Friday, March 29, 2013

Off and Away--Goodbye Dear London

Saturday, March 23, 2013:
Goodbye to London


I set my alarm from 5. 15 am with the idea of leaving the house by 5. 45 am to catch the 6. 03 am train from Holborn Tube station to get me to Heathrow airport. It was my idea to hail a cab from Amen Court to get to Holborn but when I was ready to leave, I found that Edward was awake and offering to drop me by car to Holborn station. Needless to say, I was deeply grateful as it had begun raining. Although I was very lightly packed, I knew I would have a hard time trying to find a cab in the rain. The lift to Holborn made things very easy indeed and off I went on the earlier train (the 5. 50 am) to arrive at Heathrow at 7. 15 am. I was well in time to get into the line to reclaim the VAT on my Burberry jacket although the line moved slowly and it took me about half an hour to get to the front. Still, it was worth it.

I checked in, got my boarding pass and then set out to enjoy all my favorite stores in lovely spanking new Terminal 5 which is like one huge shopping mall. It wasn’t long before I was airborne and looking forward to a reunion with Llew after two whole weeks (somehow it felt longer).

It was still raining when we left London and within seconds all visibility was obliterated as we climbed ever higher into the sodden skies en route to America.

Bye for now, London. I will see you again soon, God willing.



A Day Out in Kent

Friday, March 22, 2013: Isle of Sheppey, Kent

A Visit to My Cousin in Kent:

As in the case of my visit to my Dad’s cousin, Sybil, so too today, Joel offered to drive me to Kent so that we could spend the morning with our cousin, Cherry who is married to a lovely man named David. I took the Tube to Clapham South as instructed by Joel. He met me there at 9, 00 am and off we went all the way to Kent where the Cranes live on the Isle of Sheppey. The long drive gave Joel and me the chance to catch up on the many years that have elapsed since we were closely in contact but we did reach our destination at 11. 00 am.

Cherry had prepared a lovely meal for us: Fish Cakes, Chips, Mushy Peas—a typically English lunch. It was delicious when accompanied by the white wine she served. For dessert, because she knows how fond of them I am, she served profiteroles with vanilla ice-cream. Indeed, we felt spoiled by their attention and before we knew it, it was time to leave.

Back to Parson's Green:
I requested Joel to drop me off at Parsons Green as I made the decision to buy the sheepskin coat—and indeed that was what he did. In-between we lost our way but I was thrilled as we ended up in Greenwich where I had the pleasure of perusing Christopher Wren’s masterworks at the Royal Maritime College, abeit from a passing car. Eventually, of course, we did get to the shop where I bid goodbye to Joel, picked up my buy and hopped back on the bus to return to St. Paul’s.

I spent the evening sorting through my baggage and packing carefully. Cynthia made us a delicious dinner: Tuna Fish Pie topped with fluffy cheesy mashed potato, steamed carrots and peas and fat chipolata sausages that I had bought with the idea of enjoying them before I leave the UK. For dessert, she served mulberries from her own tree and stewed apple with ice-cream and honey—so yummy. It was fabulous to sit with the Colclough family for the last time and to enjoy a companionable meal with them. Indeed they had been deeply hospitable and I was thrilled to have enjoyed their home and their company for the entire week.



My Favorite London Bits and Bobs and Two Temple Place

Thursday, March 21, 2013: London


Although I will be in London tomorrow, I really do consider today my last one in the city as I will be in Kent tomorrow with scarcely any time to do very much.

So I suppose I used today to do the things I always do when I am in London. My day flew as I flew from one venue to the next on a day when the rain abated but only slightly to enable me to get around. Here’s how I spent my last whole day in London:

1. 8.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral

2. Twinnings Tea Company for a Tea Tasting:
This was a very unique experience conducted by a tea specialist who brewed three different teas for me (including a white tea). She explained the quality and compositional differences of the different leaves and their brews and then treated me to a cup of any favorite tea of my choice. I chose Darjeeling which was very soothing on another grey and chilly morning.

3. Cornish Artists Exhibition at Two Temple Place:
It was my friend Barbara who told me about this unique exhibition. I entered an extraordinary private home that was constructed for the Astors, the American millionaire family with British business interests, right off the Embankment. The exhibition featured the work of artists based in Cornwall in small seaside towns that have become synonymous with painters and their work. On a past visit to Cornwall, I had visited the Tate St. Ives (Art Gallery) as well as the sculptor Barbara Hepworth's House and Museum and had passed through the fishing town of Newlyn where the quality of the light is so special that many artists congregated there. Well, this exhibition featured all of their work in styles that were comfortingly realistic, representative of the fishing, sailing and mining lifestyles of this seafaring folk and reminiscent of their simple country pleasures. Indeed it made a charming collection and I was very pleased to have seen it.

But, most of it, I was absolutely thrilled by the house—Two Temple Place—in which the exhibition was held. It was the last word in splendor, especially designed and constructed for a man who wished to have a grand London city home filled with reminders of the books and the music that he loved. So, one ascends to the higher floor on a fabulous wooden staircase punctuated with finely-carved figures representing characters from Astor’s favorite novel of all time, Alexander Dumas’ The Three Musketeers. Gigantc stained glass windows, embellished marble fireplaces, stunning mantelpieces, gloriously decorated pendant ceilings, intricate parquet flooring contribute to making this house an absolute wonder and one every visitor to London should see. Guided tours are available if one becomes a member but an art exhibition such as the one I attended is the perfect excuse to wander around these grand enivrons.

4. Bus No. 11 Ride to Victoria from Fleet Street.
I have told every visitor to London what a great deal the No. 11 bus route is. If you can find a seat on the upper deck at the very front, the picture windows will provide a sightseeing jaunt that no tour bus can beat for the red buses glide slowly through the streets, stopping frequently and providing unending opportunities for photography. I caught the bus on Fleet Street, passed by The Strand, got to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery, entered Whitehall where I spotted the Banqueting Hall, saw the Horse Guards at the Horse Guards Parade, The Cenotaph commemorating the Glorious Dead, glimpsed No. 10 Downing Street, Home of Britain’s Prime Minister, arrived at Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, saw Westminster Abbey, St. Margaret’s Church and Dean’s Yard, then sailed down Victoria Road passing Scotland Yard to arrive at Victoria Station.

