Monday, October 31, 2016

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

Sunday, October 30, 2016
London

Morning Rush:
     Since clocks went back an hour in the middle of the night, I had re-set my own wrist-watch before I dropped off last night. Still, despite getting an extra hour to blog, review my upcoming travel plans and make my To-Do List for the coming week, plus preparing for the talk I will give at the University of Leeds on Wednesday, time flew and before I knew it, I was jumping up to have my breakfast, take a shower and still make it for the 9. 15 am Mass.
     I was off on the Tube to the Church of St. Peter in Chains (St. Peter Ad Viculum) which is one of the Royal Chapels as it is attached to the Tower of London. Not only did this excursion represent my desire to attend Mass at a different church each Sunday but it would be a good way to spend a Saturday morning--reviewing, once again, the bloodiest aspects of British History in the place in which all the drama has unfolded over the centuries.
     The journey took longer than I thought as I had to get all the way to the East and Tube trains are less frequent on weekends. The morning was extremely foggy and as I walked--no, almost ran--from Tower Hill Tube station into the Tower of London (past the guards who let you in without a ticket if you are going to Mass in the church), I noticed that the bridge posts of Tower Bridge had become invisible and that the tops of the Gherkin and the Shard were lost--it was almost as if they had never been built. For a little while, pre-Modern London was all that could be seen and it was eerie.
     Mass, as always, was a lovely service with a priest who seems to be a born raconteur. He preached a very thought-provoking sermon on the 'Lesson' as Anglicans call it: Render Unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's, etc...There were about 25 people in attendance, mostly regulars although there were a few visitors such as myself. The priest greeted us warmly at the church door at the end of Mass. A Yeoman Warder (Beefeater) stood guard at the door throughout the service and escorted the Lector to the podium and escorted him back to his seat when he finished--I would love to have a Yeoman Warder escort me back and forth when I am a Lector in my church--talk about pomp and ceremony. Well!!!
     After Mass, I waited in the Tower yard for about fifteen minutes as I listened to the harsh cawing of the Tower Ravens--a protected lot who eat 170 gms of meat each day! Digest that fact, y'all! These are the only 'wild animals' still in the Tower--at an exhibit that I looked at later, I discovered that the Tower used to be something of a zoo until the end of the 19th century when it was closed forever. It seems that English kings were fond of having exotic animals from around the world brought to them as gifts which they kept in the Tower. They often indulged in the spectacle of animal fights and visitors to the Tower often brought little cats and dogs with them to feed to lions, tigers, etc. when these animals were kept in captivity here! I do not believe that I have been to this section of the Tower before and I found it quite difficult to view. However, in this same section, a display of some of the ceramic poppies that had filled the moat in 2014 in commemoration of a centenary of the Great War, did bring me to tears. It was a brilliant way to recognize the fallen.
     I also went into the Torture Chamber for the first time--or at least I do not recall being there before--where I saw notorious instruments of torture such as the Rack and the Scavenger's Daughter (also known as the Skeffington's Irons). While the rack stretched the body, the latter compressed it and was, we were told, far more painful that the former. There were also Manacles used to hang prisoners by their wrists for long periods of time. Seriously---I now know why I cannot remember being here before. Such awful atrocities are best forgotten.
     In the White Tower, I saw the famed Line of Kings exhibit with its assortment of armory and model horses--again, not quite my cup of tea although this section, understandably, is always crawling with kids.
     The piece de resistance, of course, of a visit to the Tower of London, is the building containing the Crown Jewels and since I went there, first thing, I was able to appreciate them without the milling crowds that came later--because, believe me, this place is mobbed. I got a good look again at the Cullinan Diamonds (both I and II) and the Koh-I-noor, of course, which India keep demanding back from time to time. In addition to the crowns--my favorite is the little diamond one that Queen Victoria had specially made for her after Albert's death to go with her widow's veils--there is loads of silver plate, gold articles used at the Coronation services, massive plates used on Maundy Thursday to distribute alms in an age-old custom that the Queen still follows as well as Baptismal fonts used at royal christenings. There are scepters and orbs as well and all the regalia that goes with being a real Queen ever so often--as opposed to dressing in the ordinary clothing of mere mortals at various opening ceremonies for most of the year. I enjoyed it all, I have to say, and recalled similar visits with Llew and Chriselle over the years--and I missed them both, in the process.
     When I had my fill of the Tower and its many buildings, including the Tudor Wing where the beheadings took place--today represented by a very nice crystal pillow and a dedication to those who lives were cut short by the brutality and excesses of past ages--I saw the building in which the two little princes were held and probably murdered as well as the room in which the imprisoned Walter Raleigh wrote his History of the World. It was quite refreshing to get these lessons again in British History and I was glad I went.
     I have to say that the day was quite wretched--not only was it sunless but it was fog-ridden and really cold and I felt horribly under-clad. It was worse by the river where the fog seemed to creep right into my bones. A hot chocolate was urgently called for and I found the Armory Café where I ordered one and ate it with the chocolate cupcake I had carried with me--which, by the way, was delicious. It was probably the first gluten-free product I have ever eaten (bought for a guest at my Tea party yesterday).
   
On to Hampstead:
       It was not the best of days to visit Hampstead which is one of my favorite parts of London, but I guess I had little choice. If I wait for perfect days to see all the places I wish to traverse, I will go nowhere in England! I took the Tube from Tower Hill and in about 45 minutes, I was at Hampstead where, being far away from the river, the cold was much less noticeable. The fog had cleared somewhat and although it was grey and dull, it didn't seem as terrible as it had been at the Tower--where, the weather, seemed really appropriate on the Eve of Halloween.
     I spent some time in the thrift shops at Hampstead and indulged myself in a lovely necklace from Zara that I picked up, unbelievably, for 4 pounds! Now you know why I haunt these charity shops. This find resided in a shop run by Mary Portas who has become known as the Queen of Charity Shopping in the UK and who has set up these shops with proceeds that go directly to Save The Children and other charities. So, not only do I get bargains, but I am contributing to alleviating suffering in the world as well! After I had done the rounds of a few on the High Street and in side lanes, I walked through another favorite lane--Flash Walk--where a few consignment and antiques shops called my name. I almost bought a beautiful set of bisque porcelain vases but there were a few chips in them and the thought of transporting them to the US put me off although the price was perfect. So I left them behind and walked on.

Visiting Burgh House and the Ribeiro Exhibition:
     There are several houses in Hampstead that are very well-known and that I have visited on past trips: Keats' House, Kenwood House, Fenton House, Goldfinger's House, etc. But I had never been to Burgh House (where entry is free) and which is one of the 'London Shh' group of historic homes. On doing some research, a few days ago, I found out that there would be an exhibition by an Indian Goan artist named Lancelot Ribeiro on after October 26. That's why I kept a visit to Burgh House for this weekend.
        I was very fortunate to find the house really quickly on a side street. It is only open from a few days a week and is known for its café. Being that it was so cold, I was amazed to see people sitting on garden furniture outside the café. Inside, the house is an 18th century mansion in Queen Anne style. It was one of the first mansions to come up in Hampstead which was then known as a spa town of sorts for tis medicinal wells--hence, the names of roads such as Well Walk, etc. It was built in 1704 for Henry and Hannah Sewell and has now been left to the nation. It retains its beautiful stairway, its ornamented fireplaces and mantels and its crown molding in every room. Today, the house is used for art exhibitions although the top floor is a lovely museum recording Hamsptead life through the centuries.

Viewing the Ribeiro Exhibition:
     The Ribeiro exhibition was deeply moving for me as I was able to identify with a lot of the items on display. Lancelot was the half-brother of the far more famous Indian Goan artist, Francis Newton Souza (known as F. N. Souza) who made his home in New York. Ribeiro arrived in the UK in 1953--the same era as the vast numbers of Anglo-Indians whom I have interviewed for my forthcoming book. Letters written by his mother to him from Bombay, his Indian passports, his passage on the Mooltan steamer to the UK, his traveling iron, the wooden toys he fashioned for his daughter Marsha and other memorabilia are lovingly displayed in an exhibition that was curated among other people by her. I had the pleasure of meeting and chatting with Marsha. She informed me that Ribeiro's fame is now growing and that although in the small space only a few of his smaller works could be shown, there will be on-going exhibitions at the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum plus talks on the artist, etc. in the year to come. She also invited me to a lecture at the British Museum this coming Sunday to be followed by a reception at the Grosvenor Hotel. Since I am in the city next Sunday, I will probably attend.
     Ribeiro's work shows drastic changes in style through the decades. There are very modernist Abstract paintings of Bombay, there are feathered watercolors of Hampstead Heath where he often walked and picnicked with his family, there are geometricals, there are self-portraits and portraits of his family members, there are religious paintings and representations of Christ borne out of his Indo-Portuguese Catholic background--there is really a wealth of material to engage the viewer and to get to know the late artist who died in 2010.  Chatting with Marsha, I was offered more insights into his life and work and came away feeling deeply moved by it all.

Back Home for a Quiet Evening:
     I was seriously exhausted by the time I left Hampstead. There was still light (as we'd put clocks back, remember?) and I'd have loved to have rambled around some more in some of my favorite little lanes in the area. But I was simply too bushed. My lower back ached and I urgently had to get back home to relax. I also took one wrong train when I made a connection, but retraced my steps soon enough and got home within the hour.
     Once home at 6.00 pm, I simply threw myself on my bed and had a half hour's nap. I awoke to Facetime with Llew for about half an hour and then sat down to have something to eat. I had lasagna (from my freezer), aloo gobhi and some Tandoori Fish (also from my freezer). As you can see, I am trying again to finish up everything in my fridge as ten days from now, I will be moving out of this lovely place.
     I watched the third part of Tutankhamun as I ate. I have become hooked to this superb show starring Max Irons (Jeremy's son) in the role of Howard Carter with Sam Neil as Lord Carnavaron. It is simply spell-binding and although I know the bare bones of the story of the discovery of the tomb, I have to say that I am learning a lot about the official political and personal squabbling that occurred in the process.  This is really great TV, in my opinion (all shot on location). As I watched, I could hear the explosion of occasional fireworks as there are a lot of Hindus in Ealing and with Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights, being celebrated today, there was general festivity in the air.
     It was about 10.00 pm when I fell asleep after what had been a truly tiring day. I seem to have overdone it after a long time and I  will definitely need to rest tomorrow.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio... 

