Sunday, September 4, 2011
London
Last days in a city are meant to be frenetic but I was seized by uncontrollable nervousness as the day wore on--partly because I realized that my hosts did not own a weighing scale and I was afraid I'd have overweight baggage. Cathedral bells woke me up on a weepy morning in time for a quick wash before I left for the 8 am Mass at St. Etheldreda's Church at Holborn Circus--my 'parish' whilst I had lived in London.
Regular readers of this blog will know how delighted I'd been to discover that my parish is considered the UK's oldest Catholic Church. Built in the 1200s as part of the London headquarters of the Bishop of Ely (near Cambridge), it grew into an important ecclesiastical center in the Tudor and Elizabethan periods (Henry VIII and Elizabeth I are both known to have worshipped in it). After the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536, the church fell into disuse and the vast land surrounding it, bordering Hatton Garden, fell into the hands of the Crown. Only the chapel remained with its exquisite stained glass windows. After the Reformation, it became the first church to be restored to the Church of Rome and is, therefore, considered the country's oldest Catholic Church. Although I love attending Sunday service at Anglican churches when I am in England, it is always a pleasure for me to return to St. Etheldreda's, for old times' sake, and to revel in its marvelous history.
Today, that pleasure was enhanced by the fact that I got to meet my friend Barbara once again. I recall Sunday mornings in my Holborn flat when at precisely 8. 45 am, I'd hear the door next to mine shut gently as Barbara made her way, unfailingly, to St. Etheldreda's for the 9 am Mass. And sure enough, there she was, like clockwork, in the church at 8. 55 am. It was heartwarming to see her as well as to discover that not much has changed in two years. There was still only a sprinkling of people, Fr. Tom Deidun is still around (and said the mass), the Lector is the same lovely white lawyer with the impeccable British accent and beautiful voice and the man who sits besides her (partner? husband?) still wears his cardigan around his shoulders!
This Sunday happened to be one on which the mass liturgy has changed in the UK so a laminated leaflet was available to illuminate the way. Changes are subtle but took me back to the responses of decades ago for many phrases were familiar to me from yore. After listening to a very interesting sermon by Fr. Tom, I was glad I'd opted to attend Mass at St. E's. When Mass ended and we trooped out into Ely Place, Holborn was still asleep, having a lazy Sunday morning lie-in. Barbara invited me back home to her place for coffee and since Cynthia and Michael were headed to a later service at the Cathedral, I accepted. "But we need to get the paper first", she said, revealing her fondness for routine--for indeed, walking to Holborn Tube Station for the Sunday Times has also been an unfailing part of her Sunday morning. We stopped at Paul's Patisserie for croissants upon our return.
By the time we arrived at her flat, Tim had put out all the fixin's for a very nice Continental breakfast--our croissants, butter, preserves and honey, fruit, coffee. An exquisite bowl of plump red cherries (the only ones I ate all season) were irresistible. We chatted, we munched, we chatted some more and then it was time for me to leave--but not without discovering that they owned a weighing scale that they were willing to lend me. Deeply grateful, I put it in a bag and hauled it home to Amen Corner.
I spent the next hour and a half attempting to distribute my stuff in two bags and a carry-on. The scale proved to be very useful and soothed my troubled nerves. Aidan was very helpful in converting stone into pounds with the calculator on his I-Pad. After a quick shower and lunch of chipolata sausages and spicy tortellini that I ate with Aidan, my mini-cab (nicknamed The Afghan Hound by the Colcloughs!) arrived at my door and in the pouring rain, I bid goodbye to my kindly and very generous hosts and left.
Rain streamed down the windshield all the way to Heathrow, as Barbara put it, as if London was weeping to see me leave. My driver, a very chatty young chap called Mo, did not go along Cromwell Road as I requested because traffic, he assured me, would be bad as a result of a bike race. Instead we took the more boring Euston Road and then the West Highway. We arrived at Heathrow where I discovered that my carry-on was overweight. Good job I'd arrived early for the traffic assistant permitted me to redistribute weight in my larger bags and once that was accomplished, I sailed through to security.
Of course, I could not leave London without browsing in the duty free area--I have my favorite shops at Terminal 3 (Jo Malone, Cartier, Harrods) where I ended up buying a Plum Pudding as I usually do. That's it, I thought. Christmas well in advance sorted!
The skies over London were overcast as we took off and climbed higher. Although I had a window seat, my view was obscured by clouds and haze. I realized that I was eager to get back home to Southport and although my UK stay had been, as always, much to write home about, I was ready to leave.
Kennedy airport was chaotic, as it usually is, upon my return. In a few minutes, I reunited with Llew after three whole months and as he took the wheel upon our long drive homewards, I thought to myself, it is so good to come home again!
Until the next time when I return to my London Roost, I say Au Revoir--and thanks again for following me.
Cheers!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
My Second-Last Day in London
Saturday, September 4, 2011
London
With less than 48 hours left before I departed from London, I was eager to fill them in with all sorts of pleasurable solo loitering. But, having made the discovery that I had left my credit card behind at Rymans stationery in Holborn last evening, I had no choice but to hop on a bus to get there and pick it up.
Cynthia made us a typical English Fry-Up for breakfast--scrambled eggs with chipolata sausages and bacon and toast--artery-clogging and heart-attack-inducing, but oh so yummy! Then, I was at the bus-stop chatting on my mobile with Rahul, one of Chriselle's friends, when I lost my concentration and took the wrong bus. Realizing my mistake immediately, I resolved to get off at the next stop, only to find myself staring directly at the walls of the Museum of London.
Of course, then my error seemed fated because seeing the newly-installed basement of the museum had been on my To-Do List (I had just wondered when to fit it all in). The museum had just opened for the day, so I raced downstairs and spent the next half hour viewing its newest highlights--of course, the piece de resistance is the spectacular stage coach of the Lord Mayor of London. I also saw Ann Fanshaw's 18th century dress that never allowed her to go through doorways (she had to be pushed through my her footmen!), Selfridges' amazingly decorative Art Deco elevator from the 1930s, a simply superbly evoked 'Victorian Walk' that included shop front windows from the era (they most certainly deserve more time to be done justice), a pashmina from Alexander McQueen, a Vespa scooter, and several other items. But then I heard an announcement stating that a guided Highlights tour would shortly be starting and I signed up for that with a guide named Kristy who took us on a walk through the museum through which the stirring history of this city was recounted. I know that I will return again to the Museum of London when I am here in January for it definitely deserves a much more leisurely browsing.