I then got off and rode the bus in the opposite direction to return to Fitzrovia where I had a lunch date with my friend and colleague Mahnaz.

5. Lunch with Mahnaz at Brasserie Blanc:
Although my NYU colleague Mahnaz and I had decided to meet at the Fitzroy Tavern which is a landmark in Fitzrovia (it was the haunt of a number of literary lights in the early to mid-20th century), once she arrived there, we decided to find someplace more lively to eat as the bar was half-closed when we got there.

Having spotted Brasserie Blanc, one of the restaurants owned by Raymond Blanc, a legendary French chef who has made the UK his home (his star creation is Le Manoir Des Quatre Saisons in Oxfordshire which I have yet to visit), I suggested we try out his offerings. Mahnaz was game and we settled down to non-stop chatter as we went for the Selection Varies—a platter of assorted nibbles for two people served with crusty bread and butter. Everything was delicious from the Celery Remoulade to the Carrot Salad, from the wedge of lightly sautéed salmon to the peppery cold cuts, from the chunky potato salad with its note of Dijon mustard to the smoked fish relish. It was the perfect choice and we ate well. Mahnaz, however, had just over an hour before she rushed off for her next appointment, so I said goodbye and moved on.

6. A Visit to Pollock’s Toy Museum:
I had read about Pollock’s Toy Museum in the English Home magazine and expected it to be a prominent structure. It turned out to be a small shop in Bloomsbury, just off Charlotte Street, which sold old-fashioned toys. To actually see the museum which contained antique toys one had to enter a cordoned area by paying 6 pounds. I have to say that I contented myself merely looking at the toys in the shop and left.

7. Visit to Mary Portas’ Living and Giving Shop in Parsons Green:
From Bloomsbury, I took a bus and rode all the way through Chelsea and into Parsons Green. Indeed Chelsea is one of my favorite parts of London. I love its chic stores and the Sloan Ranger look of its inhabitants. I hopped off at the Oxfam charity stores that stud the area where I always end up finding interesting vintage jewelry or old silk scarves. No such luck this time round. However, I caught the 22 bus and sailed all the way to Parsons Green, an area unknown to me, to see the charity shop of Mary Portas, a woman labelled Mary, Queen of Shops. She had a brilliant TV show when I lived in London that taught women how to shop the charity shops and create million dollar looks for pennies. The success of her show led her to create her own chain of Mary Portas shops, the flagship of which was in Parsons Green. I have to admit that the contents of her shop were really exciting. Although very well priced, it was still more expensive than rates in US thrift shops and I did not really find any jewelry worth having. Still, a really fine sheepskin coat caught my eye and I wondered how I would possibly haul such a great coat back to the States. Best to sleep on it, I thought.

8. Bus to Harrods at Knightsbridge:
Of course, I cannot leave London without visiting Harrods, so there I was, hopping a bus to get to Knightsbridge and then charging through the Food Halls and the souvenir stands looking for bargains. Sadly, there were none to be had, so I made a right about turn and walked out.

9. Bus to Piccadilly to Fortnum and Mason:
Since my other favorite food shopping venue is Fortnum and Mason, off I went on the next bus to Piccadilly to browse around the offerings there. Once again, I found that lack of sales made shopping expensive and after having a poke around and finding nothing new, I left.

10. Back home to Amen Court for my last meal:
I returned to Amen Court with the idea of sharing a meal with my friends when they included me in another dinner invitation issued by another one of their house guests from New York, John. We debated many possibilities and finally settled on The Hare and the Tortoise, a pan-Oriental chain of restaurant that offers a gigantic soup known as a Curry Laksa which I had enjoyed in Singapore and which I always order from this chain. John ate Sashimi (Fresh raw fish) while Cynthia went for Beef in Black Bean Sauce. The entire meal was superb but I left my friends to linger over dessert and coffee as I rushed off once again.

11. Tea with Tim and Barbara in Holborn:
For old times’ old, I wanted to visit my former building in Holborn and since I needed to deliver a bottle of Port wine that I had carried from Portugal to Tim and Barbara, I was offered the perfect excuse to get to there after dinner to enjoy a nice cup of lemon-ginger tea. I spent about an hour with my friends just gabbing until it was clear we were all ready to hit the sack. So I took my leave, left and got on to a bus back to Amen Court.

And thus ended another lovely day in London


Meeting Friends--Old and New--Mercers Hall and More Theater

Wednesday, March 20: London


Today was devoted to meeting up with old London friends who either go back a long way with me or are recent but very firm buddies. After 8.00 am mass, I took a bus to Holborn to eat my very favorite breakfast while in England—which is not English at all! It is an almond croissant and a hot chocolate at Paul’s Patisserie. This is a Belgian chain that has no presence yet in the USA—hence, whenever I get the chance to enjoy one of its treats, I go for it. It makes baked goods that are second to none and this was precisely the first breakfast that Llew and I had eaten the very first morning that I had arrived to live in London, four years ago. So as I nursed my croissant and my hot chocolate, my mind went back to that morning which had proven to be the harbinger of such an incredible year in my life.

Off to Euston to Meet Emma:
With about 45 minutes at my disposal, I took a bus from Kingsway to Euston for my first appointment of the day—a meeting at the concealed Café Rouge to meet Emmy Sweeney, my colleague at NYU-London, whom I had gotten to know and grew fond of when I had lived in London. Emma arrived just a few minutes after I did and, as you might guess, we spent the next hour and a half simply catching up on all the exciting things that have happened in our lives. We discovered, in the process, that we have so much in common. But before we knew it, it was time for me to say goodbye, after making the great discovery that being in Euston, I could easily get to Harrow and Wealdstone on a superfast train instead of taking the Tube. Emma directed me to the platforms and left.

Meeting Bash in Harrow:
I had about an hour to spend with my friend Bash whom I had gotten to know four years ago in London. Over the years, Bash has stayed friends with me and sportingly driven me to spots of interest around London on memorable daytrips that have introduced both of us to wonderfully charming venues. This time, all we could afford was an hour together at Café Nero in South Harrow which Bash often uses as an ad hoc office. Once again, I downed a coffee with the intention of saving my appetite for lunch later on. And once again, Bash and I chatted nineteen to the dozen knowing that was all the time at our disposal.

