. 00 pm, we thought it was time to leave at 5. 45 pm as the Museum would soon be closing for the day. We’d had a fabulous afternoon and I shall try to return to the museum one more time before I leave.

At the Theater Royal Haymarket:

Then, because we were only steps away from the Theater Royal Haymarket, I decided to nip into the Box Office to find out if tickets were available for the evening’s performance of Shakespeare’s The Tempest which stars none other than one of Britain’s greatest living actors Ralph Fiennes as Prospero. I had few hopes as I know it is a sell out, but I also know from experience that there is no harm in trying for a seat! When we were informed that there were either 60 pound seats or 15 pound seats offering “restricted views that obliterated half the stage”, Shahnaz opted out saying that she did not want to spend 60 pounds and did not intend to pass the evening unable to see half the action on stage. I agreed with her and decided to forgo the thrill. Instead, we hopped on to another bus to head homeward.

Food Shopping:

Except that I hopped off at Aldwych, took another bus along Kingsway to Holborn and went food shopping to Sainsbury for my supply of goodies to take back to the States–HP brown sauce, Marmite, Three Fruits marmalade, Frank Cooper’s Oxford Marmalade and loads of Ainsley Harriot’s powdered soups! I also picked up sandwich ingredients for my own meals out here–Gorgonzola cheese, cold cuts, piri-piri flavored hummous, walnut bread, hazelnut yogurt. Yummy! Back home at Amen Court, I made myself a hearty sandwich for dinner, packed it up and decided then and there to return to Piccadilly to buy a restricted view ticket for the show. The opportunity of seeing Fiennes in the flesh was just too hard to miss and so off I went to Haymarket.

Seeing Ralph Fiennes in the Flesh:

How delighted I was when the clerk at the Box Office recognized me from my visit earlier in the evening and discovering that I wanted a single ticket decided to sell me a 60 pound Royal Circle ticket for just 20! Needless to say, I grabbed it, thanked him profusely and then spent a stirring evening in the theater making delightful discoveries. For not just was Fiennes at his thespian best but I recognized so many other well-known British stage and screen stars: Nicholas Lyndhurst (Only Fools and Horses) played Trinculo and Julian Wadham played Antonio, usurping Duke of Milan. It was a lovely evening made more marvelous by beautifully executed set design and costuming–Ariel’s final song “Where the Bee sucks…” was lyrical perfection and the Epithalamion scene featuring Juno and the other goddesses was brilliant.

I took the bus back at 10. 30, was home at 10. 45 and was thrilled to bits with myself that I had, on impulse, decided to take the plunge and acqueise to buy not-so-good seats for, in the end, I had an excellent spot and a superb theatrical experience for practically no money at all!

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