Then on the bus I went again to Rymans, where, thankfully, my credit card was waiting for me and after producing ID, it was handed back. With the sun pouring down and warming the city (maybe a little too much), I decided to take bus rides (as I have a weekly pass that allows me to take unlimited rides all week) through the city to enjoy its weekend buzz. However, I did make a detour at Foyle's bookstore because I really cannot leave London ever without browsing through its collection.
At Cambridge Circus, I took a bus again--this time headed to Chelsea and Sloan Square for the King's Road is one of my favorite streets in which to window-shop. I always alight at the Duke of York's Square where at the weekend, vendors put up stalls to showcase and sell their artisinal foods. I made a small meal on the cheeses, spreads, deli cured meats, drinks, breads and cookies that were handed out, then continued my window-shopping. It was all great fun and I had a quiet blast. In one of the shops, I actually found a vintage pleated skirt and quickly bought it so my shopping expedition wasn't entirely in vain.
Loathe to leave Chelsea's chic precincts, I hopped on a bus and a Tube train to make my way to Holborn to have tea with my friend Sushil Velu at his flat on Theobald's Road. I was seeing Sushil after two years and we had much to talk about and catch up on. Over lovely hot tea and a very spicy Punjabi samosa, we renewed our friendship and then I was bidding him goodbye and walking quickly to Holborn Tube station for my next appointment--this one with my Elphinstone College (Bombay) classmate Michelle. After an affectionate reunion, we walked along Kingsway together, took a bus up Fleet Street to St. Paul's, settled down at Paul's Patisserie for hot chocolate and a chocolate eclair and caught up. We have known each other since we joined college as undergraduates at 16. This past year has been a particularly challenging one for both of us so we were a little tearful at the end of our chat as we talked about so much that has happened. Michelle is a lawyer who works for British Parliament and I find her company endlessly fascinating as well as unfailingly amusing. But too soon, it was time for us to move on to our next appointments--she to the Southbank for dinner with friends and I, back home to Amen Court for my last dinner with my affectionate hosts, Michael and Cynthia.
Llew got online in Southport just before we sat for dinner and was able to Skype with me and the Colclough family. The event was so fascinating to the Colcloughs that I promised to try to hook them on to Skype so that we could have video conversations when I return to Southport. I found that Cynthia had cooked a Lamb Curry with Spinach in my honor and together we sat and ate a lovely meal. Though the knowledge that I would be leaving them tomorrow tugged at my heart strings, I know that I will see them and their lovely sons, Edward and Aidan, again in January--God willing, so I cheered up. After dinner, over Black Forest Gateau, I attempted to hook them on to Skype and was glad to have met with success! What a lovely evening we had! Indeed, what a superbly productive day I'd had--a museum visit, a leisurely ramble in a favorite London quarter, a bit of retail therapy, happy reunions with friends old and new and bus rides in the city of which I never tire.
Indeed, London has been, as always, a happy interlude for me en route home from India and I am happy to have had this unexpected opportunity to enjoy my favorite city at my leisure. Thanks for following my blog once more and for accompanying me on this sojourn. I will sign off now and say goodbye and will inform you the next time I resume my rumination from my Roost in London.
Cheers for now!
London
With less than 48 hours left before I departed from London, I was eager to fill them in with all sorts of pleasurable solo loitering. But, having made the discovery that I had left my credit card behind at Rymans stationery in Holborn last evening, I had no choice but to hop on a bus to get there and pick it up.
Cynthia made us a typical English Fry-Up for breakfast--scrambled eggs with chipolata sausages and bacon and toast--artery-clogging and heart-attack-inducing, but oh so yummy! Then, I was at the bus-stop chatting on my mobile with Rahul, one of Chriselle's friends, when I lost my concentration and took the wrong bus. Realizing my mistake immediately, I resolved to get off at the next stop, only to find myself staring directly at the walls of the Museum of London.
Of course, then my error seemed fated because seeing the newly-installed basement of the museum had been on my To-Do List (I had just wondered when to fit it all in). The museum had just opened for the day, so I raced downstairs and spent the next half hour viewing its newest highlights--of course, the piece de resistance is the spectacular stage coach of the Lord Mayor of London. I also saw Ann Fanshaw's 18th century dress that never allowed her to go through doorways (she had to be pushed through my her footmen!), Selfridges' amazingly decorative Art Deco elevator from the 1930s, a simply superbly evoked 'Victorian Walk' that included shop front windows from the era (they most certainly deserve more time to be done justice), a pashmina from Alexander McQueen, a Vespa scooter, and several other items. But then I heard an announcement stating that a guided Highlights tour would shortly be starting and I signed up for that with a guide named Kristy who took us on a walk through the museum through which the stirring history of this city was recounted. I know that I will return again to the Museum of London when I am here in January for it definitely deserves a much more leisurely browsing.
Then on the bus I went again to Rymans, where, thankfully, my credit card was waiting for me and after producing ID, it was handed back. With the sun pouring down and warming the city (maybe a little too much), I decided to take bus rides (as I have a weekly pass that allows me to take unlimited rides all week) through the city to enjoy its weekend buzz. However, I did make a detour at Foyle's bookstore because I really cannot leave London ever without browsing through its collection.
At Cambridge Circus, I took a bus again--this time headed to Chelsea and Sloan Square for the King's Road is one of my favorite streets in which to window-shop. I always alight at the Duke of York's Square where at the weekend, vendors put up stalls to showcase and sell their artisinal foods. I made a small meal on the cheeses, spreads, deli cured meats, drinks, breads and cookies that were handed out, then continued my window-shopping. It was all great fun and I had a quiet blast. In one of the shops, I actually found a vintage pleated skirt and quickly bought it so my shopping expedition wasn't entirely in vain.
Loathe to leave Chelsea's chic precincts, I hopped on a bus and a Tube train to make my way to Holborn to have tea with my friend Sushil Velu at his flat on Theobald's Road. I was seeing Sushil after two years and we had much to talk about and catch up on. Over lovely hot tea and a very spicy Punjabi samosa, we renewed our friendship and then I was bidding him goodbye and walking quickly to Holborn Tube station for my next appointment--this one with my Elphinstone College (Bombay) classmate Michelle. After an affectionate reunion, we walked along Kingsway together, took a bus up Fleet Street to St. Paul's, settled down at Paul's Patisserie for hot chocolate and a chocolate eclair and caught up. We have known each other since we joined college as undergraduates at 16. This past year has been a particularly challenging one for both of us so we were a little tearful at the end of our chat as we talked about so much that has happened. Michelle is a lawyer who works for British Parliament and I find her company endlessly fascinating as well as unfailingly amusing. But too soon, it was time for us to move on to our next appointments--she to the Southbank for dinner with friends and I, back home to Amen Court for my last dinner with my affectionate hosts, Michael and Cynthia.