Lunch with Bina in Harrow:
Bash drove me back to Harrow and Wealdstone station for my next appointment with my childhood friend Bina who lives nearby. We had grown up together and go back a long long way to our school days in Bombay and to nights spent studying together for our high school board exams. Bina and her husband Navin are now empty nesters and their home in which I have stayed on many past visits to London seemed different without the presence of their kids, now both at “uni”.

Still, when Bina arrived at the station to pick me up and drive me to her house, it gave us the opportunity to catch up on so much. A great chef, she had created a simple but delicious home-cooked meal for me with rice, chapattis, dal, spinach with cottage cheese and a chicken curry. How good it felt to have a genuine Indian meal after such a long time! Much as I would have liked to stay on, I was on horseback, for I had more appointments to keep later that evening. Bina dropped me back at the station, I jumped into the superfast train and was delighted to reach Euston in under 10 minutes. It was simply incredible!

Exploring Fitzrovia:
Since I had an hour to spare before my next appointment, I wandered to Fitzrovia to continue the last bits of Karen’s Bohemian Ink Walk. At Fitzroy Square, I discovered the neighborhood in which one of my favorite novelists, Ian McEwan lives and had a chance to visit the Indian YMCA, in which Mahatma Gandhi had lived while he was a student in London. The hostel is still impeccably maintained for essentially Indian students and I thought it was a good place to keep in mind for future long stays in London.

Lenten Sermon at the Mercer’s Hall:
Then, I was on a bus again making my way to Bank for a rather interesting interlude with a Benedictine monk who would be preaching a Lenten sermon in the imposing and quite gorgeous Mercer’s Hall on Ironmonger’s Lane at Cheapside. My friend Michael is a Chaplain to the Mercers who, he explained, were wool merchants. The Worshipful Company of Mercers has their London headquarters at Cheapside and are among the rare companies whose premises actually contains a chapel inside it.

It was just before the service that I met my dear friend Loulou who was also invited to join the service by the Colcloughs. How happy I was to see Loulou again! I introduced her to Cynthia who had saved three seats for us and for the next hour or so I gave myself up to the wonderful choir, the stirring readings, the excellent sermon preached by a Catholic clergyman in an Anglican chapel and to the pomp and pageantry that characterize such events in a setting that was little short of sumptuous.

The hour long service was followed by a wine and snack reception during which I introduced Michael to Loulou. He pulled me aside to show me a wonderful sculpture of the Dead Christ that had recently been discovered deep in the bowels of the building and which probably precedes the Reformation when it might have been concealed underground. It will be at the Tate Museum for a little while before finding a permanent place in the Mercer’s Hall. Meanwhile, drinks did the rounds—I opted for a glass of sherry as the sandwiches and “things on sticks” were offered by wait staff. We had to leave before the desserts appeared, however, as Loulou and I had theater plans and we did not wish to be late.

The Judas Kiss at the West End with Loulou:
So off we went on the Tube to the Duke of York Theater in the West End to see yet another drama—The Judas Kiss by David Hare, based on the life of Oscar Wilde and his clandestine homosexual relationship with the very young Lord Alfred Douglas known as Bosie. I had chosen to see this play as I have a soft corner for Rupert Everet who played Wilde. I had seen Everet on stage before, several years ago, in The Importance of Being Ernest also by Oscar Wilde, so it was great to actually see him play Wilde. Having said that, I must also state that I had difficulty recognizing him—he was made to put on enormous weight for the role. The play is a sad commentary on the hypocrisy that surrounded homosexuality in the 19th century in the UK and the terrible discrimination to which Wilde was subjected simply because he did not possess a peerage in the way that Bosie did. What I did not expect, however, was the stark male nudity on stage that would probably not be acceptable in the States. Young gorgeous bodies cavorted about without the slightest self-consciousness and yet it appeared perfectly natural within the context of the script.

As in the case of Rosemary, so too with Loulou—we simply had to get somewhere after the play to sit and chat. We chose Café La Rocha, another little French café right opposite the theater and there we enjoyed a cappuccino as we brought the curtain down on a lovely evening with similar promises to get together again soon.

The Suburb of Chiswick and its Historic Houses

Tuesday, March 19, 2013: On the Outskirts of London


A Daytrip Ahead:
I had devoted this day entirely to my new friend Raquel, a fairly-new American expatriate in London, and our plans to see some spots in Chiswick on the outskirts of the city. We have a mutual friend named Amy based in New York who brought up together in cyberspace. After my oatmeal breakfast and a shower at Amen Court, I intended to join up with Raquel but she called to inform me that she had an urgent doctor’s appointment and would be delayed.

Food Shopping and A Brief Visit to the National Gallery:
No problem, I thought. This lull in my unceasing activity would give me pause to get to the National Gallery which is one of my favorite places in London and where I always go, on every single visit, to say hello to my favorite canvasses. I would also be able to do some of my food shopping for I hadn’t accomplished much in that department thus far.

After 8 am, Mass, I took the bus and went directly to Sainsbury at Holborn to pick up masses of Bourbon Chocolate Biscuits and to Marks and Sparks for my Fruity Flapjack Biscuits. A quick nip into Waitrose at Holborn to buy Ainsley Herriot’s powdered packaged soups drew a blank—I realized I would need to get to a larger Waitrose for those. Back at Amen Court, I deposited my shopping and sped off by bus to the National Gallery at Trafalgar Square where I spent the next couple of hours visiting my favorite works (Zurbaran’s haunting Portrait of St. Francis, Constable’s rustic Haywain, Stubbs' Whistlejacket, Gainsborough’s Mr and Mrs, Andrews, Caravaggio’s Christ at Emmaus, Turner’s The Fighting Temeraire, the Execution of Lady Jane Grey by Paul DelaRoche, The Graham Children by William Hogarth, the room devoted entirely to works by Renaissance Italian artist Carlo Crivelli and finally my favorite work in the entire museum, Pieter de Hooch’s Courtyard of a House in Delft). I also spent a while in the museum shop looking for a particular bookmark—Rogier van der Weyden’s Magdalen Reading. What a bummer to discover that it is now out of stock! Oh well! At least I did see much-loved works and although I would have loved to stay longer, Raquel did call to tell me she was ready to keep our date.



