Another Incredible (Graduation) Day in the City of Dreaming Spires: Oxford, Here I Come!

Saturday, July 29, 2023

Oxford: Another Enchanting (Graduation) Day in the City of Dreaming Spires

Getting Out of London:

I am always excited on a trip to Oxford. It brings sharply to my mind my very first journey in 1987 with my friend Firdaus by my side, as we made our way to Oxford to become students there. Other than the fact that we really got to know each other on that journey, I remember sheep in the meadows, cows in the corn. Since then I have done this journey countless times. So, I left my house at 6.30 am, caught the 44 bus from Battersea Park Road to Victoria, got to the Coach Station and since I had over 45 minutes to kill, began to look for breakfast. Sainsbury Local was just across the road, but it only opens at 7.00 am—I had a few minutes’ wait and decided to take a stroll along lovely Elizabeth Street to windowshop.

Window Shopping on Elizabeth Street in London:

I am familiar with Elizabeth Street as the place from where Jo Malone first launched her business in perfume. After she sold Jo Malone to Estee Lauder and gave herself a five-year break before launching another new parfumerie from scratch (Jo Loves), she based it where her love affair with perfume began—on Elizabeth Street. I have been to her lovely fragranced shop here on more occasions than I can remember and this time too, I made a bee line there. Of course, everything was closed and the street, which is basically, a pedestrian plaza, was very quiet. Other shops that caught my eye were Phillip Treacy’s store (he is the millionaire milliner) from which he sells the most amazing hats to a very discerning clientele. The ones I glimpsed from the bow windows were just exquisite and I had visions of Ascot and royal weddings as I took in the sight. There is also Peggy Porchen who makes one-of-a-kind cakes and a couple of antiques shops, including Joanna Wood, whose English Country interiors have been my own inspiration for decades. In fact, I was so enchanted by a pair of lamps in the windows that I could have easily made off with them, if the circumstances were right and I was still living in another era of my life!

Sainsbury’s Baked Goods for Brekkie:

It was time to return to Sainsbury’s (which had just opened) from where I picked up a pain au chocolat and an almond croissant. I did not bother getting coffee as I had a bottle of water in my bag. Inside the coach station, I looked for departures from Oxford on the board—only to find none. I then dug out my ticket to find that National Express has commissioned the Oxford Tube to run their passengers to Oxford. Of course, it meant running across the street to find the coaches lined up there and, in a few minutes, to get my preferred seat (upper deck, front and center) and off we went at 7.25 am on a Saturday morning, while the city still slumbered.

I love the journey out of London—down Buckingham Palace Road, on to Wellington Arch and Apsley House, then around the bend to Park Lane with its expanses of green at Green Park and The Dorchester and the grand sculpture and gardens all along Park Lane until we arrive at Marble Arch, make a sharp left to sail down Bayswater Road past Notting Hill and Lancaster Gate Tube stations and then on to Holland Park (which always makes me look for the home of my friends Loulou and Paul) and on to Shepherd’s Bush and the Westgate Shopping Center. I munched my breakfast pastries en route and thought I would sleep once we did the highway (as has happened in the past), but no luck this time around. I feasted my eyes on sheep and brown cows and black horses as the coach ate up the miles and we took the turn to Lewknor and then the Thornhill Park and Ride before we passed through Hillingdon and entered Oxford at St. Clement’s. From this point on, I began to shoot video footage of the city and our approach into it, past Magdalen Tower and the Botanic Garden and onto Queen’s College where the coach makes a stop before turning left at Carfax to get to St. Aldate’s.

Hopping Off on the High:

Oxford was still asleep (or just awaking) when I hopped off the coach at 9.10 am (right on schedule). I caught a glimpse of a woman in a grand sari, her husband in an Indian achkan. Besides them was their son, a graduating student obviously, already wearing his cap and gown in time for the day’s later formalities and festivities. One of my favorite gift stores in Oxford, Babylon, was still closed and I decided to visit it again after an hour. Although I would usually have simply crossed The High and entered Queens Lane to begin my customary favorite walk, this time round, I decided to do something really different.