Llew got online in Southport just before we sat for dinner and was able to Skype with me and the Colclough family. The event was so fascinating to the Colcloughs that I promised to try to hook them on to Skype so that we could have video conversations when I return to Southport. I found that Cynthia had cooked a Lamb Curry with Spinach in my honor and together we sat and ate a lovely meal. Though the knowledge that I would be leaving them tomorrow tugged at my heart strings, I know that I will see them and their lovely sons, Edward and Aidan, again in January--God willing, so I cheered up. After dinner, over Black Forest Gateau, I attempted to hook them on to Skype and was glad to have met with success! What a lovely evening we had! Indeed, what a superbly productive day I'd had--a museum visit, a leisurely ramble in a favorite London quarter, a bit of retail therapy, happy reunions with friends old and new and bus rides in the city of which I never tire.
Indeed, London has been, as always, a happy interlude for me en route home from India and I am happy to have had this unexpected opportunity to enjoy my favorite city at my leisure. Thanks for following my blog once more and for accompanying me on this sojourn. I will sign off now and say goodbye and will inform you the next time I resume my rumination from my Roost in London.
Cheers for now!
Friday, September 2, 2011
A Little Bit of This and That
Friday, September 2, 2011
London
When its not jetlag, it is the tolling bells of St. Paul's Cathedral right outside my window that wake me up at the crack of dawn. Not that I'm complaining. I actually quite love the sound of those bells and the centuries of history they evoke as soon as I open my eyes. It's hard to stop myself from drawing back the curtains on my heavy sash windows to feast my eyes on the dome of Old Bailey and the gilded blind-folded Goddess with her sword in my one and scales of justice in the other that tops the edifice. Ah, I think, this is London! And I sigh with pleasure all over again. It is nice to be passionate about something in life and for me London is an enduring passion.
Mass at St. Paul's:
And when I awake so early, I think a great way to start the day is with Mass at the Cathedral especially when it lies only a few steps away and Cynthia and Michael, my friends, are attending. So into one of the side chapels we trooped to listen to a small, intimate mass and to receive Communion before the celebration of the Eucharist ended. Then, before we knew it, we were trooping out again into another golden morning. Yes, the sun was out and the city was flooded not just with light but with warmth as well--warmth that continued to grow as the day progressed and then became rather oppressive in the afternoon.
Brunch in Whitechapel:
But there wasn't time to be wasted. I had a date in Whitechapel with Jack, one of my favorite young people in London. Jack is the intelligent, creative, sensitive, affectionate, adventurous son of my friends Loulou and Paul. He and I have always hit it off well and during my life in London, he was quite frequently my theater companion. Jack was keen to show off his 'place' in the East End and had invited me to partake of breakfast with him.
At about 9. 15, I got off the bus at Whitechapel Tube Station, crossed the street into the lane that houses the London Royal Hospital and found Turner Street tucked in the back. I used the heavy old knocker on the door and then, there was Jack, opening the door for me and leading me into the 1814 Georgian house. And how charming was the home! How adorable! Light streams in through the windows, all the fireplaces are working ones, nooks and niches hide tiny bathrooms, there is a steep flight of wooden stairs that leads into an attic bedroom and in the basement, exposed brick walls contrast with the spiffiness of stainless steel appliances. Outside, in the tiny garden, are herbs and perennial flowering bushes (the handiwork of his gardener mother) in beds that lead to a double-storied shed which Jack, ever the creative spirit, intends to convert into a studio someday. And somehow I know he will!
Breakfast turned out to be a feast for the eyes and the palate: Fruit and Nut Granola with Yogurt and Fresh Berries, a selection of croissants with butter, fig preserves and the most delicious honey from the wilds of the Scottish Highlands (for Jack spent a part of the summer on the Isle of Collonsay refurbishing an old family homestead with his girl-friend Jennifer--I told you he is both adventurous and creative). We munched, we sipped really good coffee, we chatted about everything under the sun including the novel Jack is currently writing. He showed me pictures of the Old Man, a finger of rock that juts out into the sky on a tiny island off the coast of Scotland which he climbed to the summit with his friend Henry. In-between, I got the Grand Tour of the house and an insight into his many pastimes and pursuits. Jack has recently started distilling fragrances from the herbs he grows in his garden and has started producing perfumes. He has promised to concoct a scent exclusively for me and to present it to me for Christmas. I cannot wait! Meanwhile, he promised to email me an account of his walkathon from London to his family home in Suffolk past some of the Home Counties' unknown old churches, flat pasture land and fields. Is it any wonder that I am enchanted by his company?
Alas, too soon it was time for me to leave him with all the luck in the world for his Masters degree in Asian Studies that he is completing from London University's School of Oriental and African Studies after which he hopes to find "a proper job". Meanwhile, I warmly wished him all the luck in the world and whispered a prayer that he might stay as sweet as he is and that all his dreams will come true.
A Muddle with Buses:
Jack escorted me back on the bus heading towards St. Paul's where Cynthia was supposed to meet me at the bus-stop so that we could proceed with our plans for the rest of the day. But as I alighted from my bus, I watched as Cynthia boarded one behind me! Just as I tried to flag her bus down, it moved away. There was nothing else to do but board the one right after it (which turned out to be a vintage Routemaster). I climbed to the top deck hoping to catch up with her at the bus stop at Trafalgar Square. But, a few yards ahead, I saw that she had alighted from her bus and was walking back! There was nothing to do for it but race downstairs, get off my bus and race behind her along Fleet Street! Well, long story short, we caught up and then boarded a bus together and rode towards Buckingham Palace which we intended to tour together. All was well that ended well!
We got off at Trafalgar, walked at leisurely pace down Mall Pall, passed Clarence House and caught the last bits of the pomp and ceremony of the Changing of the Guards before we arrived at Buckingham Palace. Sunshine poured down warmly over the city and people had peeled off their jackets. I was much too warm in my own layers.
Disappointment at the Palace:
Alas, we had arrived too late in the day. It was almost noon and all the tickets to tour the palace had been issued for the day. Although Llew and I have toured Bucks Palace, fifteen years ago, when it had first opened up to the public, I was keen to see the Sara Burton-designed wedding dress for Kate, Duchess of Cambridge and, apparently, a layer of her wedding cake, both of which are on display this year. But it was not to be, I suppose, and walking towards Grosvenor Place, we caught a bus to Hyde Park to arrive at our next destination.