Perusing Favorite Bits and Bobs at the V&A Museum and Afternoon Tea at Home with Friends

Saturday, October 29, 2016
London

Morning Preparation for the Rest of the Day:
      Saturday morning, while the rest of London has a much-deserved lie-in, is a good time to catch up on all things lap-topy: such as writing a blog post, responding to email, reviewing plans for the week, etc. After breakfast (which will be bagels with cream cheese and croissants with peanut butter and Nutella for the next few days as I have run out of muesli and do not wish to buy any more as I will be traveling again soon), I had a quick shower.
     I then stepped out to Morrisons to buy some goodies for Afternoon Tea as I have a few friends coming over this evening. I bought a Black Forest Cake, some cheese sandwich biscuits from Tucs (as I needed something savory), croissants and bagels for myself and some single cream for my coffee. I returned home, stashed away my eats and cleaned up my kitchen area in readiness for my guests.
     I then decided to go out to the Victoria and Albert Museum and see those bits of it that are my favorites as well as the Costume Department for which I lacked time on the last occasion I was there.

On the Tube to and At the V&A:
     The V&A is nicely located for where I am now living in Ealing--a single Tube ride (District) takes me there in about twenty minutes. I love the underground tunnel that links the Tube station directly with the Museums at "South Ken". This time, however, instead of emerging at the Sculpture Gallery, I made a detour to the right and found myself in a part of the museum that I do not think I have ever seen: the French Gallery with its Baroque Over-The-Top extravagance of decorative objects--quite seimiar to the ones in the Wallace Collection.
     A tour was just winding down in the gallery and I was pleased to catch the last bit of it: a woman in a markedly French accent spoke very competently about the last days of Napoleon and his entanglement with Josephine and later with the Hapsburgs through his marriage with Marie Louise. But from what I could see, there was much more about the history than about the art works--for apart from pointing to a small sculpted bust of Josephine, she showed nothing. Oh, she did point out to a fabulous silver dinner service gifted to Arthur, Duke of Wellington, by the Portuguese government, in gratitude for his victory over Napoleon in the Battle of Waterloo.  Marvelously displayed, it is really stops you in your tracks. Clearly, the Portuguese used their slave labor thoroughly in their African silver mines for I recalled a magnificent center piece that arrests the visitor at Apsley House at No. 1 London, a mansion that was gifted by a grateful nation to its then favorite son--it runs the length of an extraordinarily long formal table and is stunning for its size and its craftsmanship.
     For the rest of my time in the same gallery, I feasted on eye candy available in the form of a German ivory and walnut table top sculpture depicting the Wisdom of Solomon from the Bible, an occasional table made from mother-of-pearl, a marvelous Sevres porcelain dinner service made for royalty and several gorgeous pieces of furniture that vied for attention with tapestries and other decorative objects. This gallery alone deserves a visit to the V&A and I am glad I spent time in it. The 'discovery' as it were of this gallery made me convinced that no matter how often one goes to such museums, there is still always something new to savor.
     I got the news of the passing away of my Dad's second cousin Clifford in Arizona while in this gallery. The wooden benches inside a very intriguing sculpted wooden "globe" made by a co-operative of carpenters in South America provided a handy perch as I digested the news by phone delivered by my cousin Cheryl in Kent. It was sad indeed but merciful and I paused for a few minutes to utter a prayer for him as I moved on.
     The next gallery that grabbed my attention was the Costume Department which I had specially arrived to see. It is marvelous how well the V&A documents Western fashion from the 18th century to contemporary times--all the way to the 1980s. There are spectacularly large mantuas which make you wonder how women ever moved in them, cage crinolines from the Victorian Age which make it clear how women wore skirts with so much girth and on to the 20th century with fashion icons such as Mary Quant popularizing the decidedly minimalist mini dress--such a contrast to the abundance of fabric used by women in previous centuries.
     From there, I went upstairs to one of my favorite sections: Jewelry. There I found that cameras are no longer allowed--I was glad I took pictures of the lovely silver 'chatelain' which is my favorite piece in this section, a while ago. After Jewelry, I moved into the Silver section (also a favorite) where I viewed, once again the three Rosenborg silver lions in silver electroplate: the originals are in the Throne Room at Rosenborg Palace in Copenhagen where I had seen them with Llew, a couple of years ago. I also moved further into the gallery to see the Jerningham Wine Cooler: a gigantic one that can accommodate up to 117 bottles of wine.
    Down the gorgeous ceramic staircase I went--it is also one of my favorites--to have lunch in the most gorgeous café in the entire world: the Poynter and Gamble Rooms on the ground floor. I ordered a coffee and had it with my sandwiches before I walked through the Courtyard with its fountain and its strange sculpture and returned to the tunnel to go back home.
           
Preparing for Afternoon Tea Chez Moi:
     I was all set and ready by 4. 30 for my guests who arrived at 5. 15 pm--Cynthia and Michael followed by Raquel. I had invited several others but travel and Diwali came in their way and they could not make it. We had a lovely two hours together as we tucked into cake and biscuits and the brownies and bakhlava that Cynthia bought. Raquel brought me a fabulous gift: a book on Caravaggio which would not just immortalize the visit we made to the exhibition at the National Gallery but will give me intense pleasure as he really is my favorite artist of all time.
    Time flew as we nattered on. My guests loved my place and told me how lucky I was indeed to have found it--and at the price I am paying too (which is really reasonable for what it offers). Indeed, I do wish I had been staying here right from the very beginning, but I know that I have made the most of my time here. 
    After my guests left at about 7. 30 pm, I cleared and cleaned up and then had a long Face time conversation with Chriselle which allowed us to catch up on so much. The evening arrived and because I had eaten so much for Tea, I skipped dinner. All I had was a cup of soup. It was when I opened my fridge again that I made the late discovery that I had completely forgotten to serve my guests the Lamb Samosas that I had bought specially for them from Southall! That was a very serious Senior Moment for me!
     After a bit of TV, I switched the light off and went to bed.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...     

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Savoring the Country Pleasures of Suffolk


Friday, October 28, 2016
Iken, Suffolk

Morning Surprise:

     Having gone to bed last night assuring Loulou that although I wake up usually at 5. 30am, I would find ways to amuse myself until breakfast at 8.00 am, I was stunned when I opened my eyes and discovered that it was already 8.00am  This was the longest sleep I have ever had since my arrival in the UK this time--and it has to be the extreme silence of my surroundings that accounted for my undisturbed slumber. There was no time for a longer lie-in. I had to wash and dress and go downstairs to meet her for I could already hear her pottering around in the kitchen.
     But before I went anywhere, I headed for my window for I could not wait to take in the view that she had promised was the finest in the house. And there it was in all its splendor for me to feast my eyes upon--wheat fields stretching down to the River Alde at the far end and closer to home, three metal sculptures by Lawrence Edwards in the style of Anthony Gormley. And just as I reached for my camera to immortalize this scene, a flock of black-faced white English sheep moved obligingly into my frame! I was completely enchanted.
     For the rest of the day, I surrendered myself to the delights of the Suffolk countryside. I could not have had an abler guide for Loulou has lived in these parts and has owned this vast estate of 700 acres for over thirty years. Her Stanny House Farm is a working farm on which sheep are reared for meat and grain is grown--corn and rye--and crops like onions and potatoes. In addition to being passionate farmers, Loulou is a keen gardener and, over the years, she and her husband Paul have created tour-worthy gardens. Sadly, Paul was on a business trip in Australia--so I lacked the pleasure of his company. But I shall see him, hopefully, before I return to the US.
     Loulou had breakfast already laid out for us--it was to be her regular dish of oatmeal made from scratch with milk, yogurt and fresh blueberries sweetened with honey made by bees in hives on her estate.  It was delicious and we ate companionably as we sipped really good coffee. Not too long after, her cleaning woman Linda arrived. I had met her many years ago when I had last visited Stanny House Farm and, surprisingly, Linda remembered me, albeit vaguely.
     While Loulou attended to urgent email and sorted out her day, I returned upstairs to my room to take a shower and get ready for a long morning's sightseeing. For Loulou had in mind a few places she wanted me to see. Also, since she knew about my scholarship on Anglo-Indians, she had thoughtfully arranged for us to meet with Diana Quick, the British TV actress, best-known for her role as Lady Julia Flythe in the BBC TV version of Brideshead Revisited--which is one of my favorite TV series and indeed one of my favorite novels of all time. Diana has written a memoir called A Tug on the Thread about her attempts at finding the Indian side of her family in modern-day Pakistan. I was aware of this book and was thrilled that Loulou had arranged for Diana to meet us for lunch in Aldeburgh where she lives.
        
