Tag Archive | Tower of London

Traipsing Through The Tower of London and Haunting Hampstead on Halloween Eve

Oct31

Sunday, October 30, 2016

London

 

Morning Rush:

Since clocks went back an hour in the middle of the night, I had re-set my own wrist-watch before I dropped off last night. Still, despite getting an extra hour to blog, review my upcoming travel plans and make my To-Do List for the coming week, plus preparing for the talk I will give at the University of Leeds on Wednesday, time flew and before I knew it, I was jumping up to have my breakfast, take a shower and still make it for the 9. 15 am Mass.

I was off on the Tube to the Church of St. Peter in Chains (St. Peter Ad Viculum) which is one of the Royal Chapels as it is attached to the Tower of London. Not only did this excursion represent my desire to attend Mass at a different church each Sunday but it would be a good way to spend a Saturday morning–reviewing, once again, the bloodiest aspects of British History in the place in which all the drama has unfolded over the centuries.

The journey took longer than I thought as I had to get all the way to the East and Tube trains are less frequent on weekends. The morning was extremely foggy and as I walked–no, almost ran–from Tower Hill Tube station into the Tower of London (past the guards who let you in without a ticket if you are going to Mass in the church), I noticed that the bridge posts of Tower Bridge had become invisible and that the tops of the Gherkin and the Shard were lost–it was almost as if they had never been built. For a little while, pre-Modern London was all that could be seen and it was eerie.

Mass, as always, was a lovely service with a priest who seems to be a born raconteur. He preached a very thought-provoking sermon on the ‘Lesson’ as Anglicans call it: Render Unto Ceasar what is Ceasar’s, etc…There were about 25 people in attendance, mostly regulars although there were a few visitors such as myself. The priest greeted us warmly at the church door at the end of Mass. A Yeoman Warder (Beefeater) stood guard at the door throughout the service and escorted the Lector to the podium and escorted him back to his seat when he finished–I would love to have a Yeoman Warder escort me back and forth when I am a Lector in my church–talk about pomp and ceremony. Well!!!

After Mass, I waited in the Tower yard for about fifteen minutes as I listened to the harsh cawing of the Tower Ravens–a protected lot who eat 170 gms of meat each day! Digest that fact, y’all! These are the only ‘wild animals’ still in the Tower–at an exhibit that I looked at later, I discovered that the Tower used to be something of a zoo until the end of the 19th century when it was closed forever. It seems that English kings were fond of having exotic animals from around the world brought to them as gifts which they kept in the Tower. They often indulged in the spectacle of animal fights and visitors to the Tower often brought little cats and dogs with them to feed to lions, tigers, etc. when these animals were kept in captivity here! I do not believe that I have been to this section of the Tower before and I found it quite difficult to view. However, in this same section, a display of some of the ceramic poppies that had filled the moat in 2014 in commemoration of a centenary of the Great War, did bring me to tears. It was a brilliant way to recognize the fallen.

I also went into the Torture Chamber for the first time–or at least I do not recall being there before–where I saw notorious instruments of torture such as the Rack and the Scavenger’s Daughter (also known as the Skeffington’s Irons). While the rack stretched the body, the latter compressed it and was, we were told, far more painful that the former. There were also Manacles used to hang prisoners by their wrists for long periods of time. Seriously—I now know why I cannot remember being here before. Such awful atrocities are best forgotten.

In the White Tower, I saw the famed Line of Kings exhibit with its assortment of armory and model horses–again, not quite my cup of tea although this section, understandably, is always crawling with kids.

The piece de resistance, of course, of a visit to the Tower of London, is the building containing the Crown Jewels and since I went there, first thing, I was able to appreciate them without the milling crowds that came later–because, believe me, this place is mobbed. I got a good look again at the Cullinan Diamonds (both I and II) and the Koh-I-noor, of course, which India keep demanding back from time to time. In addition to the crowns–my favorite is the little diamond one that Queen Victoria had specially made for her after Albert’s death to go with her widow’s veils–there is loads of silver plate, gold articles used at the Coronation services, massive plates used on Maundy Thursday to distribute alms in an age-old custom that the Queen still follows as well as Baptismal fonts used at royal christenings. There are scepters and orbs as well and all the regalia that goes with being a real Queen ever so often–as opposed to dressing in the ordinary clothing of mere mortals at various opening ceremonies for most of the year. I enjoyed it all, I have to say, and recalled similar visits with Llew and Chriselle over the years–and I missed them both, in the process.

When I had my fill of the Tower and its many buildings, including the Tudor Wing where the beheadings took place–today represented by a very nice crystal pillow and a dedication to those who lives were cut short by the brutality and excesses of past ages–I saw the building in which the two little princes were held and probably murdered as well as the room in which the imprisoned Walter Raleigh wrote his History of the World. It was quite refreshing to get these lessons again in British History and I was glad I went.

I have to say that the day was quite wretched–not only was it sunless but it was fog-ridden and really cold and I felt horribly under-clad. It was worse by the river where the fog seemed to creep right into my bones. A hot chocolate was urgently called for and I found the Armory Café where I ordered one and ate it with the chocolate cupcake I had carried with me–which, by the way, was delicious. It was probably the first gluten-free product I have ever eaten (bought for a guest at my Tea party yesterday).

On to Hampstead:

It was not the best of days to visit Hampstead which is one of my favorite parts of London, but I guess I had little choice. If I wait for perfect days to see all the places I wish to traverse, I will go nowhere in England! I took the Tube from Tower Hill and in about 45 minutes, I was at Hampstead where, being far away from the river, the cold was much less noticeable. The fog had cleared somewhat and although it was grey and dull, it didn’t seem as terrible as it had been at the Tower–where, the weather, seemed really appropriate on the Eve of Halloween.

I spent some time in the thrift shops at Hampstead and indulged myself in a lovely necklace from Zara that I picked up, unbelievably, for 4 pounds! Now you know why I haunt these charity shops. This find resided in a shop run by Mary Portas who has become known as the Queen of Charity Shopping in the UK and who has set up these shops with proceeds that go directly to Save The Children and other charities. So, not only do I get bargains, but I am contributing to alleviating suffering in the world as well! After I had done the rounds of a few on the High Street and in side lanes, I walked through another favorite lane–Flash Walk–where a few consignment and antiques shops called my name. I almost bought a beautiful set of bisque porcelain vases but there were a few chips in them and the thought of transporting them to the US put me off although the price was perfect. So I left them behind and walked on.

Visiting Burgh House and the Ribeiro Exhibition:

There are several houses in Hampstead that are very well-known and that I have visited on past trips: Keats’ House, Kenwood House, Fenton House, Goldfinger’s House, etc. But I had never been to Burgh House (where entry is free) and which is one of the ‘London Shh’ group of historic homes. On doing some research, a few days ago, I found out that there would be an exhibition by an Indian Goan artist named Lancelot Ribeiro on after October 26. That’s why I kept a visit to Burgh House for this weekend.

I was very fortunate to find the house really quickly on a side street. It is only open from a few days a week and is known for its café. Being that it was so cold, I was amazed to see people sitting on garden furniture outside the café. Inside, the house is an 18th century mansion in Queen Anne style. It was one of the first mansions to come up in Hampstead which was then known as a spa town of sorts for tis medicinal wells–hence, the names of roads such as Well Walk, etc. It was built in 1704 for Henry and Hannah Sewell and has now been left to the nation. It retains its beautiful stairway, its ornamented fireplaces and mantels and its crown molding in every room. Today, the house is used for art exhibitions although the top floor is a lovely museum recording Hamsptead life through the centuries.