A Garden in the Serpentine Gallery:
The famous Serpentine Gallery was our next port of call. My NYU colleague Ifeona with whom I'd had breakfast two days ago, had urged me to try to make it to the Hortus Conclusus, a dream garden completely enclosed by the gallery walls but open to the sky--the concept of artist Peter Zumthor who has created a living piece of art in collaboration with landscape artist and designer Piet Oudulf. The perennial garden, a long narrow strip of flower bed, provided a calming oasis in which to rest our feet after our long stroll across Hyde Park and the Albert Memorial to the venue. We took a few pictures and then set out again--Cynthia for home and me to the next item on my agenda.
A Bus Ride to Tottenham Court Road:
Tottenham Court Road that was so much in the news in connection with the looting riots looks none the worse for its recent notoriety. In fact, life is back to such normality that it is hard to believe anything so lethal happened only a few weeks earlier. As always, I enjoyed watching London lurch and falter below me as I surveyed the city and its people from my perch on the upper deck's picture windows (quite my favorite place in the world from which to people-watch). At Goodge Street in Bloomsbury, I connected with my friend Rosemary who nipped out of work to spend a hour with me over a cappuccino. It was much too hot and I opted for a long cool lemonade instead and while we sat and shot the breeze, she left me with a vintage silver-plated teapot, circus 1920s from Harrods--the perfect little London souvenir. I have visions of sipping my daily afternoon cuppa from it and thinking of my lovely English friend.
Off to Meet Former Colleagues at NYU:
Since Bedford Square was only a hop away, it was a no-brainer to look up my lovely English colleagues there and to survey our expanded new premises in the Georgian block of buildings that surround the private gardens. To my delight, several were around--Yvonne, Ruth, David, Robert, James--and were delighted to see me. Many bear hugs later, they gave me a tour of the new buildings and floors, showed me their new offices, chatted with me about new developments, plans and projects. I was pleased to meet Matt, a professor and London theater-critic, with whom I had attended opening night performances for the press and who had been such good company to me while I had lived in London. Memories of an amazing professional year came flooding back to me as I wandered through the premises and soaked in the nostalgia of those days. Although change is guaranteed to alter the layout of our London campus, I know there will always be a special welcome for me every time I pass through the city; and for that I am very grateful.
A Tour of St. Pancras Old Churchyard:
Then, at Jack's behest, I set out on my next solo adventure. He had urged me, during breakfast, to take a bus ride towards King's Cross to the churchyard of Old St. Pancras Church where gravestones proclaiming the last resting place of prominent Londoners are in evidence in the bustling heart of the city. So back on a bus I went towards King's Cross and the International Terminal for the Chunnel trains to the Continent and with some difficulty, I found the church, on a short hill, with its ornate gates and steps leading up to the main entrance. Peace and quiet prevailed over the premises until I opened the door and entered to find a film crew hard at work at the altar. Lovely funerary monuments and memorial dot the walls of the church which is striking in a rather unfussy sort of way.
Outside, my tour of the churchyard led me to the family burial vault of Sir John Soane, one of my favorite London architects and owner of one of the city's most fascinating museums, the Soane House at Holborn. Being very familiar with Soane's work (he designed the Bank of England, the Dulwich Picture Gallery, the stable blocks at Chelsea Royal Hospital and a church on Marylebon Road among other striking works), I was curious to see his own design for his family burial vault. And how simple and unostentatious it was! Yes, Neo-Classical design was plainly in evidence but with a distinctive Soane twist--a curved roof that his disciple George Gilbert Scott borrowed when designing the red telephone booths that have become iconic.
Other interesting gravestones in the cemetery belonged to William Godwin and his first wife, Mary Wollstonecraft (who was one of England earliest and best-known feminists and author of Vindication of the Rights of Women). Her daughter, who married the English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, went on to become a renowned novelist herself and author of Frankenstein. Lovely Victorian memorials lay sprinkled around the churchyard evoking a time when life in London was calmer and quieter and although red buses trundled alongside, it was hard to believe I was in the 21st century.
The Hardy Tree:
Jack had told me to make sure I did not miss The Hardy Tree named after one of my favorite novelists, Thomas Hardy. Long before he became the celebrated author of Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Jude the Obscure, Far from the Madding Crowd, etc. Hardy was a mason and an apprentice architect. When the East Midlands Railway line was expected to pass through Old St. Pancras Church (that dates from the mid-1700s), the architectural firm for which Hardy worked was assigned the task of digging up the graves, exhuming the bodies and repositioning the gravestones elsewhere. The enviable task was delegated to Hardy who assembled the old gravestones in a circle, planted an ash tree sapling in their midst and left. Today, over a century later, the roots of the ash tree have pushed the gravestones upwards and have spread themselves among the stones that form a frilly 'skirt' all around. It is a very curious sight indeed and one worthy of a dozen photographs.
Off to Run Errands:
Leaving the old world precincts of the churchyard behind, I hopped on to a bus again and joined the throngs outside King's Cross as I headed to Holborn to buy a supply of some of my favorite pens from Rymans located in my former building. Then, I hopped on to another bus and finally headed home. Surprisingly, despite a day spent almost entirely on my feet, I wasn't the least bit tired. Instead, I showered and readied myself for my next appointment, dinner with my former neighbors Tim and Barbara. They had suggested Madison, the new rooftop restaurant on London's newest mall, One New Change.
Off for Dinner to Madison:
Tim and Barbara arrived at Amen Corner at 7. 30 pm (Barbara looking very fetching indeed in the pink kurta from India that I had presented her) and off we walked, just a few meters to One New Change. Londoners who work hard all week long seem to wait for Friday evening when they play equally hard. The restaurant was crowded, buzzing and very noisy indeed. We had 8. 00 pm reservations and knew as soon as we entered that it would severely discourage conversation. Still, we found our table, placed our order and settled down to enjoy a bottle of chilled Chablis, an excellent starter called Potted Parfait--a creamy concoction of foie gras and chicken liver served with Melba toast and redcurrant jelly and, in my case, a nice hunk of sea bass. None of us wanted pudding or coffee, so after a companionable evening spent overlooking the rooftops of London (my hosts had generously offered me a seat with a view that extended as far out as the blue-lit London Eye) and the dome of St. Paul's that seemed so close you could touch it, we made our way back home on what was an exceptionally warm English evening--clearly Summer's Last Hurrah.
It had been another lovely day for me in London punctuated by so many of the things I enjoy best in life--art, gardens, churchyards, history--but above all, the company of dearly-loved and well-cherished friends.