Sightseeing in Suffolk--Blythburg and Wenhaston:
     Loulou's expert driving along rural country lanes took us to hamlets that Time seems to have forgotten. We passed by Snape Maltings where the famed Summer Music Festival in held in memory of British composer Benjamin Britten who lived in these parts his whole life. Lovely red brick cottages flew past as did the occasional village pub. It was all delightfully bucolic. Finally, we arrived at the cute village of Blythburg which has a very interesting Gothic church dating from the 1300s. It is a fine piece of architecture and Loulou thought it would be particularly interesting to me.  We arrived there to find the car park full--it happened to be the day for the monthly mini-mart which gets retired villagers together over a cup of coffee and cake to sell some of their hand crafted wares.
     Loulou and I did our sightseeing first. We walked up to the altar, past the Rood Screen, to take a closer look at the very interesting crucifix which is fashioned out of metal by Lawrence Edwards--the same sculptor who is responsible for the male figures in her garden. Modern and ancient are juxtaposed against each other in this lovely old church for the collection box called Peter's Pence dates from the 1200s. We saw a Chantry Chapel with a lovely tomb--closely and beautifully carved. And as in Ely Cathedral, the timbered ceiling was held up by angels with a wide wing span and arms outstretched. Also noteworthy were the figures of the saints carved under the choir stalls and on the pew ends--each representing the seven deadly sins or the seasons.
     After I said a prayer, Loulou thought it would be nice for us to patronize their coffee morning--so she bought us coffee and hazelnut cake as we sat down and had a natter. I noticed that one of the ladies was selling her home made pies--I decided to buy us one perhaps for dinner which we could eat at home instead of going out to a restaurant which is what we had said we'd do. We left with a Chicken, Ham and Leek Pie. But before we left the car park, we took a little walk through the village to admire some of the thatched roof, half-timbered houses and the pargetting (stucco designs) on the walls--a common feature in Suffolk villages.
     Since we still had time on our hands, Loulou then drove me to another village where a much smaller and far more humble church contains a very significant Medieval painting. The village is Wenhaston and the work is called a Doom Painting. Of course, we do not know who painted it--it might well have been a joint effort of a number of villagers in the Middle Ages. It is a very primitive painting on wood that was intended to teach illiterate people about the rewards of Heaven and the tortures of Hell--hence, there is St. Peter welcoming souls at the Gates of Heaven and on the other side, many devils and demons assembling the wicked and throwing them into the flames. It is a very powerful painting indeed and, thankfully, is still in situ. There is nothing special about the rest of the church...but what always strikes me when I visit these churches and cathedrals in Britain is that every single one of them seems to have one unusual feature that separates it from the rest and makes it worthy of a visit.   

Off to Aldeburgh for Lunch:
     We arrived at Aldeburgh with time to spare and Loulou suggested that we park the car in the church parking lot and stroll through the village. I loved the idea. We arrived at the beach front where, because it is half-term holiday, the sands were filled with children and their parents. Further down the beach is the famous shell sculpture by the Suffolk artist Maggi Hambling but we could not see it from this vantage point. We did, however, see the old Medieval Town Hall right on the beach with its red brick façade.
     It was not long before we were throwing open the door of The Lighthouse, a lovely village eatery that was far more sophisticated inside than I expected. On the beach, we had seen fishermen take hold of their catch--much of which was lobster. Loulou also informed me that Aldeburgh is famous for its seafood--and so that was what I had for lunch (which was Loulou's very generous treat). I had a starter of grilled scallops with bacon in a light vinaigrette with a few greens and a main of crab salad which was served in its shell with boiled new potatoes. Indeed, it was a very delicious meal but the best part of all was the conversation I had with Diana. She was friendly and articulate and deeply willing to share stories about her personal quest for her ancestors in India--not with much success.  Much of her evidence is based on anecdotal accounts of people with whom she has managed to connect. Our interaction was very stimulating indeed as we have a mutual interest in the research we are carrying out. At the end of the luncheon, I took pictures with Diana and Loulou and then we were calling it a day and saying goodbye.
     Loulou had to get back home as the painters had already arrived. We paused briefly so that I could get some chocolate ice-cream and then we were off along the peaceful country lanes to Stanny House Farm where Loulou took care of the painters and I was left with another crisis concerning my credit card. Calls to Llew and his calls to my bank in the States resolved the issue.

A Long Walk Around Stanny House Farm:
     With these items attended to, Loulou went on to the computer to try to find out the timings of the train that I could take back to London tomorrow. She discovered that there was going to be major track work on the railway line and my commute would be convoluted and probably stressful. I made the decision then to return to London later in the evening on the 7.09 train.
     With about two hours left on our hands, Loulou suggested a walk on the estate.  Sunset would be about half an hour ahead of us and we caught that lovely late evening light when the birds are making their way homewards and the waning sun streaks the western sky with salmon pink and gold. We walked very slowly through the fields past many stiles and blackberry bushes with some late fruit still on them. Loulou suggested that we stroll all the way to the river--which we did. The tide was out, however, so that the water line was far away. We did hear bird song and pheasants getting ready for nightfall. She spied a few stray sheep that Loulou thought were part of her flock--but when she tried to bring them towards the rest of her flock, she realized that they belonged to her neighbor.
     Back home after our walk and with nightfall well and truly upon us, Loulou cut me a slice of the pie to take home for my dinner as I was much too full to eat anything at that hour. She then drive me to Wickham Market station from where I jumped into a train that took me to Ipswich from where I connected into another train to Liverpool Street Station. I arrived there at 9. 25 and took the Tube and the Overground train to Ealing Broadway to arrive home at about 10. 15 pm. I was hungry by that time--so I did enjoy my pie for dinner with a salad and some ice-cream for dessert.
     I'd had an incredibly good time in Suffolk. It is always a pleasure to spend time with Loulou but to do so on her own turf while living close to the land is not an experience I have on a regular basis. So it was with many happy memories that I returned home to watch some TV, finished up my dinner and go straight to bed.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...
           
     

Saturday, October 29, 2016

Working at Home and NYU-London, Revisiting the Wallace Collection, Coffee with a Friend and Departure for Suffolk

Thursday, October 27, 2016
London and Suffolk

     Waking up at 5.30 am is now part of my routine--I probably am sleep-deprived but I do not feel it. Before sunrise, I have accomplished a great deal each morning: I catch up with email, write a daily blog post, review my To-Do List, making transport and hotel bookings for forthcoming travel...the list goes on.
     But by 8.00 am, I was hungry and since I did not have too much by way of breakfast at home (I am once again in the process of cleaning out my fridge in preparation for travel), I decided to go out for a walk in Ealing to find out if I could get a full English breakfast anywhere. After an hour of wandering, I found one place that did a Full English 'halal' breakfast (turkey sausages and no bacon!) Well, I wasn't having any of it--so I went back home, toasted a croissant and a scone and ate it with spreads and coffee while feeling impatient with myself for having wasted an hour I could ill-afford.
     Still, I quickly caught up on my list of work-related items for the day as I finalized the Author Questionnaire that had been sent to me by my publishers. It took much longer than I thought as I had a bit of research to do to fill in the answers. By 12 noon, I stopped to make myself a sandwich lunch, had a shower and got dressed. I also packed an overnight bag for myself as I would be meeting my friend Loulou in the evening for a ride into the country with her. As you can see, I had so much to do.

Detour at the Wallace Collection:
     With time flying, my extensive proposed travel through the months of November and December in Europe and India, I am already looking at the end of my stint in London. Hence, I have a compelling need to finish seeing favorite works in the many museums that I have haunted through the years and which I have not yet seen.
     Having finished a lot of my work at home and knowing that I needed to spend no more than an hour in my office, I took a detour and got off at Oxford Circus from where I walked along James Street to get to the Wallace Collection--for that was my goal today. I intended to take a look at my favorite works in what is a most unusual museum in the city. Just as Paris has its private homes or hotel particuliers that belonged to the aristocracy and were receptacles of their compulsive collecting of art works, so too the Wallace Collection represents the collecting zeal of four of the Marquesses of Hertford and Sir Richard Wallace, son of the fourth Marquess. It was gifted to the nation by Lady Wallace and represents one of the finest collections of 18th and 19th century decorative arts, Old Master paintings, sculpture and furniture as well as a first-rate Armory collection. What's more, since it is housed in their own home, you get a peep into the world of the astronomically wealthy with its own brand of interior decoration that we do not usually see--for seriously, this is a palace.
     I am always amazed by how grand it is--as I keep forgetting between visits what stupendous wealth the aristocracy amassed. The entrance stuns, the staircase that winds upwards is arresting. There is opulence and grandeur everywhere. Nothing was understated--remember this is the 18th century...that Baroque period when everything was Over The Top.  I climbed the stairs and feasted my eyes on the fabulous collection of paintings by Francois Boucher with their chubby cherubs and their skeins of fruit and flowers and their idealized women with buxom figures and generous hips. In the next room, there is a massive collection of paintings of French women by Greuze--loads of them. But a lovely one also in this gallery is a portrait of Miss Bowles by Joshua Reynolds which Marina Vaizey numbers among her One Hundred Masterpieces of World Art. In the next room is another one of Vaizey's picks--The Swing by Fragonard. It is surprisingly small but filled with exquisite detail. My other favorites in this collection are The Laughing Cavalier by Franz Hals whose sardonic glance stops you in your tracks and Dance to the Music of Time by Nicholas Poussin.  There are rooms simply stuffed with Canalettos and Gaudi's depictions of Venice and since most visitors focus solely on the paintings, you tend to miss the abundance of sculpture and the extravagant furniture in the style of Boule--ornate and heavily gilded. There is a lovely self-portrait by Rembrandt and right opposite it is one of his son Titus. There are paintings by Reubens and quite a few by one of my favorite Flemish painters, Pieter de Hooch.
     You can see this collection hurriedly, but it really deserves an entire morning devoted to it. I did not have as much time as I would have liked but I was mesmerized by the painted Sevres porcelain, the amount of jewelry on display and the Italian ceramics. Each time I visit this place, I keep saying that I will return again and spend more time here--but somehow, it never happens. So I was more than happy that I had found the time to fit this visit in--towards the end of my stay here.

Off to NYU to Work:
     Before I left the area, I walked down Marlylebone Street which is filled with pricey boutiques but offers great window-shopping opportunities. Then, I took the Tube to my office and at NYU and printed out a great deal of material to review. I read it carefully and also printed out my air ticket to India as well as material for the lecture I will give at the University of Leeds in the north of England where I will be headed in a couple of days. I needed to review and prepare for that lecture too and I intended to do so in Suffolk.