Off to Chiswick House and Gardens:
I hopped on to the Tube at Charing Cross to get to Turnham Green Tube Station where Raquel and I planned to connect. What a coincidence to discover that we were on the same train! The plan of action was to get to Chiswick House, a grand Palladian manor in the town of the same name and to explore its fabulous gardens.

Only we discovered as we got out of the Tube station that there were snazzy shops galore to tempt us on Chiswick High Street and, before we knew it, we were dallying in and out of our favorite places—mainly the charity shops which I find endlessly fascinating. Raquel kept exclaiming at the opportunity to survey these shops for although she lives in Central London, she is nowhere close to the main shopping arcades.

Fifteen minutes of a brief walk later, we were skirting the vast acreage of Chiswick House and Gardens. Its dome and Palladian rotunda came into sight as we passed by smartly-attired suburbanites walking their dogs in the garden. Inspired by Andrea Palladio’s Villa La Capra near Vicenza in Italy, the house was built by Lord Burlington, an avid traveler and collector of Neo-Classical art. Sadly, when we got to the main entrance, we discovered that a Camellia Festival was on throughout the month of March which would leave the house open only at the weekends. I was frustrated and annoyed as this is the second time I have made the pricey journey to Chiswick House only to find entry prohibited—three years ago, I was there with my friend Amy and we had drawn a similar blank.

However, since Raquel and I were starving and the Chiswick Café is well reputed, we sat down to have lunch: Spinach Quiche with a Salad, a Fruit Scone with Butter and Strawberry Jam (how can you visit England and not eat a scone, right?) and a lovely Mixed Nut Tart washed down with Elderflower cordial—all of which were simply scrumptious. Over lunch, we got to know each other and discovered that we have so much in common. Don’t you just love it when you hit it off instantly with a new friend?

Lunch done, we strolled at leisure through Chiswick Gardens taking in the follies dotted all over it from ornate gateways designed by Inigo Jones to stone bridges over lilting streams filled with mallard life. While we explored, the sun actually came out to play peekaboo for just a few minutes—a sight that so lifted poor sun-deprived Raquel’s heart that she wished to sit put on a bench and simply bask in it! More photo ops were provided by obelisks and sculpture in the park and although the flowering bushes were still dormant, we had little doubt that summer would soon bring lush color to the space.


Hogarth’s House:
Knowing that the 18th century painter, William Hogarth, lived only a hop, skip and jump from Chiswick House, we asked for directions and used Raquel’s I-phone to find our way to the home of Hogarth along quiet suburban streets with the occasional passing car and giddy uniformed school girl getting home for tea. About fifteen minutes later, we found the spot and entered the brick-walled enclosed garden with its legendary 300 year old mulberry tree.

William Hogarth, one of the most merciless satirists of his time, lived in this late 17th century house from 1749 until his death in 1764. Entry to the house is free and we were also free to wander at will through the rooms that were filled with prints of his many series of engravings such as Marriage a la Mode, Gin Lake, The Rake’s Progress and Beer Street (the originals are in Sir John Soanes House in Holborn) and some items of 18th century domestic life.

A visit to Hogarth’s House would not be complete without a short walk to the church yard of St. Nicholas on the banks of the Thames where his grave might be visited. But Raquel was already exhausted and I had been there before (with Amy). We, therefore, elected to stroll back to the Tube station but not before dallying one more time in the enticing shops and stopping for a cuppa at Starbucks.

More Food Shopping at Waitrose:
Raquel and I parted company on the Tube at Earl’s Court where we needed to make our respective connections. I intended to get to Knightsbridge to pause for a bit at Harrods’s but when I alighted at Gloucester Road, I found myself outside a gigantic Waitrose that carried the Ainsley Herriot soups I’d coveted. So with many of those packets in my bags, I jumped on a bus headed to Ludgate Hill and reached home by 8.00 pm.

Dinner at Has Turkish Restaurant:
As it turned out, I was just in time to accept an invitation from Mark, a mutual friend, to join him and the Colcloughs for dinner. I was delighted as I had no other plans. With the Colclough sons, Aidan and Edward, we made our way towards Cheapside where we found the lovely Turkish restaurant called Has. At the recommendation of Cynthia and the boys, I opted for the Mixed Grill platter which contained grilled chicken, lamb and beef steak—all served with a piquant yoghurt sauce and flat bread. Cynthia’s decision to go for the Mixed Mezze platter was brilliant for she had a variety of offerings from which to nibble. However, my dessert, Kadefi, a sweet treat to which I had become introduced during my Middle Eastern travels in Jordan and Egypt was very good indeed. It was a great way to catch up with all the doings in the lives of my dear friends as well as to find out about Mark’s work in London (he was visiting from New York). By 10.00 pm, we were all back home and I could collect my thoughts and decide how I would spend my last few days in the city.



Drive to Surrey, Shopping, Dinner, Theater

Monday, March 18, 2013: London


Off to Woking on a Mission of Mercy:
One of the items on my To-Do List on this trip to London was a visit to my Dad’s cousin, Sybil, who following a stroke, a year ago, was confined to a hospice in Woking, Surrey. Since I am very fond of Sybil and grateful to her for all the hospitality she has showered on me over the years on my visits to London, I was keen to make the time and the trip to see her. Fortunately, her ex-husband Joel of whom I am fond, offered to meet me at Hounslow East Tube station from where he drove me for 45 minutes to the Princess Christian Care Home in Woking where I found Sybil fast asleep at about 11 am. Our visit lasted an hour and I was relieved to find my dear relative comfortable and well cared for by medical professionals who are competent and efficient. An hour later, Joel drove me back to Hounslow station from where I took the Tube for my next appointment.