First Delightful Walk of the Day:

I retraced the steps of the bus and peered down the stone balustrades over Magdalen Bridge to see the calm Cherwell below. Crew members were getting ready for the day and dozens of punts lay slumbering along the banks of the Botanic Garden. I had the opportunity to take several pictures (including a few selfies on a really windy day) and then crossed the High to begin my walk alone Rose Lane, on the opposite side. I whipped out my trusty map and discovered that if I followed the lane that runs alongside the outer wall of the Botanic Garden, I would reach the Cherwell. It was worth exploring. Not another soul was in sight—so for that brief blissful morning, I had the city and its dreaming spires to myself. En route, when the shot caught my eye, I took pictures of the lush summer bounty in the Botanic Garden where spillage tumbles over the wall: I saw early bunches of grapes on a vine, white Morning Glories, clematis in royal purple and a bunch of wild mauve flowers (gilly flowers) all of which I photographed.

Across, on the other side of a wrought iron fence, I saw the Gothic walls of Merton College across Merton Field. In a few minutes, I reached a bend in the Cherwell. It was still too early to spy punts but on the other side, I saw the pavilion of the cricket ground and the emerald-green expanse of the pitch. Following my map, I walked alongside Merton Field until the spire of Christ Church Cathedral came into view. Then followed more spires, more honey-toned Cotswold stone walls and, in a short time, I was parallel to the Broad Walk that would have led me straight to St. Aldate’s. I decided to walk back to the High past Merton College instead. A small gate brought me to Merton Strreet, the beautiful cobbled oldest street in Oxford on which stands Merton College, the oldest college in the Town, dating from the early 1200s. The bells of Merton College were chiming, and I shot some video—highly atmospheric—before I inquired inside the Porter’s Lodge as to whether I could visit the chapel alone. They said I would need to buy a ticket for 5 pounds to see the entire college. I decided against it (perhaps I shall do it someday with Llew as his nephew as a student at Merton, on a Rhodes Scholarship, when he had studied British jurisprudence here, a few years ago).

I crossed from Magpie Lane back on the High after what was one of the most charming walks I have taken. The early dawn light and the rising sun gilding the Cotswold stone, permitted many delightful photographs across the bright green lawns. I also shot chestnut trees that are getting ready to produce their nut-filled cases.

It was a walk that lasted a whole hour and I looked for a place to sit and perhaps get a hot drink when I realized that Babylon, my preferred gift shop, would be open. I browsed inside but did not find anything that called my name. Leaving quickly, I crossed the street and decided to start my second walk of the day.

My Second Walk in Oxford--One of my Favorites:

I have, in past blog posts, provided details of the history of the colleges I pass through on this, my favorite walk in Oxford (so I shall refrain from doing so this time). Suffice it to say that you pass by New College and spy the spires of All Souls College and then the dome of the Radcliff Camera. In the spring, this walk is more enchanting as wisteria cascades down the college walls bringing a punctuation of mauve notes to the grey and honey toned walls as you pass by old-world gas lamps.

At Hereford College, you go under the Bridge of Sighs and there I made a right to get to the Broad. I noticed at once that the crowds had increased considerably in volume (it was almost 10,30 am by this time). The precincts of the Sheldonian Theatre were out-of-bounds as graduation formalities would be going on inside Christopher Wren’s masterpiece of a building, Oxford’s most recognizable (together with the Radcliff Camera--James Gibbs’ masterpiece). Indeed, Oxford in an architectural paradise and if it is not Wren, it is his pupil Nicholas Hawksmoor’s work (as in the Clarendon Building) that catches the eye. It is an endless visual feast and I ate greedily of the offerings.

I saw down on the bench opposite the Weston Library just for a rest and gazed up at the camera in St. Martin’s School—it is the one place I look at every single day when I am in my usual home as there is a 24 hour streaming service offered by this device. Next, I decided to go along to the Oxfam store where I always look for DVDs and other vintage treasures. This time I found The Monuments Men, one of the most mesmerizing of stories for an art lover. I grabbed it for 2 pounds and then sat outside the store for a while in the pavement café area where tables and chairs offered my feet some respite. I found the city simply heaving. Large crowds of students (some looking no older than high schoolers) were out taking guided walks with certified guides (obviously all taking summer school courses at Oxford). I listened to the commentary from some of them and discovered that St. Frideswald, a Medieval saint whose personal story of chastity is closely linked with the city, has a church somewhere close by and that Mr. Bean (Rowan Atkinson) studied Engineering at Trinity College, across the road from where I sat.