Meeting Rahul for Coffee:
     At about 4. 30 pm, I emailed Chriselle's friend Rahul to find out if he was still going to keep our coffee meeting at 6 pm at Liverpool Street Station--two evenings of cancelled appointments might have been followed by a hat trick. I was taking no chances.  He was. I continued working till 5. 15pm, then took the Tube to our appointed spot (Wasabi right outside the station on Bishopsgate) and had a lovely reunion with him.
     It was while we were sipping our lattes and catching up that I got a call from my friend Loulou. Since it was half-term holiday, all trains were running at off-peak rates--we did not need to wait till 7.00 pm to catch our train. She wondered if I could meet her earlier. When I told her that I was having coffee with Rahul, she joined us at Café Nero. Rahul had finished telling me about his global work clients in financial management and his coming trip to Bombay for Christmas--where we hope to meet again. He is a childhood friend of Chriselle and it was at his place that she had stayed in London before I joined her from Oxford. Rahul has proven to be a thorough gentleman on more than one occasion and had given me a hand with my move from Holborn to Farringdon about eight years ago! We have stayed closely in touch through the years and it is always a pleasure to meet him when I am in London.
     When Loulou joined us, we had a lovely natter, the three of us together, before I bid Rahul goodbye and we raced off for our train.

Off to Suffolk with Loulou:
    The train crept and crawled all the way to Ipswich--there is always trouble of some sort or the other on the tracks, it seems. Still, we did not mind as we had so much catching up to do. The lights of the skyscrapers of Liverpool Street Station gave way to the skyscrapers of Canary Wharf and the well-lit buildings of Stratford and the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park--the Acelor Mittal is spectacular in its rosy red glow just meters from the train tracks. Once we left the city behind, however, there was pitch darkness outside as we headed into Suffolk.
     Loulou had her car parked at Ipswich station from where we drove to her place, about 45 minutes away, through quiet villages and miles of vast and empty fields. Having lived here for thirty years, Loulou knows this region like the back of her hand--she was not daunted, therefore, by fallow deer that darted about in front of us or by narrow country lanes.
     Entering her property at Stanny House Farm, we were greeted by a whole flock of black-faced baa-ing sheep as we made our way to her front porch! What a welcome! Soon my memories of this lovely place came rushing back to me as we entered the large country family-room-cum-kitchen whose brown wooden cabinets and spacious counter space reminded me so much of my home in Southport and made me feel a trifle homesick.
     Loulou was starving and did not lose time in pulling out a most delicious Boeuf Bourginon that was made with amazing home made stock. It was wonderfully redolent of bacon and mushrooms and it made a very satisfying dinner indeed on a fairly cold night. As she caught up with her email, I caught up with mine (once I acquired wifi passwords) and soon I was making my way to bed for it was already 10.30 pm.
     My room was a charming and sweetly-decorated space with a view, she promised, that was the best in the house--but I would have to wait to find out when sunlight returned to Suffolk. For the moment, I washed and undressed in my little bathroom right outside my room and went off to sleep.
     It had been a day of much accomplishment and joyous reunions and I was all set to enjoy my time in the countryside as I fell asleep.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...  

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Caravaggio at the National Gallery and Indian Lunch in Southall

Wednesday, October 26, 2016
London

     Having gone to bed at 9. 30 pm, I suppose it wasn't surprising that I awoke at 3. 30 am. However, I did force myself to get back to sleep and when I opened my eyes again, it was a little before 5.00am--which made it the most sleep I have had in months! Not a bad thing at all. I awoke refreshed, relaxed and ready to start what turned out to be a rather bizarre day.
     So, as usual, I did a blog post, caught up with email, planned my list of things to do for the day and had my brekkie--two toasted croissants with spreads and coffee. All these carbs, by the way, are doing a number on my weighing scale. It will be Low Carbs/No Carbs for sure when I get back home. But for the moment, it is simply easier (and much cheaper) for me to load up on bread and pasta. I watched some inane TV while munching my breakfast and decided to dress and leave the house without a shower as I wanted to shampoo my hair in the evening. I was meeting Raquel at the National Gallery at 10.00 am--so at 9. 15am, I left my flat to get into the Tube.

Caravaggio at the National Gallery:
     I do not, as a rule, pay to see exhibitions at the National Gallery--as I prefer to wait for them to simply come to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York (which they almost invariably do). This one was an exception to my rule--as it was Caravaggio, who is simply my favorite artist of all time. I have tracked down his work in many parts of the world and spent a while in contemplation before each one of them. Thus, it was that I made plans to meet my friend Raquel at the National Gallery so that we could see it together. There was actually a line to get in at the Sainsbury Wing where you purchase tickets, but it moved quickly and in no time at all, we were presented with our tickets (15 pounds each) and an audio guide (another 2. 50 pounds). Armed with our tickets, we went downstairs to the basement for the show.
     Unfortunately, I could not linger as long as I'd have liked to--first off, it was crowded and there were heads of varied size vying for space in front of me. Getting the audio guide was a good idea as it would have been impossible to inch up to the curatorial notes and to read them in the rather dim lighting of the place. Secondly, I had a luncheon appointment all the way in Southall which would take me at least an hour to get to. Hence, the consciousness of time...
     The show is powerful, I will tell you that. However, do not expect to see an assembly of Caravaggio's works from around the globe. There are no more than five of his works and two are on permanent exhibit at the National--Boy Bitten by Lizard and Supper at Emmaus. What I found really fabulous was John the Baptist which features the prophet in his youth (I do not think any other artist has presented him in this guise)--not just young but muscular (contrary to the emaciated 'voice in the wilderness' portrayal to which we are accustomed). And, of course, the big 'discovery'' of the exhibition is the mesmerizing 'Taking of Christ', painted in 1602 that was unearthed for the very first time a couple of years ago as a genuine Caravaggio. Jesuit priests in Dublin who own it, ate their meals in their refectory below its deeply moving presence. On discovery that it was a real Caravaggio, it was moved to the National Gallery of Ireland. At the National, it is justifiably the highlight of the show--not just because it portrays a Biblical moment with such vivid immediacy and ominous intent but because it contains--surprise, surprise!--a self-portrait of the artist, clearly discernible at extreme right, keeping company with Judas who has identified the Messiah with a kiss, but actually holding up a lantern to light up His face. Is  the artist implying that we are all complicit in the act of betrayal? Striking in this depiction is the dull gleam of silvered armor worn by the Roman guards and the calm expression on Christ's face as he faces the inevitable.
     But this painting apart, the aim of this exhibition is to emphasize the huge influence that Caravaggio had on artists who followed for the next couple of centuries--he was indeed the Old Masters' Master! From the Frenchman George de la Tour (whose depictions of genre scenes such as the telling of fortunes on the streets and the cheating at card tables are reminiscent of the larger-than-life portraits that fill Caravaggio's canvasses) to the Father-Daughter team of Orazio and Artimisia Gentileschi whose paintings exude drama whether it is the Slaying of Goliath (Orazio) or the Abduction of Susanna (Artimisia). As I said, this is a powerful exhibition and you will be repeatedly struck by the play of light and darkness (chiaroscuro that Caravaggio perfected), the capturing of the impact of a single candle upon the faces of the subjects, the manner in which a stray ray of light from a lone window can illuminate raw expressions on the faces of commoners. Caravaggio mastered all the techniques: he knew how to portray people, the minutia of objects crowding a table (as in a still life) and expressions on animated and quiet faces while sparing no detail in providing a narrative. This exhibition was profoundly moving and will stay with me for a long time to come.
     Outside at Trafalgar Square, there were children everywhere--I realized it is half term holiday which means that English children have the week off. Working parents take the week off with them and, as was obvious, many were having a staycation in the city!

Off to Southall:
     Raquel and I had a quick post-mortem natter about the exhibition (which we both loved) before she went back into the gallery and I scooted off to Southall for my luncheon appointment.
     I took the Bakerloo line from Charing Cross to Paddington and the Great Western Railway to Southall--it was the second stop after Paddington, the first being Ealing Broadway--so if I had gone to Southall from home, I would have been there in ten minutes! Who knew? Well anyway...From the station, I had to make my way to The Broadway where the restaurant called The Punjabee is located. I had looked it up on Google maps and it was at least a 20 minute walk from the station. So I hopped into a bus sailing down the street for a while and cut off about half of the walk. I did reach on time at 12. 45 pm and there they were--my old friends, the Anglo-Indians of the North London Anglo-Indian Association--Henry, Terry and Malcolm, with whom I had associated a few years ago when I was doing field research for my book.
     It was at Henry's invitation that I was joining the informal group of retired RAF chaps who meet once a month at this restaurant to shoot the breeze and tuck into some curry--which they adore. At Henry's suggestion, I ordered the Lamb Curry (which turned out to be delicious if a bit too fiery for my palate) and the Aloo Gobhi (Potatoes with Cauliflower) which turned out to be too dry for me. Unlike everyone else at the table, I did not order rice--I had a naan instead. It was a very satisfying meal in an authentic Indian setting.  The restaurant was also full of families with children--the school holidays had brought them all swarming out "for a curry". I am not sure when the British will realize and accept the fact that not all Indian food is curried!
      Conversation was fun and non-stop around our table. Henry shared with me the dinky album of his daughter Karen's wedding. It was lovely! Terry told me about his challenges with ill health, Malcolm talked about his grand-kids. The years melted as we caught up. On the other end of the table, the other RAF chaps were playing their own catch-up games. What a wonderful idea--that they meet like this, in person, and do what email and the telephone fail to accomplish: provide the personal, human touch. I thought it was a great idea. Two of my hosts have been coming to this restaurant since 1989 and the monthly reunion has been going on for about five years. It works--so it continues. We talked about people who have passed away since the time I spoke to the community in the UK--too many, some too soon. We spoke about my book coming out and about them purchasing copies to send off to their family members and friends. Not long to wait now, my friends....not long at all.
     Henry treated me to the meal--he did not allow me to pay. Ever the gallant Anglo-Indian gentleman is our Henry. All of them ordered food packets to take away--they love their Indian food too much, these Anglo-Indians, to not take a ton home with them, once a month. Into the freezer it goes and slowly is it savored before the next RAF Reunion fills up the freezer again. It is another idea that works!
     Before we parted, they took me to Ambala, a Punjabi Sweet Mart where they took more Indian food home--dessert this time. In a few days it will be Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights and a time to stuff one's face with highly sweetened milky delights. The place was crowded, the queue moved at snail's pace. I decided to get into the festive Diwali spirit and ordered a few sweets myself--a selection of one each, just to taste. Unbelievably, it cost me just a little more than 2 pounds! I could not believe it...
     Henry took me via the long route home as Southtall was simply jammed with traffic. You could be in one of the smaller towns in the Punjab--Amritsar or Patiala or Jullunder or Ludhiana--any one of the towns that links India's Grand Trunk Road--it was that authentic. Curry Houses and sweet shops sat cheek by jowl with sari and salwar-khameez displays, gold jewelry that glittered enticingly, video parlors that carried Bollywood hits and Pakistani TV sitcoms, supermarkets filled with Indian vegetables and spices. What a place to be! Anyone nostalgic for their India Fix could find fulfillment in this enclave. But time brings slow, imperceptible change. And my friends informed me that with the infiltration of the Somalians into the area, the Punjabis are moving out. And on the edges of this Little India, I did see many black men hanging out and gossiping.
     I got the train back to the City and since I had Indian food with me (I purchased 10 Lamb Samosas) and my sweets, and since I was passing right by Ealing Broadway, I hopped off and went home to leave my food behind. I had a chance to take a look at my email and then took a 20-minute nap as I had yet another appointment to keep in the city. But first, after I awoke, I had a really big job to do: I had to book my ticket for my Winter Break in Bombay.