Viewing the Ribeiro Exhibition:

The Ribeiro exhibition was deeply moving for me as I was able to identify with a lot of the items on display. Lancelot was the half-brother of the far more famous Indian Goan artist, Francis Newton Souza (known as F. N. Souza) who made his home in New York. Ribeiro arrived in the UK in 1953–the same era as the vast numbers of Anglo-Indians whom I have interviewed for my forthcoming book. Letters written by his mother to him from Bombay, his Indian passports, his passage on the Mooltan steamer to the UK, his traveling iron, the wooden toys he fashioned for his daughter Marsha and other memorabilia are lovingly displayed in an exhibition that was curated among other people by her. I had the pleasure of meeting and chatting with Marsha. She informed me that Ribeiro’s fame is now growing and that although in the small space only a few of his smaller works could be shown, there will be on-going exhibitions at the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum plus talks on the artist, etc. in the year to come. She also invited me to a lecture at the British Museum this coming Sunday to be followed by a reception at the Grosvenor Hotel. Since I am in the city next Sunday, I will probably attend.

Ribeiro’s work shows drastic changes in style through the decades. There are very modernist Abstract paintings of Bombay, there are feathered watercolors of Hampstead Heath where he often walked and picnicked with his family, there are geometricals, there are self-portraits and portraits of his family members, there are religious paintings and representations of Christ borne out of his Indo-Portuguese Catholic background–there is really a wealth of material to engage the viewer and to get to know the late artist who died in 2010.  Chatting with Marsha, I was offered more insights into his life and work and came away feeling deeply moved by it all.

Back Home for a Quiet Evening:

I was seriously exhausted by the time I left Hampstead. There was still light (as we’d put clocks back, remember?) and I’d have loved to have rambled around some more in some of my favorite little lanes in the area. But I was simply too bushed. My lower back ached and I urgently had to get back home to relax. I also took one wrong train when I made a connection, but retraced my steps soon enough and got home within the hour.

Once home at 6.00 pm, I simply threw myself on my bed and had a half hour’s nap. I awoke to Facetime with Llew for about half an hour and then sat down to have something to eat. I had lasagna (from my freezer), aloo gobhi and some Tandoori Fish (also from my freezer). As you can see, I am trying again to finish up everything in my fridge as ten days from now, I will be moving out of this lovely place.

I watched the third part of Tutankhamun as I ate. I have become hooked to this superb show starring Max Irons (Jeremy’s son) in the role of Howard Carter with Sam Neil as Lord Carnavaron. It is simply spell-binding and although I know the bare bones of the story of the discovery of the tomb, I have to say that I am learning a lot about the official political and personal squabbling that occurred in the process.  This is really great TV, in my opinion (all shot on location). As I watched, I could hear the explosion of occasional fireworks as there are a lot of Hindus in Ealing and with Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights, being celebrated today, there was general festivity in the air.

It was about 10.00 pm when I fell asleep after what had been a truly tiring day. I seem to have overdone it after a long time and I  will definitely need to rest tomorrow.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

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.

Au Revoir France! Last Day in London…and Arrival Home in the USA

Jul30

Thursday, July 30, 2009
Paris and London

Our very last day in Paris had arrived—where had our holiday gone? Awaking to a continental breakfast (cereal and French roast coffee), Llew and I set out to cover the last bits and pieces of Paris that we had not yet seen.

The Dome Church of Les Invalides:
Our first stop was the domed Church of Les Invalides where, Jack informed us, his daughter Julia had been baptized. This church is part of the much larger complex called the Musee de L’Armee and its extremely decorative dome is easily visible from many parts of the city to whose skyline it adds a definite glow. This is also the church in which Napoleon’s remains were interred after his death under exile on the island of Elba. The tomb is grand but can only be viewed with a hefty ticket which includes entrance to the vast museum complex (16 euros). Since we did not have the time for such an extensive visit, we contented ourselves with a peak into the highly ornate Baroque altar of the church, encircled the beautiful gardens outside that offered peeks of the tip of the Effiel Tower and then walked a very long walk to what Lonely Planet describes as the best chocolatier in Paris.

At Cacao et Chocolat:
The walk was just perfect and I realized afresh (as I did in London so often) that for me one of the greatest pleasures of traveling is walking through random streets of a city to absorb the daily life of the people far from the tourist hordes. As we passed by small neighborhood parks, enticing antiques shops and then the huge department store called Le Bon Marche (into which we stepped to take in its unique architecture that reminded us very much of the old Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay), we finally arrived in the area just past St. Germaine de Pres and the Latin Quarter and found Cacao et Chocolat, a very small and very exclusive artisinal boutique whose aroma was deeply appetizing.

Now Llew and I are both chocoholics; so for us arriving at this destination was a bit like arriving at the Gates of Paradise. After our long and very stimulating walk, our appetites had been whetted for some good European chocolate. I informed the very cheerful and friendly salesman that we had come in search of his shop from the recommendation in Lonely Planet. I asked him what he would recommend for seasoned chocolate lovers and he suggested a cup of their signature Hot Chocolate which we could enjoy at their tasting ‘bar’.

Yessss! This was Paradise indeed. The menu was handed over to us to peruse and I, having drunk the exquisite hot chocolate with chilli at Fassbinder and Rausch in Berlin (another great international chocolatier), decided to try the Hot Chocolate Epicee–with mixed spices (cinnamon, star anise, nutmeg, among others) while Llew decided to play it safe and go for the plain version (apparently the most popular of the lot). All the while, as we sipped this elixir of the gods, the salesman kept plying us with chocolate to taste from their flavors of the past and present months to the truffles for which they are known to the tiny dark and milk chocolate Florentines that we kept popping in our mouths to attain chocolate nirvana! We walked away from the shop, a good hour later, fully fortified for some more sight seeing and with a bag of dark chocolate studded with toasted hazelnuts in our firm grip. I have discovered that in my year-long travels I have stock piled chocolate from every capital city in Europe and a large part of our baggage back home to the US will consist of these irresistible gourmet treasures that I have purchased from master chocolatiers.

Off to see the Pantheon:
Then, we were off in the metro once again, to see the Pantheon, another one of Paris’s landmarks, also characterized by a gigantic dome. We arrived at the splendid Neo-Classical structure, the great handiwork of Jacques-Germaine Sufflot, who wished to recreate the grandeur of ancient Greece and Rome through this structure that was intended originally as a shrine to Paris’ patron saint, Genevieve.

It was King Louis XV who had vowed that if he ever recovered from a debilitating illness, he would build a magnificent church to Saint Genevieve but the church soon morphed into a place of honored burial for some of France’s most revered thinkers, writers and philosophers, architects of the French Revolution and of the intellectual thought and ideas for which the city became renowned. The monuments, down in the Crypt, tell the story of the vast influence that these figures have had on the history of the city—they include such names as those of Voltaire, Rousseau, Victor Hugo, Émile Zola, Jean Moulin, Marie Skłodowska-Curie, Louis Braille, Jean Jaurès and Soufflot, its architect.

Llew and I were really lucky to discover (after he bought his ticket for 6 euros as my Met ID card let me in for free) that there was a guided tour that would be starting soon. This would take us up the 268 steps to the very Dome for 360 degree views of Paris on what was a spectacular day. So, you see how we lucked out? Though I did not get up to the Tour Effiel (which would only have taken me to the first level anyway), here we were at the Pantheon able to avail of the exact same thrills—only from a different vantage point.

Of course, we joined the tour right away and began our steep ascent to the top. We stopped en route at two different levels to take in the extraordinary mosaics and the staggering dimensions of the interior—the lofty nave, the Corinthian columns, the many beautiful frescoes depicting the life of St. Genevieve that covered the walls and ceiling. It was really astounding.

And then there we were—on the roof—easily able to spot the many Parisian landmarks that we had visited ourselves over the past few days. There was Notre-Dame dominating the Ile de la Cite with the spire of Sainte Chappelle very close to it. There was the towering mountain on which stood the Church of Sacre Coeur at Montmartre. There was part of the great arch that defines the new area known as La Defense. There was the great expanse of green that singled out Pere Lachaise Cemetery which was to be the next stop on our sight seeing tour of the day. And there, of course was the Dome of Les Invalides Church and the Tour Effiel. What a fabulous time we had taking in the uniform construction of the city that grew and grew over the centuries under the loving hands of some of the world’s most talented architects. It was such a thrilling experience to see these vistas spread out before us and though we were running short of memory space in our camera, we managed to make room for a few stunning shots.