A Business Meeting at Queen Mary College, Mile End:
Prof. Alison Blunt and I have been in correspondence for a few years now as both of us share similar research interests in the South Asian diaspora—she as a geographer and I in Cultural Studies. When she extended an invitation to me to meet her to discuss our common research interests, I accepted eagerly. Mile End lies at the East End of London not too far from Whitechapel. It has a huge South Asian ethnic, mainly Muslim, population—which makes Alison well-positioned for the studies in which she specializes. Over a lovely warming cup of milky coffee, Alison and I discussed our current and forthcoming publications and the forthcoming projects in which she is collaborating with a number of easily recognizable names in the field. She photocopied some of her recent work for me and we made promises to stay in touch and consider collaborations of our own before I took my leave, an hour later, to enable her to get to a class she was teaching. Queen Mary College has a sprawling campus in the East End and going by the students I saw, I can say that it is multi-cultural and multi-racial and a very fertile ground for the continuation of the studies we are currently undertaking.

A Disappointment at Whitechapel Art Gallery:
Since I was only a few bus stops away from Whitechapel Art Gallery at Aldgate East Tube station, I hopped on to a bus going west with the intention of visiting the gallery that has acquired a great deal of fame for the quality of its ever-changing installations. Alas, when I did arrive there, about a half hour later, it was to discover that the gallery is closed on Mondays. I must say that the lobby was impressive and I have little doubt that I shall make the effort to return to the space on a future visit.

Shopping for Favorite Goodies:
With time to spare before my next appointment, I hurried to Bury Street in Bloomsbury to a small shop I have patronized over the years called Bury Foods where I have always bought my supply of Darjeeling Tea and Border’s Dark Chocolate Covered Ginger Biscuits. Again, I had a disappointment in store—for while my biscuits were available, my preferred tea was all sold out. Still, I corralled my supplies and left the store before walking towards Charlotte Street for my next appointment with my friend Rosemary.

Dinner at Brasserie Zedel and Theater (Old Times) with Rosemary:
My good buddy Rosemary got off work at 5. 45 pm and met me in her office building from where, after an affectionate reunion, we headed off to keep our dinner and theater plans. Rosemary had made reservations at Brasserie Zedel, a vast basement eatery that was part of a huge complex containing a bar, a dance club, a comedy club, etc. Its distinctly French ambiance was quite exciting to me and when we sat ourselves down and surveyed the menu, Rosemary settled on two starters while I had the Boeuf Bourgignon, a most hearty concoction served over mashed potatoes in a gigantic Yankee-sized portion that was flavorful and succulent—maybe the best I’ve ever had. Again, it warmed the cockles of my heart for we had walked across the city from Fitzrovia to Shaftestbury in a downpour and I was grateful for the steaming stew.

Rosemary and I settled the bill, decided to have coffee and dessert after the play and hurried off to the Harold Pinter Theater on Panton Street to watch a Harold Pinter play—Old Times, with a dazzling star cast consisting of Kristen Scott-Thomas, Rufus Sewell and Lia Williams. In classic Pinter style, the play was confusing, bewildering, open to multiple interpretations but riveting in the quality of the acting and the brilliance of the dialog. However, at the end of the show, both of us felt the need to sit somewhere with a coffee to try to piece together the disjointed bits of what he had just seen and understood. Together we were able to cobble a sensible conclusion to a largely plotless drama.

Then off we went to Piccadilly to Café Richoux—a sort of intimate, atmospheric French coffee house that is so popular in London and that I have grown to love. We sat down with coffee and shared a large slice of Dark Chocolate Hazelnut Mousse Cake which was simply fabulous. As we chatted about our impressions of the play and caught up with so many other aspects of our lives, time flew but we kissed and parted—Rosemary to take a bus to Battersea where she lives, me to get to Amen Court on another bus—with the promise that we would meet again, hopefully soon.



St. James' Chapel, Bohemian Walk, Spencer House, etc.

Sunday, March 17, 2013: London

Service at the Royal Chapel of St. James’ Palace:
Whenever I am in London, I make it a point to attend Sunday services at one of the extraordinary historic chapels or churches in order to admire their architecture and treat myself to a brilliant Anglican sermon. In keeping with this personal tradition, I had voiced to Michael my desire to attend service at The Royal Chapel attached to St. James’ Palace which was scheduled at 8. 30 am. Needless to say, I had done my research and had discovered that this was meant to be a private chapel exclusively for the members of the royal family stationed at St. James’ Palace (which is located at the end of Pall Mall). Now, of course, it is open to members of the public for worship on Sundays in the winter. After Easter, services shift to the newer Queen’s Chapel on Marlborough Street (which, no doubt, I shall visit on a future trip to London).

Cynthia and her son Aidan decided to come along with me. How thrilling to hear Mass in a palace! A real royal palace that is still used by the current monarchy, that is. In this Old Chapel, Elizabeth I had worshipped. King George III and his Queen Charlotte had brought their 14 children to services here. Queen Victoria had married her beloved Prince Albert in this space. We trooped in, took our seats in the choir stalls and awaited the arrival of the main celebrant who happened to be a personal friend of the Colcloughs—Fr. Scott. While we waited, I had the opportunity to admire the fabulous Commonwealth Window which features a massive tree of Life whose branches carry the names of every single one of the countries in the British Commonwealth as well as the stunning ceiling designed by none other than Hans Holbein with its repeating motif of Agnus Dei (Lamb of God). I was ecstatic to worship in this environment added to which the service was simply moving. Fr. Scott preached a meaningful sermon and although there wasn’t the superb choir that I also associate with Anglican worship, there was the Eucharist which I received. Overall, I was so pleased to have had the privilege of worshipping in this hallowed space and as we left the chapel to wander off, I couldn’t help thinking that my day had started off beautifully.

A Walk in Bohemia:
A few years ago, my colleague Karen who was teaching a course on Literary Bloomsbury at NYU-London with me, had devised a walking tour of the area that I had always wanted to follow myself. Since the next item on my agenda was a visit to the National Gallery of Art and since it does not open until 10 am, I had an hour with which to play around and thought it best to take a bus (No. 9) from Pall Mall and then to connect to the 24 at Trafalgar in order to get to Woborn Square where her walk began.

But first, since I actually passed by NYU’s campus at Bedford Square where I had once held offices, I could not resist getting to the main door to knock on it. As I half expected, the door was firmly shut since it was a Sunday! Oh well…at least I tried to get in for old times’ sake.