Booking a Ticket for India:
     I have to say that it was difficult to find a reasonably priced ticket to Bombay and back to London without having to deal with no less than a 15 hour layover in some Arab country. Even Jet Air flights had 15 hour layovers in Abu Dhabi as Ethihad takes their passengers over for part of the journey. I did not fancy spending any more time in the Middle East than I needed to--I could not wait to board the flight and step down on Indian soil. So, it was with much difficulty and with the forking out of a hundred pounds more (that I thought was fully worthwhile) that I found a Jet Air non-stop flight to Bombay and back to London on the dates I desired. It was a feat and I felt pleased to get this big job out of the way.
     As soon as I put payment through on my credit card, I jumped up and raced out of the house. I was meeting Natalie, another Tweep that I follow, for the first time in London and I did not want to be late. Since she works near Whitehall and I thought I would be making my way there from my office at Bloomsbury, I told her to meet me at 6 pm at Foyle's on Charing Cross Road. My daughter Chriselle's London-based friend Rahul had taken her to Café Vergnano that he said was the best coffee shop in the city and I thought it would be great to check it out with Natalie.

A Disappointment with Natalie:
     Well... having taken the Great Western Railway for the first time in the afternoon, I discovered that there was only one stop between Ealing Broadway and Paddington--I decided to try it out and voila, I was at Padding in under five minutes!!! I could not believe it. From there, I took the Bakerloo Line and made a change for one stop to get off at Leicester Square where I fought tourist hordes all the way to Foyle's--only to find that Natalie was not there! It seems she had sent me a text (which I did not get!) to inform me that she was struck in a meeting at work and needed to reschedule. Oh well...for the second night in a row, I have had plans changed on me at the last-minute. Let's hope it will not happen tomorrow when I am to meet Rahul...
     I also discovered via a text from Llew that my credit card payment for my air ticket had been declined for security reasons.  I was deeply annoyed as this is not the first time it has happened. Despite having informed my credit card company that I am traveling all over the world and will be using my card for large and small transactions, they keep stopping my payments. It is frustrating especially when purchasing air tickets as one does not know if one will get the same fare again--they disappear like magic from our screens, these fares. What's even worse is that to sort the matter out, I need to make these overseas calls which I am not even able to do with the skinny phone plan I have in the UK! Llew had to make the call for me, get the payment through and, of course, I would need to return home to make the transaction again. I was just deeply dejected all around as I turned back.

Back Home for Dinner and Cold Feet:
     I took the Tube home and by 7. 30, I was on my laptop again booking my ticket for India as my credit card company did respond to Llew's call.  And yes, it involved talking to the online ticketing company--but I did get my original fare and my ticket was done. Phew!
      Feeling stressed out, I went in for a shower and shampoo and while my hair dried, I got my dinner organized. I ate my leftover Indian meal from lunch time with Black Forest Trifle for dessert and watched the season finale of Cold Feet. I have to say that it all ended very lamely. Eddie and David actually duking it out physically on the dance floor was simply implausible and I think the writers have truly lost the plot. Suffice it to say that it will be a long wait before the next season steps around...but I am hardly going to hold my breath.
    Again, it was by 10.00 pm, that I decided to go to bed but after checking Twitter and getting some important email responses done, it was about 11.00 pm when I turned out my light.
     Tomorrow will be a very busy day--my last one in London before I leave for the country as I have been invited by my friend Loulou to spend the next couple of days with her in Suffolk on her sprawling real working farm of hundreds of acres. It should be fun and a lovely change of scene...but I have miles to go before I sleep--figuratively (and poetically speaking), I mean.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...              

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Working at NYU-London and Post Office Chores

Tuesday, October 25, 2016
London

Morning Rush:
    Awaking at 5. 30 am today, drafting a blog post, responding to email---this has become the order of the day for me. I also sent out an invitation to a few friends to Afternoon Tea at my place this coming Saturday. I would have liked to have them over for a meal but my little flat does not lend itself to such lavish entertaining. A Tea, I could do more easily. Hopefully, they will respond soon.
      For some odd reason, I hurried today through breakfast (the last of my muesli with yogurt and coffee--should buy some more) and a shower and left my house at 9.10 am for my appointment at the National Gallery at 10.00 am when it opened to see the special exhibition entitled 'Beyond Caravaggio'--as he is my favorite artist of all time. With me, in a separate bag, was my edited manuscript. After the exhibition, I intended to spend most of the day in my office double checking annotations and citations on my Works Cited page as I prepare my manuscript for final submission.

Disappointment at the National Gallery:
     On the Central Tube to Oxford Circus--then a change to the Northern Line Tube to Charing Cross, I arrived at Trafalgar Square even before the Gallery opened. About thirty people were sitting desultorily on the ledge waiting for the museum to open. Five minutes later, I was inside and looking around for Raquel. No sign of her. I texted her--told her where I was seated--by the Main Info Desk.  No response. She was probably in the Tube. Waited another ten minutes. Sent another text. Hoped she was not in the Sainsbury Wing where we'd need to purchase tickets as this special exhibition was not free. At 10.20, when she hadn't yet shown up, I called her! And guess what? She was home! Not because she forgot about our plans but because I wrote the wrong day on my calendar--it seems we are due to meet tomorrow! I had texted her this morning to say I would be there at 10.00--but she assumed I meant tomorrow. She did not realize I would go there today!
    Really annoyed with myself (as I had so much work and felt I had completely wasted my time), I jumped into a 24 bus and rode it to Bloomsbury to my office.

Postal Chores:
     I was in my office by 10. 45 and went straight to the Porter's Lodge to start chores on my parcels. I intended to finish posting them off today. Wrapping each one carefully and writing out addresses, I finished all three and walked off with one of them to the Post Office on High Holborn near Drury Lane.  I wasn't taking all three together as they were much too heavy.
     The nice man at the counter (Tamilian? Keralite?) who kept referring to me as 'Lady' (as in "Yes, Lady", "Maybe Lady") weighed it and told me that cheapest postage would cost me 13 pounds--that is one-third of what the Keralite woman had told me a few days ago! Well, I wasn't going to question him. I paid with my credit card and left and resolved to return with the two other parcels before he left home for the day! If he was giving me a deal, I didn't want to miss it!

At Work at my Office:
     I was tempted to make a little detour into the shops on my way back--naughty me! I had so much work to do and could hardly afford such sauntering. Still, I supposed I could work extra hard and finish it all before I left for my dinner appointment at 6.00 pm with my friend Michelle at Euston's Diwana Restaurant.
     I bought myself a tempting packed of Chocolate Hazelnut Biscuits made by Borders as I felt hungry quite suddenly and opening the packet, there and there, on the road, I began munching and walked back to my office.
     For the next two hours, I worked on three chapters. At 1. 30 pm, I left my office and went downstairs to the Faculty Lounge to eat my soup and sandwich lunch. After lunch, I set off for the Post Office again--with the other two parcels (for which I paid the same amount! yaayy!) Mission Accomplished! I will probably have one more Post Office run to do just before my final return to America.
     Back at my office, I was hard at work for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening and at 5. 30, I had it all done. There was no hurry, you see, because at about 4.00 pm, I received a text from Michelle to cancel our dinner plans as she was unwell and wanted to go straight home. Such a shame! I was so looking forward to meeting her. Well, maybe it was just as well.
     As my colleagues began to leave their offices to go back home, I went to the Copy Room and photocopied all the pages I needed for our driving trip in France. Now all I need to do is to book our B&Bs. Llew needs to rent us a car--and with that, we will be all sorted. Over this weekend, I intend to finish up those tasks. So, with my photocopying all done, I placed my papers back in my bag ready to undertake the last bits of editing at home on my Works Cited Page and I'd be that much closer to getting my manuscript ready for submission. It had been a day really well spent with my Post Office work done and a whole lot of editing accomplished. It was time to get home to relax.