London
When its not jetlag, it is the tolling bells of St. Paul's Cathedral right outside my window that wake me up at the crack of dawn. Not that I'm complaining. I actually quite love the sound of those bells and the centuries of history they evoke as soon as I open my eyes. It's hard to stop myself from drawing back the curtains on my heavy sash windows to feast my eyes on the dome of Old Bailey and the gilded blind-folded Goddess with her sword in my one and scales of justice in the other that tops the edifice. Ah, I think, this is London! And I sigh with pleasure all over again. It is nice to be passionate about something in life and for me London is an enduring passion.
Mass at St. Paul's:
And when I awake so early, I think a great way to start the day is with Mass at the Cathedral especially when it lies only a few steps away and Cynthia and Michael, my friends, are attending. So into one of the side chapels we trooped to listen to a small, intimate mass and to receive Communion before the celebration of the Eucharist ended. Then, before we knew it, we were trooping out again into another golden morning. Yes, the sun was out and the city was flooded not just with light but with warmth as well--warmth that continued to grow as the day progressed and then became rather oppressive in the afternoon.
Brunch in Whitechapel:
But there wasn't time to be wasted. I had a date in Whitechapel with Jack, one of my favorite young people in London. Jack is the intelligent, creative, sensitive, affectionate, adventurous son of my friends Loulou and Paul. He and I have always hit it off well and during my life in London, he was quite frequently my theater companion. Jack was keen to show off his 'place' in the East End and had invited me to partake of breakfast with him.
At about 9. 15, I got off the bus at Whitechapel Tube Station, crossed the street into the lane that houses the London Royal Hospital and found Turner Street tucked in the back. I used the heavy old knocker on the door and then, there was Jack, opening the door for me and leading me into the 1814 Georgian house. And how charming was the home! How adorable! Light streams in through the windows, all the fireplaces are working ones, nooks and niches hide tiny bathrooms, there is a steep flight of wooden stairs that leads into an attic bedroom and in the basement, exposed brick walls contrast with the spiffiness of stainless steel appliances. Outside, in the tiny garden, are herbs and perennial flowering bushes (the handiwork of his gardener mother) in beds that lead to a double-storied shed which Jack, ever the creative spirit, intends to convert into a studio someday. And somehow I know he will!
Breakfast turned out to be a feast for the eyes and the palate: Fruit and Nut Granola with Yogurt and Fresh Berries, a selection of croissants with butter, fig preserves and the most delicious honey from the wilds of the Scottish Highlands (for Jack spent a part of the summer on the Isle of Collonsay refurbishing an old family homestead with his girl-friend Jennifer--I told you he is both adventurous and creative). We munched, we sipped really good coffee, we chatted about everything under the sun including the novel Jack is currently writing. He showed me pictures of the Old Man, a finger of rock that juts out into the sky on a tiny island off the coast of Scotland which he climbed to the summit with his friend Henry. In-between, I got the Grand Tour of the house and an insight into his many pastimes and pursuits. Jack has recently started distilling fragrances from the herbs he grows in his garden and has started producing perfumes. He has promised to concoct a scent exclusively for me and to present it to me for Christmas. I cannot wait! Meanwhile, he promised to email me an account of his walkathon from London to his family home in Suffolk past some of the Home Counties' unknown old churches, flat pasture land and fields. Is it any wonder that I am enchanted by his company?
Alas, too soon it was time for me to leave him with all the luck in the world for his Masters degree in Asian Studies that he is completing from London University's School of Oriental and African Studies after which he hopes to find "a proper job". Meanwhile, I warmly wished him all the luck in the world and whispered a prayer that he might stay as sweet as he is and that all his dreams will come true.
A Muddle with Buses:
Jack escorted me back on the bus heading towards St. Paul's where Cynthia was supposed to meet me at the bus-stop so that we could proceed with our plans for the rest of the day. But as I alighted from my bus, I watched as Cynthia boarded one behind me! Just as I tried to flag her bus down, it moved away. There was nothing else to do but board the one right after it (which turned out to be a vintage Routemaster). I climbed to the top deck hoping to catch up with her at the bus stop at Trafalgar Square. But, a few yards ahead, I saw that she had alighted from her bus and was walking back! There was nothing to do for it but race downstairs, get off my bus and race behind her along Fleet Street! Well, long story short, we caught up and then boarded a bus together and rode towards Buckingham Palace which we intended to tour together. All was well that ended well!
We got off at Trafalgar, walked at leisurely pace down Mall Pall, passed Clarence House and caught the last bits of the pomp and ceremony of the Changing of the Guards before we arrived at Buckingham Palace. Sunshine poured down warmly over the city and people had peeled off their jackets. I was much too warm in my own layers.
Disappointment at the Palace:
Alas, we had arrived too late in the day. It was almost noon and all the tickets to tour the palace had been issued for the day. Although Llew and I have toured Bucks Palace, fifteen years ago, when it had first opened up to the public, I was keen to see the Sara Burton-designed wedding dress for Kate, Duchess of Cambridge and, apparently, a layer of her wedding cake, both of which are on display this year. But it was not to be, I suppose, and walking towards Grosvenor Place, we caught a bus to Hyde Park to arrive at our next destination.
A Garden in the Serpentine Gallery:
The famous Serpentine Gallery was our next port of call. My NYU colleague Ifeona with whom I'd had breakfast two days ago, had urged me to try to make it to the Hortus Conclusus, a dream garden completely enclosed by the gallery walls but open to the sky--the concept of artist Peter Zumthor who has created a living piece of art in collaboration with landscape artist and designer Piet Oudulf. The perennial garden, a long narrow strip of flower bed, provided a calming oasis in which to rest our feet after our long stroll across Hyde Park and the Albert Memorial to the venue. We took a few pictures and then set out again--Cynthia for home and me to the next item on my agenda.
A Bus Ride to Tottenham Court Road:
Tottenham Court Road that was so much in the news in connection with the looting riots looks none the worse for its recent notoriety. In fact, life is back to such normality that it is hard to believe anything so lethal happened only a few weeks earlier. As always, I enjoyed watching London lurch and falter below me as I surveyed the city and its people from my perch on the upper deck's picture windows (quite my favorite place in the world from which to people-watch). At Goodge Street in Bloomsbury, I connected with my friend Rosemary who nipped out of work to spend a hour with me over a cappuccino. It was much too hot and I opted for a long cool lemonade instead and while we sat and shot the breeze, she left me with a vintage silver-plated teapot, circus 1920s from Harrods--the perfect little London souvenir. I have visions of sipping my daily afternoon cuppa from it and thinking of my lovely English friend.