Now Woburn Square, London’s smallest, is right behind Birkbeck College where I used to teach classes a few years ago. In fact, my classroom window used to look out on to this square. This time, I paused to take a picture of the 1999 sculpture of The Green Man by Lidia Kapinska which was accompanied by a small plaque with a quotation from Virginia Woolf’s novel The Waves. I crossed the square and the street to enter Gordon Square which is dominated by an old stone church (which when I checked I discovered was open only on weekdays!). Gordon Square is most closely associated with the literary coterie that came to be known as The Bloomsbury Group. At the house at No. 50 is a black plaque that commemorates the contribution to the intellectual life of such luminaries as Virginia Woolf, her sister Vanessa Bell, her husband Leonard Woolf, the historian Dora Carrington, the literary critic Lytton Strachey, the economist John Maynard Keynes, the philosopher Bertrand Russel, the novelist E.M. Forster, and the artists Clive Bell and Duncan Grant. They brought a lively, brainy curiosity to this corner of London in the early 20th century when their experiments in literature and art breathed new life into creative production. Generations of literature aficionados have come calling to these residences to pay homage to their literary heroes. I myself paused in reverence at No. 29 where Virginia and Vanessa Stevens had lived while still unmarried in the home of their father, Lesley Stevens. Of course, their respective marriages would lend a fantastic synergy to their endeavors and make them household names.

In the gardens of Gordon Square, I discovered a sculpture of India’s best known poet Rabindranath Tagore by Shenda Amery that I found deeply moving. And since the church on the square was closed, I walked in the uncomfortably cold drizzle to the next block--Tavistock Square. It was in exploring its gardens that I arrived at the sculpture of Mahatma Gandhi seated serenely on a pedestal surrounded by sculptures of other eminent contemporaries: Leonard Woolf and Virgina Woolf. Tavistock Square attained notoriety as the site of one of the awful London bomb blasts that had taken place on July 7, 2005, killing several people on the bus on which it had been planted. There is a small plaque on the iron railings attached to the British Medical Association building on the square, designed by one of my favorite British architects of all time, Sir Edwin Lutyens, that marks this sad occurrence.

From Tavistock Square, I walked a few block north to get to Woburn Walk, a tiny pedestrian street rife with Victorian bow-windowed shops that hark back to an earlier area. The streets gas lamps and fat cobbles make it a favorite location for the shooting of period films and as I walked through the glistening street slick with the lash of relentless rain, I was transported to another era. The Irish poet W. B. Yeats had lived in a house on this street as did Charles Dickens right above a small eatery called Wot The Dickens!


Visit to St. Pancras Church, Euston:
I had to end my walk at this point in order to make it in time for my next appointment, but I have to admit that I simply could not resist a quick visit into St. Pancras Church, Euston, which was right next door to Woborn Walk. This unique church was also on my list of Churches To Visit and I was very pleased that being there on a Sunday allowed me to actually enter the church and catch the very end of a morning service. What makes St. Pancras so distinctive is its neo-Greek design inspired entirely by the Erecthion on the Acropolis in Greece. Indeed, it is built on a rectangular plinth held up by four Caryatids—or Grecian Vestal virgins—that are a striking feature of the side of the church. After spending a while in prayer and admiring the interior with its plain but very beautiful marble columns, I circumnavigated the exterior of the church, took a lot of pictures and left—wondering repeatedly about the variety of architectural styles one finds in this curious city.


Tour of Spencer House:
I hopped on to a bus then to get to Spencer House on Pall Mall, but that’s when things turned awry. It happened to be the day of London’s St. Patrick’s Day celebration and by 10.00am, Trafalgar Square where the major celebrations were being held was turned into an emerald green sea of enthusiasts wearing Kelly green outfits and hats. Buses had stopped plying around the Square and I found myself minus transport to get to Spencer House where I had made plans to meet Kent again. I was grateful for the London SIM card that enabled me to inform him of my unexpected delays as I hurriedly covered the distance across Pall Mall on foot. Meanwhile, Kent went ahead and purchased two tickets (12 pounds each) for our strictly-timed hour-long guided tour of Spencer House, which I had always wanted to visit but to which I had somehow had never gotten down.

Spencer House is open to the public only on Sundays. It is the London home of the current Earl Spencer, brother of the late Princess Diana. As a little girl, Diana would have spent her growing years in this house when she wasn’t ensconced on the family’s country estate called Althorp (pronounced All-trip) in Northamptonshire where Princess Diana is buried. The current Earl has been refurbishing Spencer House slowly and has leased a part of it to the Rothschild Group who sponsored the renovation. Luckily for the Spencers, the house was never bombed during the War and has remained intact through the centuries, the only aristocratic 18th century private home in London.

Spencer House was built in the Palladian style by John Vardy in 1756-66 in the heart of tony St. James for John, First Earl Spencer. It is indeed a showcase of classical design and as I followed the tour guide, a venerable elder who spoke as if he had a century ahead of him to finish his tour and not the skinny one hour allotted, my eye roved freely over the splendor of my surroundings. It is impossible for me to go into detail about a home that simply beggars description. Suffice it to say that if you cannot make it to Castle Howard in Yorkshire or Blenheim Place in Oxfordshire to see the handiwork of John Vanbrugh, then you must make the trip to Spencer House to get a slight taste of how the other half lived. Neither expense nor time nor trouble had been spared to create a home so opulent that you wonder how one could possibly feel at home in it. Filled with paintings, sculpture, porcelain, plus a library of showy leather tomes, the tour wound us through eight of the state rooms, each more impressive than the last. From every window, there are fabulous views of Green Park that occasionally caught a watery ray of sunshine. Since no photography is allowed in Spencer House, I had to content myself with getting a couple of shots of the superbly-appointed loos in the basement, better than any in a five-star hotel.

Sunday Roast Luncheon at the Oxford and Cambridge Club:
It’s a good job the Oxford and Cambridge Club where Kent and I had made plans to lunch was only a stone’s throw away for we were famished at the end of the tour of Spencer House and ready to chow down. Having had the Grand Tour of the premises the previous day, we headed straight for the magnificent dining room that is flanked by larger-than-life sized oil portraits of William IV and his flamboyant son George IV. The dining room was fairly full by the time we arrived there at about 1. 30 pm. We decided to go with an appetizer and a main. Kent chose the foie gras while I got the duck terrine with fruit chutney (which was amazing) and for our mains, Kent got a veal roast while I decided that in such a traditional setting, it would be most appropriate to have a traditional English Sunday Roast—this came with roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and a selection of veg (I had roast potatoes, minted peas and pureed swede). Oh, how yummy it all was and how gracious, if very slow, was the service. Alas, again, I’d have loved to linger…but I had to leave then if I were to make it on time all the way to Wimbledon where I had an invitation to Afternoon Tea.

