Monday, December 1, 2008
London
Jack Frost nipped at my nose all day today as London slipped down to a numbing 1 degree--that's Celsius, of course, in which scale the figures always sound scarier than they are even to North Americans accustomed to more frigid winters. However, it was with a twinge of jealousy that I noticed that it was 11 degrees Celsius in New York and Fairfield today--December 1, 2008, Chriselle's Birthday. I can only hope that we will be released from this Freezer Box soon and return to more seasonal English temperatures.
Still, I cannot complain because when I awoke, the sun--that elusive thing--was out, shining gloriously upon the city. The pull towards the outdoors is so strong especially when this happens after three straight days of slickness and gloom. I finished grading a batch of essays, showered and left my flat. I bussed it to Bedford Square and arrived at my office, rather unusually on a Monday, in order to print out a bunch of things on which I had worked through the weekend--not the least of which were my Megabus tickets for my trip to Oxford tomorrow. Karen even remarked about how strange it seemed to see me on a Monday.
Then, all work accomplished for the day, I set off to have some festive fun, catching the bus to Trafalgar Square from where I caught another one to Aldwych to see Somerset House which wears a dressed-up air at Christmastime. The grand Neo-Classical mansion is the backdrop for holiday festivity sponsored, this year, by Tiffany and Co. There was a small snack bar all painted in the signature robin's egg blue and tied with a bow to resemble a typical Tiffany present--it called itself the Tiffany Tuck Shop and sold cup cakes decorated with robin's egg blue icing and a tiny white bow, blue and white candy canes and gingerbread cookie men wearing robin's egg blue scarves. All very cute but all very pricey!
On the skating rink, dozens of merrymakers slid around, some proficient, others obvious beginners. The Christmas tree that stood in another 'Tiffany present' stand sported ice-skates in blue, huge silver snowflakes and strings of blue lights. In the adjoining cafe, hot mulled cider and hot chocolate were being sold in robin's egg blue Tiffany paper cups. So there you had it--a crassly commerical American Christmas exported to London, courtesy of Tiffany, in these days of global credit crunches and economic downturns. I had hoped to see a festival market all set up on the sidelines, but was sorely disappointed. A look in the Somerset House Shop was equally disappointing, for there was really nothing that shouted out my name.
By then it was 3 pm in London (10 am in New York), a good time to call Chriselle who would have arrived at her office desk. We ended up having the nicest chinwag. She had received the yellow roses I sent her via Llew and was looking forward to dinner that evening at a Thai restaurant with Llew and Chris and, somewhat unexpectedly but very pleasantly for her, the presence of my brother Roger, who happens to be in New York on a flight.
I then hightailed it back home on the bus, but not before I passed by India House at India Place which intersects Montague Street (he, I suppose, of the Montague-Chelmsford Reforms) and was attracted to a sculpture of India's first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru perched on a pedestal in the alley where visitors to India queue for visas at the adjoining consulate offices. I took a few pictures but with the light fading fast, I'm not optimistic about the results.
On the way back, I tried so hard to find one of the old red Bombay-style double deckers but though I just missed one that sailed off majestically as I arrived at the bus-stop, my resolve was shattered in the freezing cold and I caught the first bus that came my way and dropped me off on Fleet Street from where I walked home. I did spent a few moments in Waterstones browsing through the new coffee table books being offered this season, including Steven Fry's Tour Across America and Nigella's Christmas. It's funny to see how one can become a vicitim of one's own success. Indeed, success has completely changed Nigella's natural persona. I was warching some of the episodes from her earliest TV series shot at the time when her first husband was still alive and her kids were still kids (and not the pre-teens they are now) and I found her so natural in front of the camera. In the newer series, she behaves like a sex kitten, flashing come-hither bedroom smiles into the camera and keenly playing up her sex appeal. I have to admit that at times I find the current series' almost embarrassing.
I had enough time at home to get myself a quick slice of pizza and a coffee before I left again and took the bus to St. Paul's Cathedral to Amen Court, the home of my new friends the Colcloughs, Cynthia and Michael. Bishop Michael is Canon-Pastor at St. Paul's Cathedral and has invited me to a bunch of Advent and Christmas services at the Cathedral. The service was by invitation or pass only but the place was packed. For the next one hour and a half, I lost myself in the prayerful interior as I listened to a number of readings, superbly articulated by several different Anglican prelates and a couple of choirs, including a Boy's choir that was simply outstanding. Their angelic voices rose to the towering domed ceiling and made me feel as if I were in Heaven in the midst of the hosts of angels all singing their hearts out. It was idyllically beautiful. Since it was Chriselle's birthday and I like to attend Mass on her birthday when I am far away from her, this was the ideal service to dedicate to her and she was closely in my prayers all through the evening. I made the discovery that very day that Chriselle shares a birthday with my friend Mary-Jo Smith from Connecticut and, so MJ was in my prayers too. I am looking forward now to Handel's Messiah this coming Thursday in the same venue.
I continued watching Far From the Madding Crowd over dinner when I got home. I did not realize what a lengthy movie it is, but I was relieved that it did have a happy ending unlike most of Hardy's novels that are lachrymose and dripping with tragedy. Gabriel did win Bathsheba's hand in marriage, at the very end, though there were some rather morbid scenes that I was afraid would keep me awake at night. As it turned out, I was ready to drop by the time I cleared and washed up and went to bed.
Tomorrow, I will be catching the 8 am Megabus from Victoria to Oxford where I have a couple of meetings at St. Antony's College, so I set my cell phone alarm to 6.30 am and fell asleep. Since I am using the cell phone as an alarm clock for the first time, it is my fervent hope that it will ring on schedule!
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