By then it was about 12 noon and I had a 12.30 pm lunch appointment with my friend Dr. Fiona Mann who was driving in from Upper Compton (or Lower?) to meet me. I joined the throngs on Cornmarket Lane, popped into Boots to find clip-on sunglasses and then turned the bend at Carfax to enter St. George’s Street before getting to the Westgate Shopping Center. I popped into Jo Malone, spritzed myself to freshen up and then walked along the High to get to Whittard’s to meet my friend Christophe who works there. Alas, I discovered that he left over a year ago and no one knows where he now is. Oh well…

Lunch with My Friend at Vaults and Gardens Café:

On cue, at 12.30, I found myself gazing at the dome of the Radcliff Camera and at the vast crowds posing for pictures along its wrought iron fencing. When I entered the Vaults and Gardens Café that I know well as I have eaten here at various times, over the years, with various friends, my friend Fiona spied me right away. We had an affectionate reunion hug before we found a table and settled down for a right royal natter. It has been exactly 14 months since she took Llew and me in her car to Waddendon Manor, a totally unforgettable experience, in the Aylesbury countryside. This time round, we decided to get lunch (my treat—after all, she had driven a long way to see me) and then sit down for a long catch up.

We went inside the restaurant to order: the menu changes daily and is up on the walls on large blackboards. I ordered a Squash, Celeriac and Coriander Soup (served with sourdough bread and butter) and an Oxford Cheddar and Gruyere Sourdough Rarebit. Fiona ordered the rarebit and a coffee and took our trays outside, found a lovely table at the side and focussed on enjoying our chat and our meal. The afternoon was simply gorgeous, weather-wise, with the cool wind tempered by the warmth of the sun. After we had exchanged family news and talked about our respective current academic projects, that is a good two hours later, we parted company having taken some pictures in Radcliff Square.

Third Walk—This one in Exeter College:

It was just past 2.30 pm when Fiona and I said our goodbyes. It was the perfect time for me to visit my own college, Exeter College, and so off I went down Brasenose Lane, only to realize that the Fellows Garden and the ramparts of the wall that overlooks Radcliff Square, would be completely out of bounds, long-term, as a huge renovation is occurring in the Library of Exeter College.

When I entered the Porter’s Lodge, I discovered that almost the entire college premises were taken over by a wedding party. There was a large white marquee on the main Quad lawns and the Porter informed me that although alumni were permitted to enter, they were requested to stay away from the chapel where the nuptials had just taken place, the dining hall where the luncheon feast would shortly occur (in the marquee, drinks and cocktails were being served) and the Fellows Garden (where full-scale construction had shut down the entire venue). Fortunately, I was able to enter the Margary Quad where my room was located and where I was able to take a few pictures.

Museum Exploration Begins—The Weston Library First:

A little later, I got out of Exeter College and decided to cross the Broad to get to Blackwell’s Book Store where I could rest my feet. I was beginning to feel seriously fatigued by this time and needed a rest. Inside Blackwell’s, I found one of my favorite books on Oxford, It is fully illustrated by George Byfield whose watercolors I simply adore—I own the companion book on ‘London’ and someday I will buy the Oxford book too. Only not on this occasion. I took a picture of Lady Margaret Hall College from the book for my Repatriates Group friend, Deborah, before I left. I had given myself a 45-minute rest and I was ready to leave.

Next door, I found myself in the gift shop of the Weston Library. I browsed around and found a lot of new merchandise. That’s the great thing about these museum stores—they are constantly changing their wares (so there is always a pleasant surprise). The cushion covers and the tote bags based on the Medieval tapestry out in the lobby are fully sold out. I am so glad I had bought the tote bags, a year ago, and fashioned cushions out of them myself. I spied a nice scarf printed with books from the 1940s, but I have too many scarves and could do without it.