Quiet Evening with TV and Dinner:
    About 45 minutes later, in a very packed train, I got back home. It was a little after 7.00 pm, but I decided to have an early dinner--this meant skipping Tea, which was probably a good thing! I srtaed with a cup of soup and had Ravioli with a chilli cheese sauce and made a salad with lettuce, spinach and corn and I ate Black Forest Trifle for dessert. As I watched, I caught up with Cold Feet on ITV Player and at 9. 30pm, since my eyes were closing, I decided to make a very early night of it and go straight to sleep.  
     At 9. 30pm, I switched the light off and went straight to sleep.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...   

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Meetings at NYU-London and Visiting Relatives Over Dinner in Kent

Monday, October 24, 2016
London and Kent

A Hurried Morning:
     Unlike most mornings, this one was a bit frenzied as I blogged, dealt with email, sent something to my office for printing, then sat to have a chat with my Dad in Bombay--which is always more time-consuming than I expect. After a quick breakfast (muesli with coffee), I showered and left my flat at 9.15 am for my 10.30 am meeting with Gary, Director at NYU-London. I was on the Tube and in my building at 10.00 am.

Chores and Meetings at NYU:
     My first port of call was the Porter's Lodge where I set myself the task of packing my parcels for mailing to the US. Breaking up one large parcel into three of no more than 2 kgs each took more effort and time than I expected as I stood over a weighing scale and carefully redistributed weight. With only one parcel ready at the end of half an hour, I left the rest of the task for tomorrow and went for my meeting.
     At 10.30 am, I was meeting over a cup of tea thoughtfully provided by Gary, our Director, in his office. In a freewheeling conversation that covered the research I am currently doing in London and the contents of my coming book, half an hour passed. It is always a pleasure to meet Gary who is a very easy conversationalist and a very humorous man--take a look at all his funny legal books! Time flew swiftly and at 11.00 am, the two of us left for our next meeting.
     On the second floor, we met at another one of our periodic GRI Fellows' 'Teas'. About six of us were present as we discussed our on-going work over tea, coffee and ginger biscuits. Gary was in attendance as well and provided a lot of very interesting information on Jeremy Bentham on whom one of the Fellows is working. I had no idea that he was Oxford's youngest student ever having arrived there at the age of 12! I did not know either that by the age of 5, he was translating Latin texts!
    When 12 noon struck, however, he excused himself and hurried away to his next meeting--which was exactly what I did as I had a busy afternoon ahead of me. I rushed up to my own office, printed out my Works Cited pages (for my book) for proofing, glanced at email and left.

Off to Kent with a Relative:
     I returned to the Porter's Lodge to pick up my coat and hat and to rearrange things in my bag as I accommodated my printouts.  Then, I rushed off to Tottenham Court Road station to take the Northern Line Tube southwards to Clapham South where I was scheduled to meet my relative Joel who was driving me to Kent where we had been invited to spend the evening with my cousin Cheryl who lives on the Isle of Sheppey. I was with Joel within the hour and we started our drive on the M2 motorway to the East. We were at Cheryl's place at 3.00 pm where we had a lovely reunion at her home called Catalan and met her husband David and her niece Hailey who was visiting from Bombay.

A Lovely Evening with my Relatives:
     Over the years, Llew and I have spent many happy times in Catalan when David has driven us around the island and over many interesting parts of Kent. Today all we did was sit and chat about the developments in the world from Brexit to the destruction of the Calais Jungle to the coming election in America. Cheryl was in and out as she busied herself with our meal. She provided us with coffee and a delicious home made fruit cake upon our arrival and with the table well laid out, she took charge of serving our meal as she has always been a brilliant chef.
     It was when I went to pull my camera out of my bag to take a few family pictures that I realized I had left it behind in the Porter's Lodge at NYU. A quick call to the Receptionist and my fears were confirmed--but I was also deeply relieved. It would be held for me until tomorrow.
     When it came time for dinner, a bottle of white wine was opened and shared and we sat down to Cheryl's lovely starter: a smoked fish quiche which was served with a lovely salad. The main course was Toad in a Hole--British for sausages in batter. It was very delicious indeed. To go with the dish, there were carrots and peas and roasted potatoes. It could not have been more English! And for dessert, Cheryl served a low-fat Cherry Cheesecake which was very tasty.
     Replete with our meal, we were astonished to find that it was already 8.15! Where had the time gone? Within the next few minutes, we took a few pictures, said our goodbyes and left. Joel and I continued to chat on our way back to London. He dropped me off at Clapham South Tube station where I took the trains that got me back home to Ealing exactly at 11.00 pm.        
     Considering that I had spent most of the day seated, I was surprised at how tired I felt. Only a few minutes later, I got ready for bed and looked forward to a new day.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...

Monday, October 24, 2016

Exploring Eltham Palace and an Evening with Chelsea Friends

Sunday, October 23, 2016
Eltham and London

     Ever since I visited Charlton this past August, I had also been meaning to visit Eltham Palace--for the simple reason that while waiting for a bus at South Bromley station then, I had seen buses headed to Eltham. Somehow, I became sidetracked by all my other travels and sightseeing and Eltham was placed on the backburner. Recently, my attention was turned to it again, thanks to tweets from English Heritage. I could postpone a visit no longer. Eltham it would be...and soon.
     I awoke at 5. 30 am, finished a blog post, caught up on email and other laptop-related activity, finished my itinerary for Italy and Sicily and had my breakfast--yogurt with muesli and coffee.  I wanted to leave my flat by 8. 45 am but by the time I showered and left, it was 9. 15. However, I did not worry too much as I knew that Eltham was closer than Bexleyheath on the train (having taken the same journey yesterday). It was my intention to get back to London by 3.00 pm, work on putting together my packages for mailing to the States until 5.00 and then get to Chelsea where I would be meeting my friends Michael and Cynthia. I would be accompanying Cynthia for Benediction at 7.00 at the Church of the Holy Trinity.
      That was the plan...

Getting to Eltham:
     I repeated my journey of the previous morning and found a 10.09 am train leaving Victoria for Eltham. Like yesterday, it crawled so painfully that I am convinced had I walked fast alongside the train tracks, I would probably have reached faster! Still, we were at Eltham at 11.00 am. Right outside the train station was the bus station and from there I jumped into a 314 bus for just two stops. It put me off at a junction from where, along Court Yard Road, the palace was about 8 minutes on foot.
      It was a lovely day--the sun was out, the sky was blue and although there was a distinct nip in the air, I had dressed warmly (although I did miss my gloves). At the English Heritage Ticket counter, I bought a ticket for 13. 60 pounds (steep by normal standards) and I hoped it would be worthwhile.
      I need not have worried...

Entering Eltham Palace:
     The walk from the ticket office to the entrance of Eltham is one of the nicest aspects of the visit. Fall is a grand time to visit as the trees are golden. Fallen leaven crackle about you with every step. You get superb pictures of the palace from the stone bridge that is constructed over the wide moat which is filled with water and floating leaves. A few feet away, you are given a multi-media guide (it is audio and visual--very unusual and very good). And then a few feet later, surrounded by a grand architectural feast for the eye, your tour of the inside begins.

History of Eltham Palace:
     Eltham Palace started its life and history as a country manor house built by Anthony Bek, Bishop of Durham in 1260. By 1300, he presented it to the King (Edward II)--at which time it became a royal household. In its heyday (1400 to 1600), it was a grand destination for statesmen, diplomats, poets (Erasmus visited) and dignitaries for whom jousting matches were organized as part of the entertainment--a jousting track is still intact outside the palace gates. The Great Hall, built in the 1400s, was the scene of boisterous banquets and much pageantry in the manner of Dining Halls at Oxford or Cambridge--there is a magnificent High Table at one end with a wonderfully carved wooden Tudor screen just behind it, complete with lions posts, stained glass crests and Tudor Rose emblems everywhere. The young Henry VIII grew up in this palace together with his siblings (at which time he met Erasmus--he was then nine and, apparently, already precocious!). But, by the reign of his daughter Elizabeth I, royalty favored nearby Greenwich Palace (as it is closer to the Thames and offered easier accessibility). Eltham fell into disuse and eventually into ruin. By the end of 1600s, it was passed on to one John Shaw who lamented its degeneration.
     In the 1930s (the grand decade between the wars as is depicted in part of Downton Abbey), the property was purchased by Stephen Courthauld (brother of Samuel Courthauld who founded the Art Institute at Somerset House in London) and his wife, Virginia (known as Ginnie to her friends). He had made his fortune initially in silver mines and later in fabrics (rayon and silk). Wishing to create a country lifestyle for themselves, they bought the parcel of ten hectares with its Tudor ruin and decided to refurbish it and add a manor in which they would live and entertain friends. They hired Seely and Paget, a team of modern architects and bid them design a completely modern home. The duo created an exterior house completely in keeping with the Tudor lines of the existing Great Hall (which was all that remained of the Palace) but did an absolute number on the interior--they designed and created it in Art Deco style (which was only just catching on in England). The end result is an absolute confection of a home into which a fortune has been poured and in which the style and aesthetic of 1930's Europe can be immediately discerned.
     In this home, the childless Courthaulds lived and entertained and had a swinging time with their vast household of servants, two nephews called Peter and Paul Pierano that they adopted, a Great Dane named Caesar and a lemur (yes, a lemur, with a long black and white striped raccoon-like tail) called Mah-Jong (Jongy for short) that they bought from Harrods (which, incidentally, only closed its pet department in 2014!--who knew?) When the house was finished, they turned their attention to the extensive grounds and presto!--gardens materialized. They are a gem of horticultural design and even though I was visiting in the autumn, they were sensational.