Once we got down again to base level, we began our exploration of the interior with its monumental memorials to such French sons as Diderot and then we descended into the Crypt, quite taken by the architectural elements that lay beneath holding up this colossal structure.

At Pere Lachaise Cemetery:
Then, we were off again…this time taking the metro to faraway Pere Lachaise Cemetery where so many well-known persons associated with the city lie buried. I was quite amazed by the vast size of this cemetery which continues to be used as a place of burial. Though there are detailed maps available at the entrance that lead visitors to the tomb stones of those legendary figures whose final resting places they might most wish to see, we did not have one with us and used the rather sketchy version available in my DK Eye Witness Guide Book. We also realized quickly enough that we could not afford the time to linger too long in the cemetery and would have to be choosy about which graves we would visit.

For the next hours, we climbed the many stairs that took us further and further up the hill upon which the cemetery is spread out, seeing along the way, the monuments that remember such famous French writers as Balzac and such controversial English writers as Oscar Wilde (whose tomb carries a beautiful piece of sculpture by Jacob Epstein—alas, so badly defaced by the anti-gay visitors to his grave) and the more contemporary Jim Morrison of The Doors fame whose tombstone records his full name as being James Douglas Morrison. The funerary sculpture that dates from the 1700s to the present date made very interesting viewing for it taught us a tremendous amount about changing trends in mortuary design. We did have a very interesting couple of hours in this space and were very tired when we finally decided to leave so as not to miss our Eurostar train later that evening.

Return Home to London:
We found a nice boulangerie along the way that allowed us to grab sandwiches which we then ate on the metro on our return to the Champs Elysses. There, we said our goodbyes and many Thank-yous to Julia and grabbed our bags and left for the last ride in the metro to the Gare du Nord where we were scheduled to board the 7. 19 pm train back to London.

Everything went smoothly as we passed through Customs and Immigration and boarded our train. We watched the French countryside whoosh past us as we sipped a glass of red wine and nibbled at crisps and then we were under the English Channel and emerging in Kent in England. Before we could say Eurostar, our train was pulling into St. Pancras International while there was still ample daylight left in London.

On the 63 bus heading home to Farringdon, we found it hard to believe that our dream vacation in London and France had come to an end. It would be memorable for several reasons and we were astonished when we thought about how much we had packed into it—from seeing Helen Mirren on stage to watching the birth of a new calf, from becoming acquainted with computer technology in modern dairy farming to making an emergency visit to a French hospital, from admiring the medieval ingenuity of female embroiderers at Bayeux to walking in the footsteps of unnamed American heroes on the battle-ravaged beaches of Normandy, from being dazzled by the spectacle of the Lido to sipping tea and nibbling pastries at Laduree, we had done so much on this trip.

At Sainsbury, I finally managed to top up cell phone minutes, bought milk for our last breakfast in London and then turned the key into the Farringdon loft where we ate a dinner based on leftovers in the fridge. We then turned our attention to the pressing task of concluding our packing for the USA to which, unbelievably, we would be headed the next afternoon.

Friday, July 31, 2009
London

Where our morning slipped to I have not a clue! All I knew was that I awoke by 6. 30 am being too keyed up to sleep any longer. It was the last time I would be awaking in London (for a very long time) and I savored the sensation for a bit before deciding I needed to get going.

Anyone seeing the state of our room that morning would never have dreamed that just a few hours later we could possibly have packed everything away and left our room and en suite bathroom in pristine condition. But bit by bit, suitcase by suitcase, weighing each item carefully as we added it to our bags and managing somehow to pack well the many breakable china and glass items I had purchased from the many charity shops and antiques stores I had scoured in the UK, we worked together to get everything in.

About half way through the morning, I realized that there was no way all my ‘stuff’ would fit into our four suitcase allowance. “That’s it”, I said to Llew. “We’re going to the Post Office and mailing all this off”. Thankfully, I had retained a few good boxes and I piled them with the last-minute things we had used such as our bed linen and down pillows as well as a number of books as Llew helped me tape them down. I also had the foresight to save a few of the address labels I had printed out weeks ago when I had mailed off my other stuff.

So there we were, on our hands and knees, assembling these boxes together. Meanwhile, I was juggling phone calls to the shippers to get shipping estimates, to the cab driver to order us a cab at 12. 30 and a host of other things that needed to be all tied up. We did manage to find the time to eat breakfast (toast with peanut butter and coffee). I cleaned the fridge and freezer and left notes for Loulou and Paul and then at 12. 25 pm, Llew began to stack all our baggage in the elevator to take it downstairs. What a huge help he was to me and how grateful I was to have him there to get me through the scramble at the eleventh hour to make everything fall into place. And we managed to do all this without a single impatient word to each other!!! Now that was an achievement!

In fact, what saved the day for me was that I had forgotten to put my writst watch back one hour after returning from Paris late last night. So at one point, when I thought it was 10.00 am, it was actually 9.00 am–omigawd! How thrilled I was to have that extra hour and how smoothly everything went from that point on. What an extra hour can do in a stress-fraught life, I thought!

We had a bit of a rucous with the cab, however, for the large-sized vehicle we had ordered to get all our baggage to Heathrow did not show up and when we called the cab company, it appears that there was a screw-up at the station. However, magically, another mini-cab happened to be cruising down our street (yes, just like that!)) and John, the driver, sensing our distress, stopped to inquire if he could assist. Next thing you know, he was piling our baggage into his shiny grey BMW and taking us to Heathrow by a most unusual route past Pall Mall and Buckingham Palace and then on to Kensington past the V&A and the Museum of Natural History. I cannot even begin to tell you how badly I wanted to weep for I had major withdrawal symptoms from this city that I have always loved but which, during this one unforgettable year in my life, had actually been my HOME!

Then, we were at Heathrow and being dropped off at Terminal 4 where we made the discovery that my Delta Airlines flight left from there while Llew’s American Airlines flight left from Terminal 3! We said our goodbyes knowing we would next hook up at Kennedy airport and he left to take the Airtrain to his terminal.

I went through security in five mintues and then was left with three whole hours to do some duty free shopping–except that Terminal 4 has a pathetic duty free area and within ten minutes I had seen all there was to see and, feeling deeply frustrated, found a free port that allowed me to use my laptop which was in my hand baggage. So I settled myself down and began hammering away at my keyboard and got a whole lot of writing done until my gate was announced and I took off!

London was bathed in golden sunlight as I took my last airborne looks at it. Then, we were soaring higher and higher into the clouds and land became invisible. I began chatting with my companion, a student of Art History at London’s Goldsmith College named Leigh, who was so excited that he was going to New York for the first time in his life. He proved to be good company through most of the flight during which I watched four movies! Yes, can you believe it?
Having watched just one movie (Slumdog Millionnaire) for the entire year that I spent in London, I saw four movies on my way out–as if making up for my long film famine–Second Chance Harvey (with Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman), Duplicity (with Clive Owen and Julia Roberts), New Girl in Town (with Rene Zellweiger and Harry Connick Jr.) and He’s Just Not That Into You (with everyone in Hollywood under the age of thirty–make that forty as I heard that Jennifer Anniston just turned 40).

Well, at JFK, darkness had fallen already at 8. 30 pm (9. 30 by the time I cleared Immigration, picked up my baggage and reconnected with Llew. And yes, the Immigration Officer did actually say to me “Welcome Back!”). Llew arrived about ten minutes later to the Passenger Pick-Up area in the rented car that he had picked up a half hour earlier (as his flight had landed before mine),

And then we were on the Van Wyck Expressway headed for the Whitestone Bridge and for Connecticut–and everything looked so familiar and yet so strange. All the highways seemed to have expanded during my absence and I thought to myself, “Welcome Back to Reality, Rochelle!” So I forced myself to burst out of my British bubble and using Llew’s cell phone made my first call in the USA to Chrissie–unfortunately, I only got her answer phone.