I used the facilities at the Weston Library and then decided to take a look at their newest exhibitions. These too are always changing and one can be fascinated by what one finds of the treasures of the collection. There was an exhibition on ‘The Giver and the Gift’ (the gifts being books) that had on display medieval psalters and Bibles and Quorans that were written on scrolls as well as contemporary books. I was already too fatigued to be able to read every curatorial note, but I got a general gist of the show. Had I more time, I know I would have enjoyed it much more. The second exhibition, in the adjoining gallery was entitled ‘Alphabets Live”—a show on the manner in which the alphabet and their letters feature in our lives. I did not give it too much time before I left to make my way to the Ashmolean Museum. It was already 3.30 pm and I would have no more than 90 minutes there.

Visiting the Ashmolean Museum:

On an afternoon that was simply crammed with human beings, St. Giles and particularly the corner where the Ashmolean Museum shares space with the five-star Randolph Hotel, I tried to spy the location of the other webcam that streams 24/7 scenes of real-life in real time on You Tube. I believe I did see it tucked in a window on the first floor. I looked at the crowds crossing the street and decided to get away as quickly as possible. Going through the side street and gate that takes one into the Ashmolean Museum, for the first time, I found myself on the buzzing portico of the Neo-Classical building.

Once inside, I lost little time making my way to the Porcelain Rooms which I always love and where I can spend a whole day. Sadly, I was running out of time and energy and made a direct bee line for the European paintings on the second floor. Of course, I saw Paolo Uccelo’s The Hunt and Pietro di Cosimo’s The Forest Fire (both of which have individual episodes of Morse and Lewis respectively based on them) before I climbed one floor to get to the Pre-Raphaelites and Turner’s View of Oxford. This time round, my eyes were attracted to two wonderful paintings by William Bell Scott (1811-1890), an artist with whose name I am unfamiliar. He has painted two works that sit side-by-side in the Ashmolean: Keats’ Grave and Shelley’s Grave—both in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome where they died within a year of year other (1821 and 1822—my favorite poet Keats first, then his best friend Shelley). Somewhat inexplicably, the cemetery sits right by a Pyramid and both poets, lie in its shadow. They are truly evocative of the Romantic Age and the tragic lives of the poets that gave us some of our best-loved works.

By then, it was 5.00 pm and the museum staff were already bustling us out. I used the facilities in the basement for the last time and then began to think seriously of getting home. I popped into a second-hand bookstore on the way out and then into Five Guys for a coffee and their salted peanuts. Almost an hour later, I decided to see if the conductor on the Oxford Tube would permit me to board early—my ticket said 8.30, but by 6.00 pm, I’d had enough and badly needed a long sit-down. The thought of walking all the way down the High to Queen’s College was daunting until I remembered that I could board the bus at the terminus at Gloucester Green which was less that five minutes away. And that’s what I did. It gave me a chance to look at the Gloucester Green Street Market which was winding down and, in about ten minutes, I was in a coach ready to wend my exhausted way home. I discovered that there is no restriction on when one has return—any time within a three month period is fine. I loved the flexibility and off we went!

En route to London:

I seriously thought I would have a long snooze on the bus; I had a very friendly and talkative companion who happened to be a second year PhD Chemistry student at St. Edmund Hall. His name was Jasper and he told me all about his dissertation and his American girl friend who wishes to specialize in Urulogy. The miles were just eaten up by our conversation and before I knew it, he was getting off at White City heading home to his parents who live at Ealing, not too far from where I had once rented a Victorian flat! In Oxford, he was renting a flat at Norham Gardens where I had once rented a flat! We simply could not get over the coincidence!

Back Home to Battersea:

It was just past 8.15pm when we arrived at Victoria. I ate the second half of my Rarebit on Sourdough in the coach together with a helping of Tiramisu which I had bought from Sainsbury earlier in the day. This meant that I could get home, take a shower and go straight to bed as I was deeply fatigued.

The 44 bus from across the Victoria coach station was not long in coming and I jumped into it and rode the 15 minute journey to Battersea where I got off and walked quickly along Candahar Road to Sarah’s. Inside, I found her at the end of a nice dinner party with two friends, one of whom had a dog named Lola. Sarah asked if I wanted a drink, but I was only keen to get up to my room. Once inside, I sorted through my things, checked my email and whatsapp messages (as I had no connectivity all day), brushed and flossed my teeth and went straight to bed at 10.30 pm.