Visiting Eltham Palace: 
     The audio guide makes it simplicity itself to appreciate multiple aspects of the house and garden. You enter at the spectacular Great Entrance but you do not linger long here--as you are directed to climb up the steps and enter the Venetian Room where you watch a lovely little film in which you are cast as a visitor to the house in the 1930s and invited to become part of the grand festivities.
    As you roam from room to room on the top floor, you are introduced to the family members, their quirks, their passions, their preoccupations. Virginia was the stereotypical socialite of her time with a gay and friendly manner. Stephen was quiet, thoughtful and intellectually-inclined with a wealth of interests including mountaineering, photography (there is a dark room in the basement of the house)  and gardening. The Art Deco motif is carried out throughout the home through the handiwork of the Italian designer Peter Malacrida but Virginia had a huge role to play in selecting materials. For example, in the grand Dining Room, she insisted the chairs be upholstered in rose pink as that color best showed off women's dinner gowns!
     Upstairs, you roam through bedrooms with black and white wallpaper that depicts Kew Gardens complete with its pagoda (Stephen's bedroom), wood veneer on round walls with a walk-in wardrobe (Virginia's), a bathroom fully lined with semi-precious onyx that surrounds a bath tub whose backsplash features small gold mosaic tiles and a sculptural bust of Psyche (Virginia's bathroom), a large cage for Jongy that was fully heated and had a ladder that allowed access to the house, Jack and Jill bedrooms for Peter and Paul who grew up in Eltham before they became students at Christ Church College, Cambridge with its adjoining bathroom (the only one in the house with a shower from which only cold water emanated--ouch!).
     You then pass through the Minstrel's Gallery to get a bird's eye view of the Great Hall. This deck was added by the Courthaulds to enable musicians to find a perch for the grand balls they held in the Great Hall which had once played host to royalty. The great hammered ceiling is the third largest in the country and it has been beautifully refurbished.
     Leaving this area, you make your way down the stairs and arrive at the Grand Entrance with its domed gazed ceiling and its wooden inlaid frescoes on the walls that depict favorite buildings from Venice, Florence and Stockholm. In this room, guests were served cocktails as they prepared for dinner in the adjoining dining room where, other than the rose chairs, the most striking features are the doors that depict animals and birds inspired by London's Zoo. There is also a library on this floor with some items from Stephen's lusterware collection and an Italian Room where there are wonderful Renaissance paintings, Florentine ceramics and wrought-iron screens. Turkish and Persian rugs are numerous all over the house and are scattered over the thickly carpeted floors. There is truly so much to see, so much to learn about, so much to marvel over.
     Yet, at no point is the house over-the-top. All decoration is restrained and minimalism seems to reign every where. Decorative items (I recognized Lalique bookends and Daum vases and the library is filled with Turner water colors) are carefully picked and strategically placed. There are mod cons all over (such as phones and electric clocks on the wall--mod for their era!) and a lovely and very unusual Map Room (as the couple were intrepid travelers and often invited their friends to travel for weeks on end with them to varied parts of the world). The Map Room was used by their secretaries to map out routes for them! This room was recently discovered when some painting wore out. Careful conservation had unearthed an entire room whose walls were covered with maps.
     Downstairs, in Downton Abbey mode, you are invited to peruse the kitchen and the servants living quarters and then you descend even deeper into the basement which served as a war-time bunker, a billiards room and a dark room. During World War II, a regiment of the army was stationed here and they made use of every room in the house including the Great Hall--for by that time, the Courthaulds had moved on to Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) where they ended up building another fancy home for themselves. Indeed, Eltham Palace has everything the rich and famous could desire, from heated tiled floors in the bathroom to an Orangery.
     I thought I would take a couple of hours to see the entire property (as I did at Red House yesterday). As it turned out, I took more than two hours just to see the interiors. And with tantalizing glimpses of the gardens that were offered from every window, I simply had to tour the gardens as well. But I was hungry and needed to eat as well as to rest my feet.
     I made my way to the café where I found a seat, pulled out my sandwiches and downed them with a hot chocolate that I ordered. About three quarters of an hour later, I realized I would need to abandon my plans to go to my office at NYU to carry out my errands--they would have to wait till tomorrow.
     Instead, I began the Garden Tour which took me all around the massive butterfly-shaped house, past the Great Hall to offer distant views of the skyscrapers of London (for the city is only a few miles away as the crow flies) and on to the great lawns. In the summer, visitors sprawl all over them. On a chilly day, they walk briskly through the Linear Garden to view the lovely Rock Garden hewn out of limestone rocks to house Alpine specimens on the banks of the moat, the walled gardens with its perennial flower beds (filled with autumnal carnations, daisies and sedum), the Ridge from where you can access what was once a swimming pool (now covered up) and fruit orchards to arrive at a lovely Italianate sunken Rose Garden from where one has a lovely view of the side of the house with its sculpture of Perseus with the slain Medusa's head at his feet. You can walk along the banks of the water in the moat before climbing up again and accessing the main level via a wooden bridge. Everything is beautifully laid out and well thought about and you could easily spend two more hours in the garden. I spent about an hour and at 2. 30 pm, I finally left the property, rather regretfully, for it is a simply splendid place in which to spend an entire day.
     On the way back to the station, I passed by half-timbered houses dating from Tudor times--all beautifully preserved today. You could almost hear the thundering of hooves along the jousting track and see the scarlet robes of Cardinal Wolsey who was a frequent visitor to the premises. Even the names of the streets and the establishments along the way hint at royal antecedents--Court Yard, for one.
     Eltham Palace was a revelation to me in every sense of the word. When living in Paris, I got to know the Jacomart-Andre Museum and the Nissim Comondo Museum--and they are two buildings that I tell visitors to Paris not to miss (together with Saint Chapelle). Now, I will suggest that all visitors make it a point to see Red House and Eltham Palace as these are truly hidden gems of the city that very few tourists see--most visitors were local English Heritage members (as far as I could see).

On the Train Back to the City:
     I had told my Chelsea friends that I would be with them at 5.00pm. With an hour to kill, I took the train back to Victoria, jumped into a Tube train to Sloane Square and hopped into a bus that took me down the King's Road. I went to Oxfam, my favorite thrift store from where I got a absolute steal: a thick strand of Majorica pearls (17 mm each, no less) with a lovely sterling silver clasp and a safety chain at the back. I have wanted to buy Majorica pearls forever but was always daunted by the prices in the duty free shop. These are neither real nor cultured--they are very good quality simulated pearls and if looked after well, they could last a lifetime and be passed along as a very valuable heirloom. Here, for less than the price of a pair of ear-rings with just single drop pearls, I got a whole hefty necklace--I simply could not believe it! Needless to say, I bought them and then wandered into Waitrose where I got myself a much-needed caffe latte and then took the bus to Sloane Street.

An Evening with Friends:
    I spent the evening with Michael and Cynthia and then accompanied Cynthia to Benediction as planned. It was a beautiful service with a superb choir in attendance in a church filled with the decoration of the Pre-Raphaelites. Evensong was followed by Benediction. I left the church when the service ended at 7.00 pm, said goodbye to Cynthia and made my way back to the Tube station. I was home a little after 8.00 pm.

Facetime with Llew and Dinner:
     The caffe latte affected my sleep pattern (as caffeine always does) so that I was filled with nervous energy as I Facetimed with Llew about all sorts of things for almost an hour. I then set about putting my dinner together (ravioli in cheese sauce which I jazzed up with chilli sauce) and a salad of lettuce and spinach with a simply balsamic vinaigrette. I had Black Forest Trifle for dessert and was still wide awake at 11.00. I finished Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach after savoring every syllable and felt heartbroken, once again, by the tragic ending. It was about 12. 30 pm when I finally switched my light off and attempted to go to sleep.
     Tomorrow will bring another week which looks packed to capacity for me as I take on meetings at NYU and meet my publisher's deadline for the submission of my book's manuscript.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...                
 

Sunday, October 23, 2016

A Visit to Red House, Home of William Morris and Mass at Ealing Abbey

Saturday, October 22, 2016
Bexleyheath, Kent and London

    A visit to Red House, famed home of William Morris in Bexleyheath, Kent, was long overdue. Why do I feel such an obsession with Morris and his Mates? Could it be their obsession with Medieval times and the past in general based on their prodigious love for history that I share? Could it be their association with Exeter College, Oxford? Could it be that I simply love the style they, as the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, made their own? I remain puzzled. What I do know is that I have always been intrigued by the group and since homes and museums related to Morris outweigh those relating to the others, I have, over the years, visited Kelmscott Manor in Oxfordshire and, more recently, the William Morris Gallery in Walthamstow in London. The more I learn about Morris, the more fascinated I become by his life and work. So, with colder days closing in on us, I decided that it was now or never. I had to visit The Red House (as it is known) before it got too cold to enjoy outdoor excursions. For, as in the case of most museum-houses, the gardens are an integral part of the house and must be visited in tandem with them.

    I awoke at 6.00 am, did a blog post, looked at fares online for my December  travels to India, consulted the Transport for London and National Trust website for my trip to Red House, ate my breakfast (2 toasted croissants with a variety of spreads and coffee), made myself a sandwich for lunch and left my flat at 8.45 am for the journey to Kent. I took the Central Line Tube to Oxford Street and changed to the Victoria Line to get to Victoria as experience has taught me that the District Line which goes directly from Ealing to Victoria creeps and crawls its way there and takes forever--whereas trains on the Central Line simply fly.

      I arrived at Victoria at 9. 15, stood in line to buy a ticket and was informed that my Oyster Card would be the cheapest way to get there. There was a train leaving in 5 minutes, so off I went on it to Bexleyheath. It also crept and crawled its way through Eastern London and into Kent, but eventually we arrived there. TFL website had informed me about the B12 bus just outside the station (which would save me a walk of an additional 15 minutes--and was free with my Travelcard)--so I caught it, and then, at the bus stop, when I asked a kindly gentleman for directions, he happened to live right besides the house and got into companionable chatter with me as we walked there together. It took me exactly an hour and 45 minutes from door to door to get there by public transport. Not bad at all as the journey was very pleasant throughout.