Afternoon Tea at Wimbledon and Dinner at Amen Court:
A longish ride on the Tube with a connection at Earl’s Court and a ten-minute walk along a quiet residential street got me to the Wimbledon home of my Blog follower Murali Menon who has, over the years, become a friend. While usually Murali and I meet briefly over a cuppa or a coffee in London, this time round I was keen to meet his wife, Nina and his son Angad about whom I have heard so much through Murali’s own blog called Jest a Mon. The Menons extended an invitation to their home and put out a warm and generous Afternoon Tea spread for me. Alas, I could not do it justice as I was simply bursting with my humongous Sunday Roast. But I did tuck into Nina’s wonderful Lemon Polenta Cake whose nutty texture and flavor were unique as well as her Cheese Toast and her selection of Middle Eastern snacks from Marks and Sparks. Indeed her steaming cups of tea with lemon were very welcome as the rain continued to lash down in chilly spurts. We had so much to talk about; but best of all was getting to know the bright and vivacious Angad whose knowledge of art history was simply astonishing in one so young. Not surprisingly, he told me he intends to be an art historian when he grows up! Indeed, he was able unhesitatingly to pick out his favorite canvas in the National Gallery (the equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Van Dyke) and talk in informed fashion about the Impressionists and Pointilism. And he is still on the wrong side of ten! We played a couple of rounds of Twenty Questions and kept Angad engaged as the evening sped by.

Murali was kind enough to accompany me on the stroll back to Wimbledon station from where I made my way back home to the Colcloughs for dinner: store-bought Indian Butter Chicken with Pilaf and Naans and Ice-Cream for dessert.

So what can I say about my second day in London? Well, once again, horrid weather had made it a bummer but I was well en route to accomplishing all the items on my To-Do List and I was not disappointed.

Yesss! March 2013. Varied First Day in London Again!

Saturday, March 16, 2013:
London’s Varied Delights

The prospect of spending a week in London never fails to fill me with delight. This time round, however, I must admit I was not quite so enthusiastic. The weather this winter-spring has been terrible, going by reports on my Twitter feed from my British Tweeps. Still, since I intended to spend time mainly with friends rather than traipsing the countryside, perhaps I ought not to have felt quite so disheartened when I touched down to chilly temperatures and leaden skies.

I arrived again in London in middle March 2013 at the end of a wonderful week spent touring Portugal. I boarded a British Airways flight to London’s Heathrow airport at 7. 00 pm. at Lisbon airport. My flight was delayed by half an hour and I arrived at London not at 9 pm as expected but more like 10 pm. I hopped quite easily onto the Piccadilly Tube Tube line, got off at Holborn, hopped into a cab for the last ten minute ride to St. Paul’s where I would spend the next week with my dear friends Cynthia and Michael Colclough.
 who had stayed up to greet me although it was close to midnight and who offered a soothing English cuppa as soon as I stepped through their door (last night).

Cynthia and Michael Colclough also spoiled me daily with huge oatmeal breakfasts made from scratch with slow stirring over a stove—what the English call Porridge—jazzed up with the addition of honey, ground cinnamon, dried cranberries and raisins. It is rather a meal in itself and keeps me going quite easily until lunch time pangs.

My days in London begin with Cynthia at Mass at 8 am at St. Paul’s Cathedral where Michael is the Canon-Pastor. Perhaps the most evocative part of my home stays with them are the hourly tolling of the Cathedral bells—those deep sonorous bongs that never fails to charm me—which I hear from my room which is only seconds away from St. Paul’s imposing steps and dome. As always, the Baroque interiors of Sir Christopher Wren’s ecclesiastical architectural masterpiece excites my heart and soothes my soul and it is partly for these reasons that I look forward to daily mass when I am with the Colcloughs in London.

Outlet Shopping Spree in the East End:
My first mission, after breakfast, was to buy a weekly bus pass at the Underground Station at St. Paul’s. For under 20 pounds, I had an Oyster Card that would allow unlimited use of the red buses that I simply adore in London and whose use I have mastered.

We set out at 9 am, because it was raining and we knew our mission would take longer, Cynthia (who wished to accompany me on my first major shopping spree) and I caught bus No. 242 to get to the East End—to Hackney where is concealed one of London’s lesser-known secrets—a series of designer outlet stores where bargains might be had all year round. I had purchased a Burberry classic khaki trench coat from the Burberry outlet three years ago and it was to this store that I returned—this time, to purchase a classic black quilted riding jacket with the characteristic Burberry signature tartan detail on the collar and upturned cuffs. How thrilled I was to find that the store had undergone a major facelift since the last time I was there—it is now huge, cavernous, well-organized and holds a treasure trove of clothing items from amongst which I easily found the jacket I had come to buy—in my size and in the exact style I fancied. As for the price, well, what can I say? It was less than half the price I’d pay in retail and I was simply delighted. And what’s more, I would recover VAT tax on it at Heathrow airport on my departure—which made it an even better deal! My visit to London had gotten off to a fabulous start and I was excited.

Cynthia and I stepped back into the downpour, stopped off briefly at Acquascutum and Pringle which also have outlet stores in the same area and then took the bus back home.


Exciting Chance Encounter with the New Archbishop of Canterbury:
Now I ask you, what are the odds that I would run slap bang right into the new Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby the very week of his installation as the Church of England’s highest prelate? But that was quite simply what happened to me. Now Michael had mentioned that the Archbishop would be arriving at the Cathedral that morning for a prayer service and I had half a mind to attend it. But then, since it would interfere with the rest of my carefully drawn up schedule of the day, I dropped the idea and set off on my shopping spree.