It was 10. 30 pm (exactly an hour after we set out from JFK) that we pulled into our driveway at Holly Berry House while Southport slumbered. Because we were tired and sleepy, we entered our home with only our carry-on bags, leaving the rest of the suitcases in the car to be hauled indoors in the morning.

It was about 11.00 pm when we fell off to sleep…

…and with that I had left Rochelle’s Roost in London behind me and was well and truly back in Rochelle’s Roost in Connecticut!

PS: A Million Thanks to all those who followed my blog faithfully through the past year. When I surface again from under all my unpacked suitcases and boxes, I shall put in a few more entries about the Highlights of my Year in the UK…

—until then, I shall say to you, in the finest traditions of the UK, CHEERS Mate!

Highlights of the Louvre, Notre Dame and the Ile de la Cite

Jul30

Friday, July 24, 2009
Paris

We awoke refreshed from our long slumber in a city that slept, it seemed, quietly with us. Sheltered in the serene cocoon of our airy bedroom, we were clueless to the life that teemed around us just a street away on the Champs Elysses. With everyone else away for the day already, we showered and dressed and decided to spend the day at perhaps the most challenging museum in the world—the legendary Louvre.

We grabbed breakfast to go (croissants and pain au chocolat) from the Monoprix that was so conveniently located just around the corner from our building. Then, we were in the tubes that take commuters around the city in a jiffy and before long found ourselves at the Louvre entering I.M. Pei’s glass Pyramid that has added its distinctive profile to the city’s skyline.

In the metro, both Llew and I noticed separately how much Paris has changed since we were last tourists in this city. The demographics have altered considerably and white people are now most decidedly in the minority in the public transport systems that skirt the city. We were struck by the large numbers of South Asians now in Paris—most obviously Punjabis as was evident from the language they spoke—as also the vast numbers of Maghrebain (North African immigres) who have made the city their home. There is also none of the style and glamor we once associated with the word ‘Parisian’. I can remember, not too long ago, gazing with envy upon women in the metro each of whom seemed to have stepped out of Vogue—each was so impeccably made up and put together (those famous French foulards (scarves) wrapped a dozen different ways around their elegant shoulders. I can recall men with a shock of hair falling stylishly over their broad foreheads as they exuded chic suavity with every carefree stride they took. Where have all these Parisians gone? I lamented their passing and felt sorry that the city, indeed the country, seemed to have lost an essential aspect of its distinguished character. Llew reminded me that this phenomenon is called ‘Globalization’ and he was right. The downside of globalization is that while it has made us far more homogeneous than we ever used to be, it has, alas, robbed us of the distinctive merits that gave each of us a national and cultural identity that was uniquely our own.

As for the B.O. it was just unbearable. Neither London or Paris have yet air conditioned the cars of their underground systems and in summer, the ride is most uncomfortable. While I did not hotice B.O. anywhere in London, the stench in Paris is just awful, not to mention the discomfort of riding in jampacked cars with a motley lot of people, so many of whom seem to have forgotten what a shower is! I think this was one of the most unappealing parts of our visit to Paris. Clearly, there is a huge market for deodorant in France and if there is an entrepreneur out there who is reading this, believe me, this is an opportunity waiting to be grabbed.!

On arriving at the Louvre, I was gratified to see that my Met Museum ID card stood me in good stead and got me free entry. Llew bought his ticket and after grabbing the floor plan, we began our daunting exploration of the museum, skipping the hour-long Highlights tour in English which we had taken the last time we were here and deciding to follow instead the Highlights marked out by the Museum’s curators. Despite the fact that both of us are accustomed to expansive museums, this one certainly astounded even us as we tried to negotiate our way through the Richelieu, Sully and Denton wings. Though we did manage to complete all the highlights detailed by the floor plan, it took us several hours and but for a light café luncheon (roast chicken for Llew, a quiche lorraine for me), we soldiered on moving from one item to the next without needing to spend too much time and energy getting from one to the other. We began our exploration at 10. 45 am and were only done at 4. 45 pm.

Among the Highlights I recall as being especially notable were:
1. The Winged Victory of Samotrace—an ancient Greek carved stone statue that stood on the hull of a ship, a very early sort of figurehead. Excavated sometime in the middle of the last century but with its arms still missing. Marvelous draping of a gauzy fabric around the thighs of the woman that seems to render stone transparent.
2. The Venus de Milo: Another armless and topless marble female sculpture of a woman who stands today in two pieces that are riveted together with marble struts.
3. La Giaconda, better known as the Mona Lisa: The woman with the Mystic Smile upon whom volumes have been written. Always surprises first-time viewers by its small size. The cordoned area around it grows more distant with every visit I make here. Still the museum’s largest attraction.
4. The Wedding Feast at Cana by Paolo Veronese: Perhaps one of the largest paintings in the world, this canvas stuns by its sheer size. It happens to be in the same room as the Mona Lisa and, therefore, gets as many visitors. This room is also full of magnificent works by Titian and Tintoretto among other great Renaissance masters—(the Ghirlandaios are the best I’ve seen outside Florence) but so few of the visitors actually looked at these. Most just did the cursory walk around the Mona Lisa and left.
5. The Seated Scribe: A terracotta cast from ancient Greece that shows a scholar seated in the lotus position. Brilliant use of glass inserts for his eyes that make them look amazingly real.
6. Edouard Manet’s Le Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe (Luncheon Picnic on the Grass): Considered extremely scandalous when it was first exhibited at the Salon des Beaux Arts because it presents a female nude who gazes directly at the viewer while seated in the company of two fully clothed men.
7. Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa: This is a representation of a real event in history in which several survivors of a shipwreck attempted to save themselves by constructing a raft that left them afloat for weeks on end.
8. Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People: This quintessential French image was the inspiration for the French Revolution of 1789 which led to the storming of the Bastille and toppled the monarchy. It presents Liberty in the guise of a determined woman leading gun-totting revolutionaries towards a distant goal. It always reminds me of Victor Hugo’s novel Les Miserables.
9. Leonardo da Vinci’s Virgin of the Rocks. There is a version of this painting in the National Gallery in London and they are both extremely lyrical and, therefore, extremely moving.
10. The Marly Horses in the Cour Carre: These horses once graced the four pillars that support the bridge that leads from the Tour Effiel to the Palais de Chaillot. They present men and horses in varied poses in abundant realistic detail. They have been replaced on the bridge by plaster cast replicas.
11. The Code of Hamurabi: This ancient Babylonian Code of law is perhaps the world’s first known legal system. Despite being harsh and ruthless (“an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”), it laid down a system of government that prevented anarchy and became the model for every other legal code ever constructed. It is written in cuneiform script on a black basalt column which is carved at the top with the motifs of a judge dispensing his verdict and sentence.
12. The Imprisoned Slave by Michelangelo: So called because these studies in marble show the progress of the master’s technique and creativity. The slaves (there are two of them standing side by side) emerge from the block of Carrara marble with which Michelangelo worked so as to cause them to rise out of them as the sculpture was completed.
13. Odalisque by Ingres: This stylized portrayal of the back of a nude woman became the prototype for so many paintings of this nature—Manet’s Olympia, in the Musee d’Orsay is inspired by this work.
14. Napoleon’s State Apartments: Since I had never been to this part of the Louvre before, it was quite a revelation to come upon this series of magnificent rooms that glowed and glittered under the blaze of colossal crystal chandeliers, gilded candleabra and other objects d’art that fill it. These rooms beggar description and the best way to do them justice would be to say that if one has no time to visit the Palace of Versailles, this is the best alternative, being right in the city of Paris. Having visited Versailles twice, I can say that they come close if indeed they do not surpass the grand chateau in its wealth of decorative detail. Definitely eye candy of the most exotic kind.