Off to Meet Former Colleagues at NYU:
Since Bedford Square was only a hop away, it was a no-brainer to look up my lovely English colleagues there and to survey our expanded new premises in the Georgian block of buildings that surround the private gardens. To my delight, several were around--Yvonne, Ruth, David, Robert, James--and were delighted to see me. Many bear hugs later, they gave me a tour of the new buildings and floors, showed me their new offices, chatted with me about new developments, plans and projects. I was pleased to meet Matt, a professor and London theater-critic, with whom I had attended opening night performances for the press and who had been such good company to me while I had lived in London. Memories of an amazing professional year came flooding back to me as I wandered through the premises and soaked in the nostalgia of those days. Although change is guaranteed to alter the layout of our London campus, I know there will always be a special welcome for me every time I pass through the city; and for that I am very grateful.
A Tour of St. Pancras Old Churchyard:
Then, at Jack's behest, I set out on my next solo adventure. He had urged me, during breakfast, to take a bus ride towards King's Cross to the churchyard of Old St. Pancras Church where gravestones proclaiming the last resting place of prominent Londoners are in evidence in the bustling heart of the city. So back on a bus I went towards King's Cross and the International Terminal for the Chunnel trains to the Continent and with some difficulty, I found the church, on a short hill, with its ornate gates and steps leading up to the main entrance. Peace and quiet prevailed over the premises until I opened the door and entered to find a film crew hard at work at the altar. Lovely funerary monuments and memorial dot the walls of the church which is striking in a rather unfussy sort of way.
Outside, my tour of the churchyard led me to the family burial vault of Sir John Soane, one of my favorite London architects and owner of one of the city's most fascinating museums, the Soane House at Holborn. Being very familiar with Soane's work (he designed the Bank of England, the Dulwich Picture Gallery, the stable blocks at Chelsea Royal Hospital and a church on Marylebon Road among other striking works), I was curious to see his own design for his family burial vault. And how simple and unostentatious it was! Yes, Neo-Classical design was plainly in evidence but with a distinctive Soane twist--a curved roof that his disciple George Gilbert Scott borrowed when designing the red telephone booths that have become iconic.
Other interesting gravestones in the cemetery belonged to William Godwin and his first wife, Mary Wollstonecraft (who was one of England earliest and best-known feminists and author of Vindication of the Rights of Women). Her daughter, who married the English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, went on to become a renowned novelist herself and author of Frankenstein. Lovely Victorian memorials lay sprinkled around the churchyard evoking a time when life in London was calmer and quieter and although red buses trundled alongside, it was hard to believe I was in the 21st century.
The Hardy Tree:
Jack had told me to make sure I did not miss The Hardy Tree named after one of my favorite novelists, Thomas Hardy. Long before he became the celebrated author of Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Jude the Obscure, Far from the Madding Crowd, etc. Hardy was a mason and an apprentice architect. When the East Midlands Railway line was expected to pass through Old St. Pancras Church (that dates from the mid-1700s), the architectural firm for which Hardy worked was assigned the task of digging up the graves, exhuming the bodies and repositioning the gravestones elsewhere. The enviable task was delegated to Hardy who assembled the old gravestones in a circle, planted an ash tree sapling in their midst and left. Today, over a century later, the roots of the ash tree have pushed the gravestones upwards and have spread themselves among the stones that form a frilly 'skirt' all around. It is a very curious sight indeed and one worthy of a dozen photographs.
Off to Run Errands:
Leaving the old world precincts of the churchyard behind, I hopped on to a bus again and joined the throngs outside King's Cross as I headed to Holborn to buy a supply of some of my favorite pens from Rymans located in my former building. Then, I hopped on to another bus and finally headed home. Surprisingly, despite a day spent almost entirely on my feet, I wasn't the least bit tired. Instead, I showered and readied myself for my next appointment, dinner with my former neighbors Tim and Barbara. They had suggested Madison, the new rooftop restaurant on London's newest mall, One New Change.
Off for Dinner to Madison:
Tim and Barbara arrived at Amen Corner at 7. 30 pm (Barbara looking very fetching indeed in the pink kurta from India that I had presented her) and off we walked, just a few meters to One New Change. Londoners who work hard all week long seem to wait for Friday evening when they play equally hard. The restaurant was crowded, buzzing and very noisy indeed. We had 8. 00 pm reservations and knew as soon as we entered that it would severely discourage conversation. Still, we found our table, placed our order and settled down to enjoy a bottle of chilled Chablis, an excellent starter called Potted Parfait--a creamy concoction of foie gras and chicken liver served with Melba toast and redcurrant jelly and, in my case, a nice hunk of sea bass. None of us wanted pudding or coffee, so after a companionable evening spent overlooking the rooftops of London (my hosts had generously offered me a seat with a view that extended as far out as the blue-lit London Eye) and the dome of St. Paul's that seemed so close you could touch it, we made our way back home on what was an exceptionally warm English evening--clearly Summer's Last Hurrah.
It had been another lovely day for me in London punctuated by so many of the things I enjoy best in life--art, gardens, churchyards, history--but above all, the company of dearly-loved and well-cherished friends.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
A Day Out in Bury St. Edmunds
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Bury St. Edmunds
Having awoken at 6. 30 again, I joined Cynthia for the 8 am Mass at St. Paul's Cathedral. Michael said the Mass in one of the small chapels where a clutch of folks formed an intimate congregation. When I emerged in the full-blown light of a gorgeous sunny day, my heart sang--it was the perfect day for a day trip. Hurrying through breakfast, I took the Tube to Wembley North where I met my friend Bash who had volunteered to drive me out of town on an excursion to any venue of my choice. After much debate, Michael had suggested Bury St. Edmunds and that was where we zipped off by 10. 30 am.
Bury St. Edmunds lies in the county of Suffolk not too far from Cambridge. Although the drive took almost two hours, the time flew as we chitchatted and caught up. Entering the delightfully large market square that is dominated by a medieval tower gate on one side and an ivy-clad stone hotel on the other, we parked our car and set out to explore the beautiful town.
Mentioned frequently in the novels of Charles Dickens (especially The Pickwick Papers), 'Bury' as it is known for short, is associated with the medieval English king Saint Edmund who was martyred in 869 AD and whose remains were buried in the town --from where it derives its name. We entered the Tourist Information Office first for maps and recommendations for places to see and armed with the necessary information, crossed the street to enter the Tower Gateway into the lovely Abbey Gardens.
Strolling Through the Abbey Gardens:
It was hard to believe that it was the first of September as the gardens were in full glorious summer bloom with begonia and fuchsia providing vivid color in geometrically laid-out flower beds sprinkled among manicured lawns. Punctuated by the grey flint stone ruins of the Abbey that was destroyed during Henry VIIIs Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1534, the gardens made a popular picnic spot and scores of people enjoyed sprawling on the lawns on a day that invited one to do just that. Crossing into the churchyard with its spectacular rose gardens and perennial flower beds, we arrived at the entrance of the Cathedral and spent almost an hour exploring the interior.