Until tomorrow…cheerio!

An Art Obsessed Day in London: Visits to 575 Wandsworth Road, London Art Biennale, Wallace Collection, National Gallery

An Art Obsessed Day in London: Visits to 575 Wandsworth Road, London Art Biennale, Wallace Collection, National Gallery

Friday, July 28, 2023, London

Waking in my Favorite City in the World:

There is something super special about waking up in London--no matter which part it might be. This time it is Battersea, on a very quiet side street called Candahar Road off Battersea Park Road. My friend Sarah makes me ultra comfortable with a breakfast that I have always loved: muesli with yogurt (it’s my favorite, Greek Yoghurt with honey) and good strong coffee made in her snazzy Nespresso machine. I had showered earlier as jetlag woke me up at 4.30am. It left me ample time to blog, shower, dress, plan my day and enjoy the quiet of the morning before frenetic activity would engulf me.

I was out of her home by 8.30am to keep my first appointment: I had a private tour scheduled with Laura who runs the National Trust property that is simply known as 575 Wandsworth Road. I jumped into the 345 bus, got off at Clapham Junction, then from across the road I took the 87 bus, got off at St. Rule's Road where, just a few steps away, was my destination.

Visiting 575 Wandsworth Road:

There is nothing to announce how special this property, run by the National Trust for the past ten years, actually is. Getting tickets is quite impossible as the home is small, its contents fragile and only groups of six are allowed in at one time. I was fortunate to have none but the Director, Laura, offer me a private tour and introduce me to Nora, the lovely assistant who runs the place with her.

Kadambhi Asalache was a Kenyan-born poet, writer, artist, wood carver and member of the British Civil Service. He arrived in London in the 1960s from Kenya and lived until 2004. He bought the house in Clapham and, quite by accident, developed an interest in wooden fretwork, which he spent the last 25 years of his life carving. Using seasoned pine, he traced out and drilled patterns in wood that he then carved to create panels that he used to decorate the ceilings, walls, furniture in his home--indeed, later, he even designed furniture to suit the aesthetics of his home.

The end result is a fascinating receptable of his art and craftsmanship that leaves the visitor's jaw hanging. He bequeathed his property to the National Trust who then lavished time, attention, money and thought on the project before opening it up to the public. In addition to making his hobby a decorative obsession, he was an inveterate collector and the home is filled with his collection of antiques including lusterware, ceramics, bottles, dishes, ink stands, you name it. Photography is strictly prohibited in the house--which is why the astute visitor must commit everything to memory--a pretty tall task in a home where there is no visual respite for the saturated eye. I can only urge anyone interested in art, antiques, decorative collecting hobbies, architecture and interior design to make a beeline for the home. You will not be disappointed, even if, like me, you will spend about 45 minutes on buses to get there. You will traverse much of Wandsworth, Lambeth and Clapham and end up awed at the nondescript corner of London that is endowed with the artistic genius of a single man who lived with his partner Suzie Thompson, also an artist, to create a space that is mind-bogglingly beautiful.

On the Bus and Tube Into Central London:

Based on the advice I received from the charming, hospital, generous and lovely staff members at 575 Wandsworth Road, I jumped into a bus from the opposite side of Wandsworth Road going to Vauxhall from where I picked up a packet of Belgian Chocolate and Hazelnut Biscuits from Waitrose (as my tummy was already rumbling, if you can believe it) and jumped into the Tube to Victoria. I had an errand to run at the Visitor Center from where I picked up a very large map of London before trying to find the usual Travelex window counter at which I have always exchanged my dollars for pound sterling. Alas, that place has closed down. I had to keep my eye open for the next available exchange place.

Into the Tube I hopped at Victoria and got off two stops later at Slone Square. I had a lunch appointment with my friends on Sloane Street but since I had time to kill, I indulged in one of my favorite passtimes: scouring high street charity shops for British DVDs, vintage jewelry and silk scarves. I found Downton Abbey: The Movie for just one pound in one shop on the King's Road which I scoured by jumping in and out of the 22 bus as it made its way to Putney. I know exactly where my favorite of these shops is...but I have to say that prices have skyrocketed ever since the pandemic. I saw a non-designer silk scarf for 40 pounds and a Balengiaca one for 60 pounds. With not too much luck in thriftware, I decided to stop off at Chelsea Town Hall.