Well, needless to say, we were exhausted after our perusal of the Louvre and dropping with fatigue could barely find the energy to make our way out. It was imperative that we sit somewhere for a long time and what nicer place than the banks of the Seine on a really warm and cheerful afternoon? Well, we walked past the many bridges of Paris (I was saddened to see that Samaritaine, that great institution of French conspicuous consumption, has closed indefinitely) and arrived at the Ile de la Cite where we thought we’d visit the Church of Notre Dame on its own little island. The square outside the church was bustling and as we moved through the throngs and as we arrived at the superbly carved portals of the church, I pulled out my DK Eye Witness Guide to Paris. We spent the next half hour examining this church that has become so famous in literature (domain of poor old Quasimodo in Hugo’s great novel) and film. Inside, the church’s vast dimensions, built in classic Gothic style with towering columns in the nave and flying buttresses on the outside, made for some marvelous viewing as did the Rose Window and other stained glass ornamentation within.

Walking along the Ile de la Cite, we passed by the Palais Royal and saw the entrance to the Church of Sainte Chapelle (which is also on my list of things to do in Paris on this trip) but it was close to closing time and visitors were no longer allowed to enter.

It was time to think of returning home to another one of Julia’s excellent dinners—she had used the internet to create another wonderful vegetarian dish using aubergines, mozarella cheese, red peppers and a tomato coulis that was all stacked up like the pastry known as the ‘Napoleon’. I put my own shoulder to the wheel and produced Chicken Parmesan using strips of chicken breast and breading them generously before coating with Parmesan shavings and shallow frying them. Indeed, it was a wonderful dinner, launched upon by glasses of wonderful Bordeaux that we shared with the Andersons. Jack kept converstion both stimulating and entertaining by telling about his day and the folks with whom he liases as part of his work.

Because our rambles had rendered us exhausted, we did go to bed rather early once again and tried to catch up on our lost sleep of the previous couple of days.

In Oxford Again! Giving A Lecture at Exeter College

Jul30

Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Oxford

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Windsor Castle and Helen Mirren as Phedre at the National

Jul30

Monday, July 21, 2009
Windsor and London

With Llew on vacation, we are taking it easy in the mornings—waking late, breakfasting at leisure, showering and dressing as if we have the entire day ahead of us—which we do! However, I did want to make a day of it in Windsor; so without wasting too much time, we took the Tube to Paddington to catch one of the commuter trains to Slough for a change to Windsor.

The weather gods smiled upon us, bestowing sunny skies and a very comfortable temperature as we walked from the station to the ramparts of the Castle. How different the place seemed with teeming tourists everywhere. When we were last here together in November of last year (or was it March of this year?—it is so difficult to keep track!), the place was less crowded. Yet, today, with the sun warming the backs of so many enthusiastic sunbathers, the crowds grew with each minute. Having reached Windsor at noon, however, we missed most of the morning commuters from London who arrived early to make a day of it at Windsor and Eton.

Queen Mary’s Doll’s House:
For us, the biggest attraction today was a chance to see Queen Mary’s Doll’s House which, the last time we came here, had attracted a long queue that deterred us. This time, our wait was no longer than ten minutes. While one might think that this is nothing more than a plaything of some privileged royal family member, it is, in fact, a completely charming showpiece. Designed by the great Edwardian architect Sir Edwin Lutyens (designer, among other projects, of the city of New Delhi in the second decade of the 20th century), it is a massive wooden house completely furnished with the fittings of a royal residence of the Edwardian era. Every item inside is not only of the finest material but superbly constructed to scale. Hence, there are real bottles of wine in the cellar (no bigger than your pinky finger) and real sterling silverware and plates on the dining table. Of course, some things are not quite real—the maid’s bedroom, for instance, is just at the side of the owner’s—something that was unheard of, given the Upstairs Downstairs arrangements of Edwardian mansions that strictly segregated living quarters along class lines. Still, it was charming to notice the attention to detail and the manner in which it seems the entire country cooperated to create this royal showpiece.

Equally noteworthy were the two French dolls presented to Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret while they were little girls by the French government on the occasion of their state visit to France with their parents in the early decades of the last century. The French not only presented the princesses with these dolls but used them to showcase the couture talents of their most predominant designers such as Chanel and Worth. Whole sets of beautiful clothing to be worn on different occasions were designed, executed and packed in a traveling trunk—one for each French doll. It would appear as if the princesses did not play with them at all for they and their wardrobes are in pristine condition and made for a truly delightful addition to this part of the Castle.

The Queen’s Private Collection of Drawings and the Special Exhibit on Henry VIII: Moments after we finished touring the Doll’s House and its precincts, we found ourselves in another exhibition area with an opportunity to peruse the Queen’s collection of drawings, most of which are rarely on exhibition as she has such a vast stash that they are rotated regularly. Llew and I were fortunate enough to see a few of the drawings by Leonardo da Vinci that are in her private collection—we saw some of his anatomical drawings, some drafts for his far-sighted flying machines and some of the drawings that formed studies for his most famous paintings such as the Virgin of the Rocks (versions of which we saw both at the National Gallery in London and at the Louvre in Paris).

But, by far, the most interesting part of this exhibit was the one on Henry VIII that coincides with the five hundredth anniversary of his birth. There are special exhibits on Henry VIII this year all over London and I have seen the one on him at the Tower of London which focused on his wardrobe (being cleverly entitled “Dressed to Kill”—that’s what’s so admirable about the English…their wacky sense of humor!). This one focused on Henry as a Man of Letters and I was delighted to see several original drawings and paintings by Hans Holbein the Younger (Henry’s court painter) as well as several first editions of some of the most famous books of the era. Llew was particularly fascinated by first editions of Sir Thomas More’s Utopia, Martin Luther’s Treatise challenging the power of the Vatican and Henry’s spirited refutation of Luther’s arguments (which, ironically enough, earned him the title of Defender of the Faith from the Pope—this, of course, was before his bitter battle with the Vatican began and his divorce with Popery became final). So many of the exhibits I have seen all over the country this year have focused on the Tudor period and despite my in-depth knowledge of this dynasty, I simply never tire of learning more.

Having seen the rest of Windsor Castle earlier, including the State Apartments and St. George’s Chapel, we decided to make our way home but not before we stopped at Waitrose to buy some of the Wensleydale cheese with ginger that both Llew and I really like. Back on the train, we arrived at Paddington and took the Tube back home to arrive just in time to get our boxes of books ready for the shippers. Our friend Janie was kind enough to offer to take them in her car for me to the North Acton depot of Headley’s Humper where I had dropped off my antique bureau-desk a few days ago. Since I will be occupying a portion of a container, it made sense to fill the crate being made for me with my large collection of books and bed linen that have to be shipped back to the US.

Meeting Janie at the National Theater:
Janie had made plans to meet us at the National Theater on the South Bank of the Thames just before our show began in the evening. Having packed our boxes, we took them across in a cab and arrived at the National well in time for our 7.30 pm appointment with Janie. She did arrive soon enough which allowed us to transfer the boxes to her car as well as take a few last pictures with her. She has been a such a great friend to me in London, ferrying me around to places of interest (Syon House, Dulwich Picture Gallery and Village and Rochester in Kent), introducing me to so many fascinating aspects of English architecture (Georgian is her own favorite) and telling me about so many London attractions that she thought I ought not to miss. As she drove off, I felt a pang of sadness…though I know I will see her again (if not in London then in Southport, Connecticut, where her brother Jonathan is a good friend of ours).