Visiting Red House:
     Red House is run by the National Trust who acquired it in 2003. It was the home in which William Morris lived from 1860 till 1865 (intriguingly, the exact years that the Civil War was being fought in America! It does put things in perspective!) It is a grand, rambling home made entirely of red bricks (hence the name) and was designed by Phillip Webb (the least known of the Pre-Raphaelites) and a lifelong friend of Morris who instructed him to design a house entirely "Medieval in spirit". Webb complied magnificently. It was built at a cost of 4000 pounds--a huge amount of money for a middle class man to have spent, in those days--and, interestingly, until today, it has never sold for more than that amount! Why? Well, because it is not a grand house, nor even a very usable one and is not in a fashionable town. Indeed, it is really in the midst of nowhere--which explains why no one with real money ever actually wants to live there! Still, for all those downsides, it is beautifully preserved for us, Pre-Raphaelite devotees, and so, there I was at a little before 11.00 am even before the Trust staff had arrived to take their posts. I bought a ticket for 7.20 pounds and was joined by two gentlemen to take the tour given by Jack, who was one of the best tour guides I have ever had. His knowledge was prodigious, his passion for his subject was obvious and his delivery of the material he knew was flawless. Would that all tour guides were this good!

So Who was William Morris?
     To appreciate the nuances of this home, you need to know a bit about William Morris. He was born in the mid-19th century in Essex into a middle-class family. His father who owned copper mines in Devon, died when he was 13 leaving behind 9 children (Morris was the eldest) and an inheritance of shares in the mines (to which Morris would become entitled when he turned 21). His mother moved the family to the house at Walthamstow (a matter of downsizing!) when he was 13 and he lived his crucial teenage years in this home.

At 18, he left home for Exeter College, Oxford, where his tutor was Dante Gabriel Rossetti and he made friends with one Ned Jones who became the celebrated artist Edward Burne-Jones. The three of them gravitated to each other through their love of history and the past. And the reason for this obsession with the past? Well, they were not happy at the way the Industrial Revolution was changing traditional English lifestyles and divorcing people from Nature--which they adored. Hence, in searching through the past, they realized that the Middle Ages were the time when civilization lived as far away from technology as was possible and was closest to Nature. They began to study that era and became obsessed with knights and knighthood mainly through the works of Thomas Malory known as Morte d'Arthur. For the rest of their lives, their work would reflect their affinity with the spirit of the Middle Ages. They joined the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood in Oxford. During their time at Oxford, they often went to France to seek out medieval castles and manors and brought this element into their work. They intended to remain locked in a communal artistic spirit for the rest of their lives as collaborators.  This intention remained a reality until the arrival of Jane Burden on the scene.

     Jane Burden was a working class woman who lived in Oxford. Rossetti spotted her, one day, at a play in Oxford and was struck my her face. She had features that seemed perfect for the medieval spirit he wished to evoke in his paintings. He requested her father (significant coins must have changed hands) to permit her to pose for him. Her father agreed and Jane entered the fray. Morris was introduced to her and fell completely and madly in love with her. When Rossetti went off on a trip, Morris seized the opportunity to propose to her. She accepted--not because she was also in love with him but because she saw it as the only way that she could enter the middle class. A year later, Morris turned 21, came into his inheritance and the couple were married in Oxford. Webb, whom Morris had just met, was asked to design the couple a house. They chose two acres in Kent to do so--it was all farmland then surrounded by a few oast houses. Morris did not pay too much for the land and, in no time, construction began. Morris was a nightmare of a boss and Webb tolerated his micromanagement of the project only because they were close friends. Even today, some vast rooms in the house appear to have the dimensions of medieval castles.

     Morris and Jane lived in Red house for 5 years and had their two daughters there--Jenny and May. The home was always filled with friends and their families as the Morrises were generous hosts and loved to find their rooms filled. At weekends, at a time when there were no trains to Bexleyheath, friends came from London on a train to nearby Abbotswood from where their hosts would send a horse-drawn cart for them to get to Red House.

     Together, the friends set to decorating the house--the men worked on such things as the furniture and the painting, the women worked on the embroidery (Jane was a fine embroiderer and much of her work survives). Burne-Jones married Elizabeth (Lizzie) Siddal who was an artist in her own right. Their idea was to join the Morrises to live at Red House for which a separate wing was to be constructed (Webb was to work on its design too). Sadly, Lizzie's son died in childbirth, she became addicted to laudanum as she tried to fight depression and died of an overdose. She is buried in Highgate Cemetery. The plans, therefore, for the Rossettis to join the Morrises at Red House never materialized. Instead, the Morrises decided to leave Red House and move to the countryside nearer Oxford. They bought Kelmscott Manor and set about making it their own. More time was spent paintings and embroidering in an attempt to re-create the spirit of Red House in their new home.

Unfortunately, by this time, the Morris marriage had turned sour and Rossetti seemed to take it upon himself to be responsible for Jane's happiness. He got involved romantically with her--a matter that shattered the Morris-Rossetti friendship. They came to an understanding that Rossetti and Jane would live in Kelmscott Manor with all their children while Morris went off to Iceland to work. When he recovered from his loss, he returned to England to found Morris & Co. which became his life's contribution to the world of art and creativity as well as Kelmscott Press which led to the publication of the work of their circle of friends--works in which they all collaborated as poets, writers, artists, illustrators and publishers. Kelmscott Manor is also a popular destination for lovers of Morris and his ilk and I have visited it, a few years ago, with much delight.

Exploring Red House:   
     Jack, our tour guide, was the one who provided all the above information--swiftly but comprehensively, he gave us a very good idea of how and why the house came to be built in this part of the country. We were based in the garden while he spoke--this gave us a good view of the well (the only source of water in Morris' day) with its beautiful wooden canopy (also designed by Webb). The gardens were built in untidy beds--as untidy as one finds Nature to be. There are loads of herbs and lots of fruit trees (especially apples). Morris always lived by the adage: Have nothing in your home that you do not believe to be either beautiful or useful. In these days when we are all trying madly to control our clutter, it is a very good adage to live by.

Jack then led us to the main door (medieval in spirit also with its Gothic style arch and heavy iron latches) and into the entrance hall--usually dark, narrow, dingy spaces in the Victorian Age. Morris wasn't having any of it. He ensured that Webb provided him with a vast space, a fireplace (so that guests would feel warmed immediately) and a place to sit and stash one's gloves, hats, scarf, etc. (there is a storage cabinet-cum-bench specifically designed for this purpose.

     As we traversed the rooms, we were introduced to more strange and unusual pieces of large furniture designed by Morris who soon discovered that his talents lay more with design than with art. Although he did paint, he increasingly left most of his painting projects to his friends while he focused on such things as stained glass windows and furniture, wall paper, textile designs and the like. The paintings that still survive in the house (such as on the hall ceiling and in the dining room) were done in collaboration with his friends. In fact, in the hall, Morris made sure the scaffolding was still kept in place when construction ended in order to reach it.  No Michaelangeloesque lying on their backs while they completed it!

In other rooms, there are whole Marriage Scenes in which the friends feature--Jane's unusual lips make her easily discernible in almost every such painting. There are roses too, and tulips, and although some walls and pieces of furniture were painted over by subsequent owners of the house, conservation efforts by the Trust are slowly but surely bringing these panels to light. One of them, in what was the Morris master bedroom, was only very recently unearthed, and it has proven to be a significant art treasure as the hands of almost all of these friends and their wives is evident in it--including a portrait of Rachel by Siddal.

The guest bedrooms are smaller but no less interesting. Some parts of the house are not open to visitors and while Jack made mention of a kitchen staff and servants, we were not given access to it. We saw some ceramic tiles to which Morris turned his hand but they were failures as he had yet to master the technique involved in painting and firing to get permanent glazes.

Finally, the tour ended in a small museum which contains many of the personal possessions of Webb--the possessions of the others are scattered among the other museums and houses that are dedicated to their work. There is Webb's portmanteau, his artist's palette and set of water colors, his snuff boxes, etc, (including one that belonged to Morris and that was presented to him by Jane after Morris died).
     As an afterthought, Jack did let us know that May Morris, his younger daughter, tried hard to keep the house from falling out of the family, but eventually it was bought by someone not related to the group. It was Tim Hollandby and his wife, who owned it for over 50 years, who were most conscious of preserving the Morris heritage inside, They did their best to preserve the original decoration of the house, but as time went by, they did carefully board up the ceiling in one room and painted it white. The Trust has been slowly working to unearth these hidden treasures--thankfully, they did not paint over them.

     I found the entire tour fascinating. Not only did a learn a lot more about William Morris than I had known, but to walk in the rooms that they once did, to be introduced to the carousing and celebration that was part and parcel of this home in happier times, was deeply moving. I am so glad I did finally get to see lovely Red House.
     I spent some time in the shop and ate my sandwich in the café with a hot chocolate because reversing my journey and getting back to London and my home by 2. 45 pm.

Spending the Evening at Home:
     I had a cup of tea and a snack upon my return and then set to work to book tickets through hotels.com for my travels in Sicily next month. At the end of two hours, I had them all done (Thank Heavens!) and also Facetimed with Llew for a while. Then, because I will be out early tomorrow morning to see Eltham Palace (which is so easily accessible on the same train line), I decided to find out what time the Saturday evening Mass would be at Ealing Abbey. When I discovered that it was at 6.00am, I got dressed hastily and made my way to the church.

Mass at Ealing Abbey:   
      Less than 10 minutes walk from my home, Ealing Abbey was crowded with Catholic parishioners when I arrived there. It was a lovely Mass, mostly in English with some sung bits in Latin. It was over in less than an hour as I found my way home in time for dinner. I had part of the lasagne from Carluccio's that I had frozen with a salad made with lettuce, corn and peas, blue cheese and nuts in a yogurt dressing I created with mustard, balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper and, get this, lemon curd! It was amazingly good! As I ate, I watched Rosemary and Thyme and when I felt simply too tired to go on, I ate some chocolate ice-cream, Face timed again with Llew and went straight to bed.
    Until tomorrow, cheerio...