Visiting The Annual Art Biennale at Chelsea Town Hall:

I can never pass up an art show when it looks me in the eye--and so there I was entering the gorgeous interior of tChelsea Town Hall with its Baroque decorative touches--in a way, the exhibition gave me an excuse to see a building into which I had never before entered. Inside, there was enthralling work of unequal interest and quality. A few canvasses caught my eye and they were not wildly expensive. For instance, for under 2000 pounds, the discerning art lover could well have walked away with stunning portraits, lovely oil painted landscapes and still lives. I was only there to appreciate, of course, because even had I a spare few thousand pounds in my pocket, I have no wall space left to display any more art work! But a portrait of Putin done with thousands of tiny, plastic colorful skulls was interesting as were a couple of amazing portraits of the city. I did not spend too much time here as the hour had come for me to make my way to my lunch appointment.

Having Lunch with Chelsea Friends:

My friends Michael and Cynthia live in a lovely flat on Sloane Street and every time I walk through the door, I feel as if I have come home. They are my closest friends (almost family) in London (Cynthia and I think of ourselves as sisters) and they are always the epitome of warm hospitality. Lunch of Grilled Salmon with Boiled New Potatoes, Green Beans and Fried Courgettes tes with Stewed Fruit and Ice-Cream gave us a chance to catch up on the last 14 months (which was when I last saw them). None of us know where time flies as we gab on talking about our families, activities, mutual friends, etc. About three hours after I had a delicious meal at their home, I was reedy to soldier on. I always wonder when I will see them next...but I am optimistic. I was lucky to catch them both in London, given that they are off on a cruise next week!

Stopping at a Favorite Shop and a Favorite Church:

As I made my way back to John Lewis department store to catch my bus to my next port of call, I sighed at the mess that is Sloane Street, at the moment. In a multi-million pound refurbishment (an attempt, Cynthia said, to make it even more posh), they are widening the road and making most of it a pedestrian plaza. For the moment, it means inconvenience for residents and visitors alike. However, walking towards the bus stop took me into one of my favorite stores in the world, Jo Malone, where I met the lovely shop assistant called Ruby and spent some time discussing my favorite fragrances with her. I left with a bunch of samples (Oh Goody Gumboots!) and a promise to return to the store soon.

I then found myself passing by Trinity Church on Sloane Square which I know has one of the most staggering stained glass windows by none other than one of my favorite artists, the Pre-Raphaelite, Edward Burne-Jones. Of course, I had to step inside to see it again and to spend a few moments in a prayer of gratitude at the opportunity that has brought me back to spend a week in London. I took pictures, chatted with a member of a choral group that has a recital rehearsal going on and then took my leave.

On the Bus to Bond Street:

Ny next port of call was Bond Steet from where I intended to walk down Great Marlborough Street to get to the Wallace Collection. I had not visited it last year when Llew and I had spent two weeks in London. Hence, I was due for another visit.

The long bus ride in the 22 bus took me down Piccadilly and into Regent's Street and then Oxford Street where I got off and walked to Bond Street Station. There I found a place where money exchange was done and knowing that it would be a while before I could find another place, I got my dollars exchanged. Mission Accomplished, I used my map and walked along James Street to get to Manchester Square where the grand Baroque Building that houses the personal art collection of the Dukes of Hereford cam be found.

Visiting the Wallace Collection:

I discovered that the museum had a special exhibition called ‘Portraits of Dogs in Art’ and I was granted a free entry pass (based on my Metropolitan Museum ID card--saving me 16 pounds!). The exhibition is small and sweet and introduced me to a vast number of dog portraits down by Edward Landseer (who designed the huge bronze lions at Trafalgar Square), as well as a large number of portraits of his two daschunds, by the modernist David Hockney who took solace in their presence as he went through a crisis. It was a wonderful visit and I am glad I stopped by.