The Hottest Summer Theater Tickets—and they were Ours!
As Janie drove off, Llew and I made our way towards the National Theater and looked to find our seats. I became excited (even though I have so much on my mind right now with my return to the States and the vast number of things I have to do in the hope that everything will fall into place). The auditorium was filling quickly as Helen Mirren’s presence in the cast (playing Phedre in Racine’s famous play of the same name) ensured an exciting evening at the theater. I had actually forgotten that another star name was in the cast—Dominic Cooper who played the male romantic lead in the smash hit film version of Mamma Mia last year. It was only when I saw him on stage and found him familiar in the role of Hippolytus that I remembered that he too was in the cast—a very fortunate bonus, I thought.

As it turned out, I found Mirren’s portrayal deeply melodramatic and while I do realize that I was watching classic Greek tragedy which is expected to be played in this fashion, the performance got rather monotonous being so devoid of a range. Oenene, her aged counselor, played by Margaret Tyzack was equally one-dimensional if very good and I guess, given the pathos of the situation and the excess of emotion portrayed by the principal characters, Cooper’s decision to underpay his role stood out in contrast against the rest—but too stark a contrast, methought! The play’s intriguing plot kept us spellbound, however, and as we watched Phedre’s machinations on stage in her attempt to retain Theseus’ favor (despite having professed love for his son Hippolytus), I realized that despite its somewhat predictable characters and outcomes, it was a rare treat to see Greek tragedy so masterfully portrayed on a world-class stage by world-class actors. And, of course, there is the brag value attached to having seen Mirren in the flesh—so we felt profoundly privileged that we managed to get the hottest summer stage tickets in the city and made such a fine night of it at the theater.

A Moonlight Walk along the Thames and Drinks at the OXO Bar:
It was the perfect night to walk aimlessly along the banks of the Thames whose colorfully illuminated buildings threw their changing neon reflections into the swirling waters. What better an idea than to hot hoof it to the rooftop bar at the OXO building where Llew and I enjoyed a cold (okay make that cool) beer while watching the buildings on the opposite bank glint in the ink blue night? It was a truly romantic evening for the two of us as we snacked on spiced bar nuts, sipped our drinks and thrilled to the knowledge that we had all of London seemingly spread out at our feet.

An hour later, drinks consumed and with a heady buzz that added to our enjoyment of Londres: La Nuit, we walked on the Embankment to Blackfriars Bridge from where we hopped into a 63 bus that took us home to Farringdon, a hot dinner made up of remains in my fridge and then called it a night.

The Tower of London and Dinner at Lahore Kebab House in Whitechapel

Jul19

Sunday, July 19, 2009
London

It being Sunday, Llew and I decided to go for Service to the Church of St. Peter in Chains which is one of the royal chapels of her Majesty the Queen located inside the precincts of the Tower of London on Tower Hill. We ate a cereal breakfast at home, then showered and left at leisure. Llew was jet lagged and was finding it difficult to focus, so hats off to him for making it on time for the 11 am service which we reached by the Number 15 bus which we caught from Fleet Street. Smithfield is quiet and very deserted on a Sunday morning and Llew enjoyed soaking in its unique ambiance.

We were able to get past the hordes of tourists and the long line snaking into the Tower of London. I led Llew to the Church which was opened up for us by one of the Yeoman Guards (Beefeaters). It was a very small gathering (not more than 15 members in the congregation) that were in the historic church built during the reign of Henry VIII. It is filled with memories of the many figures who spent their last days in prayer here including Katherine of Aragon for whom this was a private chapel. As in all Anglican churches, there are memorials lining the walls honoring those who died bravely and several funerary monuments all over the church. Its age is easily proclaimed by its interior.

Right after the service which was conducted by Chaplain Roger Hall (whose vestments were decorated with the various medals he has received while serving his country in war times–like the Chelsea Pensioners), we began our tour of The Tower of London with a look at the fascinating Crown Jewels. I had been there only two months ago with Chriselle but Llew was returning there after more than 30 years and could not remember anything, so it was primarily for his sake that I had planned this morning’s excursion to the Tower.

Needless to say, we were entranced by the jewels, their history and significance as we stood on the mechanical walkway that runs alongside the glass cases that hold these priceless treasures. In fact, we stood on the walkway twice as well as walked slowly by each plaque that gives details about each piece. I really adore the little diamond crown that was especially made for Queen Victoria to wear after she became widowed. It is a darling little crown (like a child’s) but exquisitely designed and executed and twinkles brightly. Of course, the Koh-in-noor diamond on the Queen Mother’s Crown and the Cullinan (Star of Africa) diamond on the sceptre always earn a few gasps.

Next, we were out in the Tudor courtyard taking a look at the scaffolding upon which had once lain the heads of Anne Boleyn and a host of other unfortunate sods who had the temerity to say “Boo” to Henry. We walked reverentially around what used to be the chopping block (with grizzly axe included) but which now holds a quartz crystal “cushion”, a sculpture by Brian Catling–a far less startling reminder of the blood and gore that encompassed that phase in English history. We followed a guided tour group back into the church where we were treated to the delightful commentary of one of the Beefeaters (so-named because they did not receive any money as payment but were provided with meals in days gone by–a fact that singled them out from the local populace most of whom could not afford meat).

We took a bus back home where we had lunch (still trying to finish things in my fridge and freezer) and then took a short nap (as poor Llew is still jetlagged). When we awoke, I suggested that we relax quietly at home until dinner time. I called Jack who gave me the address of the most excellent authentic Pakistani restaurant in the East End called Lahore Kebab House just off Commercial Road. Llew and I rode the bus there (Number 15) and then walked to the spot where the aroma of grilled meats reached us long before we arrived at the door.

We were shown upstairs to a very spacious hall by the waiter who, looking at Llew, switched straight away into choice Urdu–it was great that we both speak it fluently, so that the rest of our conversation with the waiter was in the tongue of our native land! On his recommendation, we ordered mixed kebabs as appetizers (seekh, chicken tikka and lamb chops–absolutely fabulous!) and the Special of the Day, the Tiger Prawn Curry with Rotis and Naans. The curry was to die for but a trifle spicier than both Llew and I can handle. With our noses running, we relished our meal and decided to have the Pista Kulfi for dessert as our mouths were on fire by the end of it–much as it was memorable and a very reasonably priced meal. We left the restaurant paying less than thirty pounds for the two of us which, given London’s prices, was a steal.

Stuffed and chastising ourselves for over-eating, we took the bus back home. It was almost midnight when we turned in, delighted at having spent such a great day together in London.

Last Interviews with Anglo-Indians

Jul10

Thursday, July 9, 2009
London

No matter how much time I estimate it will take to arrive somewhere on the buses, it usually takes double! So, after breakfast and a shower, I left my flat at Farringdon at 8. 20 am for a meeting at 10 am at Norwood Junction to meet an Anglo-Indian couple from Surrey who had agreed to speak with me. Halfway through the bus ride, I realized that I had left their phone numbers behind–not that they had a mobile phone anyway…so I would not be able to contact them though I was running late.

Well, the bus route was probably one of the longest I have ever taken and when I did reach my destination (the Clock Tower) at Norwood Junction, they were nowhere to be seen. I had expected this, of course, as I did not think they would wait for longer than a half hour.

But since their ultimate destination was St. Chad’s Church in which a weekly Thursday Anglo-Indian Luncheon Meeting is held, that was where I headed and there they were! I was embarrassed at being so late, flustered, stressed and certainly not in the best frame of mind to do an interview–and that too with two people simultaneously. Also, I dislike the idea of meeting anyone at that meeting as the place is like a typical Indian ‘mela’. There are 150 to 200 people present in a church hall and the din is deafening! I find the atmosphere there deeply overwhelming and not conducive to any kind of academic activity–though it is great for socializing which is why they are there!

When I tried to get this couple to meet me some place else, they stubbornly refused–it was St. Chad’s or nowhere else! Though they are both retired, they are, like the loads of other elderly Anglo-Indians I had tried to meet–sooooooo busy they could not fit me anywhere on their calendars for over three months now!!! In my desperation to talk to them, I agreed to meet them at St. Chad’s. Bad idea from the get-g0. What with my tardiness, the unsuitability of the venue and the fact that they were in a hurry to return to their meeting, I did two of the most unsuccessful interviews I have ever done. But I guess, they swelled my numbers and I was looking for 50 people overall, so I am not entirely unhappy.