Well, guess what? Just as Cynthia and I were crossing Paternoster Square to get to her home at Amen Corner with our buys, who should I see walking directly towards us but His Eminence himself in the company of a small coterie of faithful laity. Cynthia slunk of quickly and said goodbye but I joined the small handful of people to get some really good pictures of the cheerful priest and then accepted his invitation to join him in prayer in that significant square—right by the sculpture of the Good Shepherd (Pater Noster) where he raised his voice and prayed in the annoying persistent drizzle. I have to say that it was an extremely stirring sight—to be there, just a few feet away from this eminent man whose very modesty and rejection of pomp and splendor has already endeared him to millions was a very moving experience and I am so glad I had that opportunity. Of course, I took several pictures of him and of Richard Chartres who is the current Bishop of London and who was also in his entourage.

On Portobello Road:
I stashed my buys at Amen Corner and said goodbye to Cynthia as I made my way to Portobello Road on yet another mission. A pair of vintage diamante and pearl ear-rings that I had bought from a vintage jewelry dealer in Fairfield had been pilfered from my baggage, a year ago, when I had flown to London afrom Kennedy airport nd I was keen to find replacements. If anyone would carry a pair similar to the ones I had stolen from me, this little vintage jewelry store on Portobello Road would.

Persistent rain did not deter vast armies of people—mainly young folk—who converged upon Notting Hill for a jaunt through the faux-antique stalls of the Saturday Portobello market which I have myself frequented through the years. However, this time round, as I was on a mission, I made a beeline for the jewelry shop, had a long trawl through their offerings and was both disappointed to find the pair I was seeking unavailable and well as appalled bv the prices—for vintage jewelry definitely costs at least double in the UK compared to prices in the US. Naturally, I left the shop empty-handed, looked for a bus and hurried off to the next appointment on my agenda.

Matinee Theater Date (Quartermaine’s Terms) with a Former NYU Student:
Kent Lui and I go back a long way—he had taken my courses over a decade ago at NYU and had repeatedly used me as a reference for the jobs and the graduate studies he pursued at Oxford after NYU. Currently employed by Lloyd’s Bank in London, he is a suave, cool man about town, originally from Hongkong, but so well-traveled that he is now a Global citizen. Kent and I had made plans to meet at the Wyndmar Theater on Charing Cross to watch the 2. 30 pm matinee show of Quatermaine’s Terms, a drama starring the one and only Rowan Atkinson (of Mr. Bean fame) who has successfully made the transition from playing child-like characters on TV to serious theater (I had seen him three years ago playing Fagin in Oliver at the Drury Lane Theater in London).

I arrived a few minutes before Kent did, picked up the tickets from the box office that I had ordered online and looked for a loo. It was still raining and Kent arrived looking bedraggled after his journey from Bayswater. After an affectionate reunion, we settled down in our fabulous seats to enjoy quality drama. Quartermaine’s Terms does not boast much by way of a plot but the performances were sterling, starting with Atkinson who did a stellar job holding the dialog together—for the play is simply about a single, ageing, lonely English Language school teacher in Cambridge whose future stretches out painfully ahead of him with little to punctuate its monotony. The complex lives of his colleagues contrasts with his and in their minor dramas, he sees reflected the emptiness of his own uneventful life. I was pleased that Kent enjoyed it as much as I did as we left the theater to walk briskly in the rain to the next venue.

Afternoon Tea at The Oxford and Cambridge Club:
One of the delights to which I looked forward on this trip to London was my ability to become a member of the famed Oxford and Cambridge Club where as a Senior Associate Member of St. Anthony’s College, Oxford, I am entitled to join. Kent, who graduated from the Said School of Business in Oxford, was already a member and it was his endorsement plus that of his classmate that enabled me to acquire membership. Naturally, I was thrilled and eager to explore this hallowed institution and Kent gave me the marvelous Grand Tour of the many impressive libraries, the snooker room, the several dining halls, the well-appointed lobbies and the basement squash and sauna rooms. Membership also entitles one to use of the many rooms with en suite bathrooms but because those were occupied, we could not explore them. Being suitably impressed by my grand surroundings, I expressed my gratitude to Kent for having accomplished the paper work on my behalf and we settled down for a pot of tea on what was still a wet and depressing afternoon. However, we could not linger too long as I needed to get back to Amen Court, the Colclough residence, to change for dinner.

Dinner with my Former English Neighbors at the Babylon Roof Gardens, Kensington:
One of my great pleasures in returning to London is looking up my former neighbors at Holborn, Barbara and Tim, who are now good friends and who invariably host a memorable dinner for me in their spacious flat which is just next door to the one I had occupied when I lived in London. As Tim was once a West End chef whose skills have only sharpened with time, meals at their home are astonishing; this time round, however, he wished to introduce us to one of his favorite London restaurants—the Babylon Roof Gardens at Kensington run by the Virgin Atlantic Group and owned by its flamboyant CEO Richard Branson.

As the Colcloughs were also included in this special invitation, Tim and Barbara arrived at Amen Court where the car that they had ordered for the evening followed. We piled in and I was afforded a wonderful tour of the city by night albeit under dark and soggy skies. An elevator zipped us up to the restaurant which, for some inexplicable reason, was filled to the rafters with hordes of single women dressed to kill . After we settled down with glasses of chilled Bolinger, we ordered, having made the decision to go with a main dish and “pudding” (no apps). My choice: Grilled Cod with a Bacon and Mussels Casserole served with fingerling potatoes—and it was wonderful. But dessert truly stole the show: it was a Chocolate Praline Mousse with Lemon Sorbet. After the rather spartan meals I had eaten all week by myself in Portugal, it made a welcome change to indulge in so sophisticated a repast and to wash it down with the excellent red wine and the dessert wine called Tokkai that followed—all thanks to Tim’s gastronomic genius. Conversation flowed easily around the table as we caught up, enjoyed the stunning view from over the roof garden of London’s well-illuminated landmark buildings and felt thoroughly pampered by the personalized service that Tim’s intimacy with the restaurant wait staff brought us. Indeed, we felt thoroughly spoiled by the end of the evening.

The taxi dropped our generous hosts to their building in High Holborn before leaving us at our own doorstep at the end of what had been a truly packed and very productive first day in London for me.

So was I glad to be back in my favorite city in the world? You Bet!!!