Exploring the Cathedral:
Although the Cathedral dates from medieval times, the last structure that completed it--a square Gothic tower--was erected only in 2005 and is stunning for its interior paint work. The colors used to paint the ceiling are vivid and wonderful and blend superbly with the much older hammered beam ceiling that features the busts of saints. The altar of this cathedral is notable for the fact that was the assembly point for the barons who had decided to draw up a Charter of Liberties to present to King John--which became the famous Magna Carta of 1215. We encircled the Cathedral and knowing that there was much to see, then made our way into the cloisters that surround another very private garden that was used exclusively by the monks. We munched on the sandwiches I had carried on picnic benches thoughtfully provided and continued to enjoy the sun.
The Church of St. Mary:
Later, we explored the adjoining Church of St. Mary that is of similar vintage and also sports a superb hammered beam ceiling--this one ending in the busts of fabulously carved angels. This church is renowned for being the burial place of Henry VIII's favorite sister (and his youngest sibling), Mary (after whom he named the Tudor ship The Mary Rose). I read the history of her life on the plaque and the episode in HBO's The Tudors came startlingly back to me as I recalled that, at 18, she was bethrowed by Henry to the 54 year old Louis, King of France, although Henry well knew that she was in love with one of his courtiers, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Mary agreed to marry Louis provided that Henry would permit her to marry Charles after Louis passed away (I suppose, in that day and age, 54 was a grand old age and she did not expect him to live long). HBO's version has Mary murder Louis by suffocation (although the plaque did not say so). Henry sent Charles to bring the widowed queen back to England but en route, Charles secretly married Mary, much to Henry's anger. Both Charles and Mary were banished from the court and lived in disgrace for years (as it was unthinkable for a member of the royal family to marry without the king's consent). A few years later, Henry forgave them both, restored his relationship with them and they returned to court. However, a few years later, when Mary died, neither her brother Henry (who was busy with the coronation revelry for one of his six wives) nor her husband Charles (who was already wooing his next wife!) attended her funeral and burial in the Abbey Church. She was buried very simply under a stone slab with no mortuary sculpture or decoration of any kind--certainly as the plaque puts it, a most unseemly burial for the daughter of a king, a sister of a king, a wife of a king and a grandmother of queen (her grand-daughter was the poor ill-fated Lady Jane Grey who ruled England for exactly nine days before being beheaded together with her two young sons for no other reason than she was a threat).
Knowing how much I adore Tudor and Elizabethan history, one would not be surprized that I was particularly taken by this church and spent a long while at Mary's tomb (which occupies a nondescript corner of the altar). There is also a stained glass window that was installed by Queen Victoria who was fascinated by Mary's life--she is not to be confused with Mary Tudor, first-born daughter of Henry VIII by Katherine of Aragon (known as Bloody Mary) nor her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots.Nor was she ever cannonized and the Church of St. Mary in which she lies buried is not named after her. Overall, I found this church simply lovely for its rich associations with a particularly fascinating period in British History.
Sampling Suffolk's Oldest Brewery:
Walking further down the quaint narrow streets of the town, we arrived at the Green King brewery, one of the country's oldest. In the gift shop, we sampled two of the beers produced by the brewery--Old Country Hen and Old Golden Hen, both rather good especially on a warm day. We toured the museum displays and, although we had not arrived in time for a tour of the brewery, received a neat introduction to its working.
A Tour of the Theater Royal:
Right across the street was the Theater Royal, the oldest Regency theater (circa 1810-1820, this was built in 1819 and therefore just escapes the Georgian era) in the country. Today it is maintained by The National Trust and although it is a working theater whose new season actually begins today (September 1), we were given a tour of the exquisite interior by an assistant who proved to be a superb tour guide and had all his facts at his finger tips. The theater was recently restored at a cost of 6 million pounds and the refurbishment is evident. Seats in bright pink match the walls while a Classical painted frieze on the stage front and sides of the boxes form the only decoration. This theater has none of the Victorian grandeur of the London ones but it was charming and one of the nicest things we saw all day.
Back at the market square (where a street market is held every Wednesday and Saturday), we wended our way through the maze of narrow lanes that always comprise medieval market towns to browse in a few stores before we nipped inside The Nutshell, the country's tiniest pub. Indeed, no more than five men can occupy the place at a time and when Bash stood with his arms outstretched, he touched both sides of the pub. It is aptly named and is a tourist curiosity.Other places of note in Bury are the Mosye Hall where a Norman crypt that we entered forms a modern day gift store for a small museum that is located further inside the building.
We had done Bury justice and having spent almost five hours in the town decided to stop at the Scandinavian Tea Shop for a pot of tea and coffee walnut cake. Then, it was time to get back into the car for the long drive back to London. We got caught up for an hour in awful accident-related traffic near Wembley but we did arrive at Red Sky, a newly-opened shisha lounge at which Bash wanted me to meet two of his friends, a scholarly Bangladeshi named Mohammed and an Indian student who is college-bound soon to the University of Birmingham named Urvi. I spent a good hour with them over a chocolate milk shake and chicken kebab rolls before we got in the car again, stopping off only at Kensington to pick up tickets for an excursion to what Bash called "Bucks Palace" and then we were driving to Amen Court through Central London's theater district that was garishly illuminated.
Back at Amen Court, Bash stayed for a quick cup of coffee with Cynthia and Micahel before disappearing into the night. Cynthia and I enjoyed some herbal tea before we too called it a day. My unexpected excursion to Bury St. Edmunds turned out to be a really interesting one and I was so glad that Bash did the driving and allowed me a chance to take in its long and varied history.
Bury St. Edmunds
Having awoken at 6. 30 again, I joined Cynthia for the 8 am Mass at St. Paul's Cathedral. Michael said the Mass in one of the small chapels where a clutch of folks formed an intimate congregation. When I emerged in the full-blown light of a gorgeous sunny day, my heart sang--it was the perfect day for a day trip. Hurrying through breakfast, I took the Tube to Wembley North where I met my friend Bash who had volunteered to drive me out of town on an excursion to any venue of my choice. After much debate, Michael had suggested Bury St. Edmunds and that was where we zipped off by 10. 30 am.
Bury St. Edmunds lies in the county of Suffolk not too far from Cambridge. Although the drive took almost two hours, the time flew as we chitchatted and caught up. Entering the delightfully large market square that is dominated by a medieval tower gate on one side and an ivy-clad stone hotel on the other, we parked our car and set out to explore the beautiful town.