Having traveled all the way to this venue, I wish I could have said hello to a few of the Anglo-Indians who have been so kind and have given me so generously of their time such as the Ribeiros, Neville Johnston, Cecil Wilson, etc. but though I met Claire Jansen and exchanged a peck on the cheek with her and Ashley Jacob, I had to slink quietly out when the meeting began and did not manage to meet anyone else. Such a pity as I don’t think I will see any of them again and I have come to think of each of them as friends!

A bus ride then took me to West Croydon station where I was meeting another Anglo-Indian gentleman who arrived on the train from Surrey to speak to me. Owen Thorpe suggested lunch in the cafeteria at John Lewis but somewhere on the way there, he mentioned a dosa instead and I promptly told him that I would prefer the South Indian restaurant!

So off we went to eat vadas and dosas and a mango lassi (to which he treated me) and boy, was that fabulous! We chose a quiet corner and I ended up doing a superb interview at leisure (thank heavens he wasn’t in a hurry) and in silence, which allowed me to take notes freely and allowed him to take off and tell me about his life in India and the UK.

Owen is also a writer and has just published his memoir entitled Paper Boats in the Monsoon: Life in the Lost World of Anglo-India (Trafford, Canada). He presented me with an autographed copy of his book and was the last word in graciousness. For anyone interested in reading more about this book, here is Owen’s website: www.owenthorpe.co.uk

I was so glad that my very last interview in this country went off so well and was with someone who was eager to speak with me and freely give me of his time and memories. In fact, I felt a trifle sentimental as I scribbled everything he said as this was the very last time I would be asking the same questions! In total, I found 51 people who were willing to speak to me (across two generations) and I am very pleased indeed as this number will make my sample survey valid academically and allow me to create my own statistics.

At the end of our interview, being ever the gentleman he is, Owen escorted me to an Indian grocery store so I could buy some mangoes! I was looking for Alphonsos but I guess it is long past the season and I had to settle for some Pakistani ones which the salesman promised would be terrific!

Owen then dropped me to the bus stop and I promptly fell asleep during the long and very boring ride back home. I changed to the 63 at Elephant and Castle and was home by 5. 30. I took a short rest, then sat at my laptop and hammered out all three interviews as I transcribed my notes. I have now only three more interviews to transcribe–the ones I did in West Drayton and I hope to catch up in the next couple of days. With all these interviews in the bag and my data collection proceeding at the libraries and the archives, I shall be able to start analysis of it as soon as I return home to the States.

I ate a late, very late dinner (was so engrossed in my work that I did not stop until nearly 11 pm), mainly leftovers from my birthday dinner, then enjoyed a slice of Black Forest Cake and went to bed after reading some more Potter.

Last Walk in Chiswick and Wimbledon with Amy

Jul2

Thursday, July 2, 2009
Chiswick and Wimbledon

With my friend Amy in town, I resolved to complete the last walk in my book Frommer’s 24 Great Walks in London. Now were I planning to do it with anyone else, I might have abandoned the idea. But Amy is such a sport and perhaps the most uncomplaining person I know. The heat was gruelling and the humidity intense in this horrendous heat wave we’re going through –most unusual for the UK. I always used to say to my American students: “There is nothing more beautiful than a summer’s day in England” Well, I might have to re-think this because when I was a grad student here, I do not remember going through a single day in July or August without a light cardigan. I do not ever recall being able to wear shorts or a T-shirt (forget about a tank top). I really do finally believe that there is such a thing as global warming when I go through sweltering days like this in the UK because there were simply non-existent twenty years ago.

A Riverside Walk in Chiswick:
Anyway…I took buses that got me to Richmond and I arrived at Stephanie’s place at 11. 30 am. Amy was waiting for me in the skimpiest pair of shorts you ever did see! Good for her! If I had legs that good, boy, I’d be wearing a pair like that in a heartbeat! So, another bus ride later (the 190), we arrived at Stamford Brook Underground station from where our walk began. It was entitled “The Chilling Streets of Chiswick” and it took us directly to the Thames embankments which have different names along different stretches (Hammersmith Embankment, Chiswick Mall, Upper Mall, etc). A Mall in this context is not a shopping plaza but a corridor of sorts (like, I suppose, Pall Mall in London).

Lunch at the Black Lion Pub:
It was only a few blocks before we passed St. Peter’s Square with its Georgian homes adorned with giant eagles, lions, urns and stately Ionic columns and lovely garden (though the lawns look terribly dry and uninviting) and arrived at The Black Lion Pub where we were both ready for a meal. In the beer garden at the back, we settled down with a bottle of Bulmer’s Pear Cider (so welcome on this blistering day!) and found ourselves entertained by a waiter who kept abbreviating the word “Pleasure” to “plej” much to Amy’s amusement. In fact, she kept thanking him every two seconds just to hear him say “plej”–and she has decided that she will add this charming new coinage to her vocabulary!

Well, we ate delicious brie and cranberries on crostini with salad and a hearty ciabata sandwich made with goat cheese, sesame seeds and fig relish and they were gooooood! In fact, it was so marvelous to sit under the shade of those spreading trees munching our meal and catching up that I had half a mind to abandon our pursuit. But then I figured, I might as well tick one more item off my list and get it done.

Kelmscott House:
So, an hour later, off we went again,this time walking towards Hammersmith in error–we weren’t concentrating on the directions (gabbing too much as we always tend to do) and were almost at Hammersmith Bridge before I realized we’d done something wrong. But, as often happens in London when you wander down an unintentional path, you arrive at some place astonishing and we arrived at Kelmscott House, London home of William Morris and the base of the William Morris Society!!!

Now this probably was meant to be as I had been so keen to see Kelmscott Manor in Oxfordshire but had abandoned that plan when I discovered how impossible it was to get there by public transport. So here I was in Morris’ London water-front home! The lovely lady who acted as guide invited us inside and we saw some of his original designs on the wall (for what later became his famous tapestries) as well as his printing press (he founded one with his other Pre-Raphaelite pals at Exeter College, Oxford, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Edward Burne-Jones and named it the Kelmscott Press). There was loads of photographs and the original rush-seated chairs that once belonged to him in the house. Well, after spending a few minutes chatting to the lady, she suggested we walk further down river and arrive at No. 7 Hammersmith Terrace, home of Emery Walker with whom Morris was very close and whose home has been retained as a receptacle of the philosophy and ethos of the Arts and Crafts Movement.

Mansions and Gardens of the Thames and St. Nicholas Church:
Off we went passing by the most beautiful mansions and gardens fronting the Thames until we did find No. 7–only to discover that it could be toured in small private groups with a guide at a cost of 10 pounds each. Well, we did not wish to be dissuaded from our goal, so we continued until we arrived at medieval St. Nicholas Church whose squat square blue clock tower easily proclaimed its age. It is in this churchyard that the railed Georgian tomb of the painter William Hogarth might be found. We reverentially encircled it and then walked around the church hoping to get in–only to find it closed.

Chiswick House:
On we went to Burlington Lane, then crossed the busy roundabout by the subway to arrive at the vast grounds of Chiswick House–only to find it closed for renovation as was also Hogarth’s House next door. So in terms of getting into a house on both occasions, we were thwarted in our plans, but we did enjoy the cool and shady grounds of Chiswick House. The heat called for another drink and we, therefore, made our way to The George and Devonshire Pub and walked just past it to what might be London’s smallest square (Chiswick Square) which has buildings dating from the 15th century on three sides (one of which is called Boston House). It was very picturesque indeed.