Mentioned frequently in the novels of Charles Dickens (especially The Pickwick Papers), 'Bury' as it is known for short, is associated with the medieval English king Saint Edmund who was martyred in 869 AD and whose remains were buried in the town --from where it derives its name. We entered the Tourist Information Office first for maps and recommendations for places to see and armed with the necessary information, crossed the street to enter the Tower Gateway into the lovely Abbey Gardens.
Strolling Through the Abbey Gardens:
It was hard to believe that it was the first of September as the gardens were in full glorious summer bloom with begonia and fuchsia providing vivid color in geometrically laid-out flower beds sprinkled among manicured lawns. Punctuated by the grey flint stone ruins of the Abbey that was destroyed during Henry VIIIs Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1534, the gardens made a popular picnic spot and scores of people enjoyed sprawling on the lawns on a day that invited one to do just that. Crossing into the churchyard with its spectacular rose gardens and perennial flower beds, we arrived at the entrance of the Cathedral and spent almost an hour exploring the interior.
Exploring the Cathedral:
Although the Cathedral dates from medieval times, the last structure that completed it--a square Gothic tower--was erected only in 2005 and is stunning for its interior paint work. The colors used to paint the ceiling are vivid and wonderful and blend superbly with the much older hammered beam ceiling that features the busts of saints. The altar of this cathedral is notable for the fact that was the assembly point for the barons who had decided to draw up a Charter of Liberties to present to King John--which became the famous Magna Carta of 1215. We encircled the Cathedral and knowing that there was much to see, then made our way into the cloisters that surround another very private garden that was used exclusively by the monks. We munched on the sandwiches I had carried on picnic benches thoughtfully provided and continued to enjoy the sun.
The Church of St. Mary:
Later, we explored the adjoining Church of St. Mary that is of similar vintage and also sports a superb hammered beam ceiling--this one ending in the busts of fabulously carved angels. This church is renowned for being the burial place of Henry VIII's favorite sister (and his youngest sibling), Mary (after whom he named the Tudor ship The Mary Rose). I read the history of her life on the plaque and the episode in HBO's The Tudors came startlingly back to me as I recalled that, at 18, she was bethrowed by Henry to the 54 year old Louis, King of France, although Henry well knew that she was in love with one of his courtiers, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Mary agreed to marry Louis provided that Henry would permit her to marry Charles after Louis passed away (I suppose, in that day and age, 54 was a grand old age and she did not expect him to live long). HBO's version has Mary murder Louis by suffocation (although the plaque did not say so). Henry sent Charles to bring the widowed queen back to England but en route, Charles secretly married Mary, much to Henry's anger. Both Charles and Mary were banished from the court and lived in disgrace for years (as it was unthinkable for a member of the royal family to marry without the king's consent). A few years later, Henry forgave them both, restored his relationship with them and they returned to court. However, a few years later, when Mary died, neither her brother Henry (who was busy with the coronation revelry for one of his six wives) nor her husband Charles (who was already wooing his next wife!) attended her funeral and burial in the Abbey Church. She was buried very simply under a stone slab with no mortuary sculpture or decoration of any kind--certainly as the plaque puts it, a most unseemly burial for the daughter of a king, a sister of a king, a wife of a king and a grandmother of queen (her grand-daughter was the poor ill-fated Lady Jane Grey who ruled England for exactly nine days before being beheaded together with her two young sons for no other reason than she was a threat).
Knowing how much I adore Tudor and Elizabethan history, one would not be surprized that I was particularly taken by this church and spent a long while at Mary's tomb (which occupies a nondescript corner of the altar). There is also a stained glass window that was installed by Queen Victoria who was fascinated by Mary's life--she is not to be confused with Mary Tudor, first-born daughter of Henry VIII by Katherine of Aragon (known as Bloody Mary) nor her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots.Nor was she ever cannonized and the Church of St. Mary in which she lies buried is not named after her. Overall, I found this church simply lovely for its rich associations with a particularly fascinating period in British History.
Sampling Suffolk's Oldest Brewery:
Walking further down the quaint narrow streets of the town, we arrived at the Green King brewery, one of the country's oldest. In the gift shop, we sampled two of the beers produced by the brewery--Old Country Hen and Old Golden Hen, both rather good especially on a warm day. We toured the museum displays and, although we had not arrived in time for a tour of the brewery, received a neat introduction to its working.
A Tour of the Theater Royal:
Right across the street was the Theater Royal, the oldest Regency theater (circa 1810-1820, this was built in 1819 and therefore just escapes the Georgian era) in the country. Today it is maintained by The National Trust and although it is a working theater whose new season actually begins today (September 1), we were given a tour of the exquisite interior by an assistant who proved to be a superb tour guide and had all his facts at his finger tips. The theater was recently restored at a cost of 6 million pounds and the refurbishment is evident. Seats in bright pink match the walls while a Classical painted frieze on the stage front and sides of the boxes form the only decoration. This theater has none of the Victorian grandeur of the London ones but it was charming and one of the nicest things we saw all day.
Back at the market square (where a street market is held every Wednesday and Saturday), we wended our way through the maze of narrow lanes that always comprise medieval market towns to browse in a few stores before we nipped inside The Nutshell, the country's tiniest pub. Indeed, no more than five men can occupy the place at a time and when Bash stood with his arms outstretched, he touched both sides of the pub. It is aptly named and is a tourist curiosity.Other places of note in Bury are the Mosye Hall where a Norman crypt that we entered forms a modern day gift store for a small museum that is located further inside the building.
We had done Bury justice and having spent almost five hours in the town decided to stop at the Scandinavian Tea Shop for a pot of tea and coffee walnut cake. Then, it was time to get back into the car for the long drive back to London. We got caught up for an hour in awful accident-related traffic near Wembley but we did arrive at Red Sky, a newly-opened shisha lounge at which Bash wanted me to meet two of his friends, a scholarly Bangladeshi named Mohammed and an Indian student who is college-bound soon to the University of Birmingham named Urvi. I spent a good hour with them over a chocolate milk shake and chicken kebab rolls before we got in the car again, stopping off only at Kensington to pick up tickets for an excursion to what Bash called "Bucks Palace" and then we were driving to Amen Court through Central London's theater district that was garishly illuminated.
Back at Amen Court, Bash stayed for a quick cup of coffee with Cynthia and Micahel before disappearing into the night. Cynthia and I enjoyed some herbal tea before we too called it a day. My unexpected excursion to Bury St. Edmunds turned out to be a really interesting one and I was so glad that Bash did the driving and allowed me a chance to take in its long and varied history.
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