Arrival at Wimbledon:
Back at the bus stop, we made connections to get ourselves to Wimbledon where our friends Stephanie and Wendy had tickets for the game and where we’d made plans with them to have dinner. The bus rides gave Amy and me a chance to see the Thames-sides hamlet of Putney as we rode right through it, talking nineteen to the dozen!

At Wimbledon Station, we got off and began exploring the area. The station was crowded with office commuters returning home and getting away from the frenzy of the tennis tournaments. I wanted to be a part of that frenzy so off we went into another bus that took us past pretty Wimbledon Village to the tennis courts. We had to descend down Wimbledon Hill past the gorgeous homes and gardens of the area which Stephanie informed me is one of the most expensive zip codes in the city.

The Excitement of the Tennis Tournaments:
The crowds and excitement began long before we reached the courts themselves. People were already starting to leave though a match between James Blake and a Russian was on in Court Two. Now James Blake is my ‘homie’ as he is a product of Fairfield, Connecticut, and we consider him our ‘home boy’. Llew and I had watched him at the US Open Tennis Matches, a couple of years ago, on Center Court, when he had made his return to professional tennis for the first time after his long bout with shingles.

Amy and I were unable to get in, of course, as we did not have tickets, but we did get a wonderful sense of the fun and vibrancy of the matches, the excitement of the crowds, their sense of competition and fun as we walked by the gates and the walls and the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Museum. It is possible to take a guided tour of the site and perhaps I shall do that when Llew gets here, but for the moment, we were happy to enter into conversation with a Nigerian security guard who was heading off for the beginning of his night shift and was so delighted that Amy was an American that he wanted to “swallow” her because he loved the country so much–though he has never been able to get a visa to enter it!

Drinks and Dinner at the Fox and Dog Gastro Pub:
Well, when we’d taken a few pictures and imbibed the spirit of Wimbledon tennis, we climbed up the hill again, took another bus to Wimbledon Village and arrived at the Fox and Dog Pub where Stephanie had made a dinner reservation for us for 8. 30 pm. Amy and I lingered in a few retro and vintage stores ( as this is a passion we share) and then found our way to the pub where we settled down gratefully with another bottle of Bulmer’s Pear cider.

About half an hour later, Steph joined us with her Australian date Chris and another friend Wendy and we made our way to our table where we had a really delicious dinner–Amy and I split Fish and Chips and a Butternut Squash Linguine with goat’s cheese and toasted pine nuts that was rich and heavy but delicious. More Pear Cider did the rounds as we all chatted with Chris whom we were meeting or the first time and then it was time for me to take the Tube and get back home after what had been a terrific day with my pals.

I was so pleased that Amy had squeezed in two days with me in London (work commitments in New York had prevented her from staying longer) which allowed us to catch up and discover parts of the city that we had never seen before.

It was about 11. 30 am when I went to bed and resolved to spend the next few days doing some serious work as I really need to get to the library as well as continue drafting my lecture.

Amy in London! Climbing the Monument and a Superb Steak Dinner

Jul1

Wednesday, July 1, 2009
London

I awoke at 7.00 am, typed my blog and sent out my June newsletter and Oxford Travelog when I heard a sound in the loft and realized that Paul’s secretary, Isobel, had arrived. When I wanted to take a shower, I realized that I had not turned the boiler on when I got in last night, so I did that and started to order material from the British Library from the online catalog as well as material from the National Archives at Kew in Richmond as I have earmarked the last couple of weeks to review a few official documents. Having done all that, I awaited Amy’s arrival while reviewing my proposed Oxford lecture.

At 12. 45, my dear friend Amy arrived from New York, having taken the Tube to Farringdon from Heathrow. We had a joyous reunion. I had last seen her in Fairfield, Connecticut, in December when I had visited my family back in the States. She had organized an evening out–dinner in an Indian restaurant called Bangalore–with a few of our friends…and we’d had a superb evening. It was so great to see her again. She is an intrepid traveler too and has been my travel companion on the road in India, in London and in Italy and it was she who introduced me to Stephanie with whom she has traveled to South America. In fact, she is here, passing through London to push off with Stephanie and a bunch of friends for a sailing holiday in Croatia.

After she had rested and I served her an Indian lunch (pullao and curry with a salad), she and I left my flat and I gave her a little walking tour of my neighborhood: St. John’s Gate and Museum, the Smithfield Meat Market, the Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, St. Bart’s Hospital and Museum (and the Hogarth Staircase) and the Church of St. Bartholomew the Less. Then, we walked along Hatton Garden’s Diamond District and the Leather Lane Street market to my former building on High Holborn where I had the chance to chat for a few minutes with my former concierge, Arben. It was great to be back there and I received a warm and very sincere welcome from him.

Climbing the Monument:
Then, having equipped ourselves with bus passes, we took the Number 8 bus to London Bridge with the idea of climbing the 311 steps of the Monument which has recently been refurbished and looks sparkling clean and spanking new. Amy and I had together climbed the 5o0 odd steps to Brunneleschi’s Dome in Florence during our travels in Italy last March (2008) and I figured that she would make the best companion for climbing the steps of the Monument as this is also on my list of things to do before I leave for the States.

Well, as luck would have it, we could not have picked a nicer day for this project: the sky was a clear, cloudless blue and visibility was astounding. The monument, itself, completely re gilded glows in all its glory. At its summit, is a large gilded vase with a bunch of flames symbolizing the Great Fire of London of 1666 which destroyed 13,000 acres of the city. Christopher Wren was assigned the task of designing a Monument to mark this catastrophe and he came up with the idea of erecting a tower that was exactly 202 feet tall because exactly 2o2 feet away on Pudding Lane was the Bakehouse where the fire is said to have originated.

From the summit, we could see past Canary Wharf and on to Greenwich. Tower Bridge was gorgeous in the bright sunshine as was the dome of St. Paul’s on one side and on the other, the tip of the Gherkin. It was slightly scary at the top as the area is rather cramped. You walk along a balcony but the entire space is enclosed with a very wide grill through which you can fit a camera lens to take pictures.

On our return to the base and as we were leaving, we were each handed a certificate that stated that we had climbed the 311 steps of the Monument–a lovely souvenir to take home with us! If, like me, you haven’t been on the London Eye, this very economical alternative at just 3 pounds per head makes a lot of sense. I was very glad I did it and that I had Amy’s wonderful company to accomplish this goal. We had spent a few days together, last year in London, and this day out only served to remind us of the good times we’d had then.

On to the Serpentine:
Then we got on to a bus to get to Hyde Park as I thought that the blisteringly hot summer’s day simply cried for a day out on the water. Amy seconded the idea enthusiastically and I thought it would be great to rent a pedal boat for a half hour. However, the bus ride took ages–it just creeped and crawled along in peak hour rush–and we only arrived at Hyde Park at 6. 45 and they had stopped renting out the boats at 6. 30 pm. Well, perhaps this is something I shall do when Llew gets here.

A Super Juicy Steak Dinner:
So this time we took the Tube back to Farringdon from Marble Arch–which was way faster! Our idea was to go out for a nice dinner together before Amy picked up her baggage from my place and took the Tube to Richmond as she was spending the night with our mutual friend Stephanie. I chose 26 Smithfield’s, a steak restaurant opposite the Smithfield Market, which is renowned for its steaks. We ordered bread with oil and vinegar as a starter and split a bottle of pear cider which was cold and very refreshing and very delicious. Our main course was steak fillets–Amy chose a red wine sauce, I chose a peppercorn sauce and our steaks were to die for! I mean they were seriously good–unbelievably tender and succulent and the mash that accompanied the meat was equally creamy and tasty. As always, we did justice to our meal and found no room for dessert.

Amy did not stay long after our meal as she had a long way to go on the Tube. I said goodbye to her and we have made plans to meet tomorrow in Richmond as we intend to take the walk in Chiswick.

It was just wonderful to see my dear friend Amy again and I look forward to another day tomorrow of hanging with my friends before I get down to serious work in the library again.