Of course, I could not leave the Wallace without looking at my favorite works there: I adore Miss Bowles and Her Dog by Joshua Reynolds, but this time my eye was caught by an adjoining work called Strawberry Girl also by Reynolds. Portraits of children by Greuse always enchant me in this space. Of course, I also saw The Swing by Fragonard, The Laughing Cavalier by Franz Hals, Nicholas Poussin's Dance to the Music of Time (which seemed much smaller than I remembered it--I believe a much larger version is at the Met in New York), Canaletto's depictions of the Grand Canal, Hobema's wonderful Dutch landscapes, portraits by Rembrandt of himself and his son, Titus, Pieter de Hooch's Woman with Boy and Bread (I just love his Flemish domestic scenes), the endless 18th century work of Francois Boucher which seems to cover every wall with buxom women and fat cherubs in idyllic pastoral settings and, of course, the vast (and I mean, vast) collection of painted European porcelain (of which I can never tire).

I managed to finish all of this grand spectacle of ostentatious wealth before I left the place when it closed at 5.00 pm and walked back to the Tube Station. It was an intensely satisfying visit.

Off to the National Gallery for Late Evening Closing:

When in London, I always make sure I spend Friday evening at the National Gallery as I am aware that they are open until 9 pm on this day of the week. The Tube (Central Line to Northern Line) got me there in about 20 minutes and by 5.30 pm, I was walking through the door of the special exhibition entitled "After Impressionism: Modern Art Begins' for which I had obtained a ticket online.

Inside, as expected, I found myself staring at many works for the first time by Cezanne, Van Gogh, Sisley, Pisarro, Seurat, etc. as well as work by lesser-known artists (at least to me) such as Paul Serusier, Maurice Dennis, etc. It ended up being a most interesting show as it brought us all the way to the work of Picasso whose aesthetic was decidedly influenced by his virtual guru, Cezanne. I also enjoyed works by Klimt including a lesser-known portrait of Adele Blauch-Bauer (the Woman in Gold is far better known).

I thought I would use the next few hours more wisely than by simply going back to say Hello to my favorite canvasses. Hence, I popped into Crivelli's Garden by the late Portuguese-British artist, Paula Rego, who took one of my favorite canvasses in the Gallery—a painting by Carlo Crivelli--to present her interpretation of it when she had been appointed first artist-in-residence at the National in 1990-91. The result is a simply long stretch of wall that presents her take on Crivelli's original vision. In the background are the blue and white tiles of her native Portugal and in the foreground, a number of human figures representing scenes from the Bible, Mythology and modernism. She used as her models the working staff of the gallery (so lucky to be immortalized for posterity through the hands of one of Britain’s best-known artists). It did not take me too long to inspect the work carefully and move on.

Next on my agenda was a visit to the ‘St. Francis of Assisi’ exhibition that is contained within about eight rooms, all of which trace the life of the saint and his huge impact on artists through the ages. From the Italian Sasetta to works by Zurbaran (deeply moving) and Murillo all the way up to the very contemporary work of Modernists, the exhibition took me back to my own visit to Assisi where I had become fully acquainted with the fascinating life of this most beloved of Catholic saints.

I then spent some time on retail therapy and found some jewelry I rather liked that I picked up as gifts for friends in the US. By this time, I was hungry and sat and ate two of my cookies which kept me going. I also needed to rest my feet and my back which had started to ache by this point.

E

njoying A Lebanese Dinner with Rosemary:

My good friend Rosemary with whom I was in touch told me that she would meet me at about 8.30 pm at the Gallery and we did meet when it was closing and we were all being thrown out. We hugged and laughed at the misunderstanding that caused us to meet 20 minutes later than expected, but then walked briskly to Piccadilly from where we took the 19 towards Battersea. It was Roz's idea that we eat dinner at a Lebanese place called Al-Phoenicia from where we could take a cab for the short ride back to her home and her sister Sarah's home (where I would be for a couple of days).

The long bus ride and dinner gave us a chance to catch up. At the other end of Battersea Bridge is the restaurant where we sat with mezzes such as moussaka, lamb kibbeh and fattoush salad over glasses of red and rose wine to enjoy a relaxing evening that started the weekend for her. I will be staying with Roz for a few nights early next week and, no doubt, we would do much more catching up then.

On a day that was cool in the morning and warm in the afternoon, I was grateful to have my cardigan with me as it turned nippy again after sunset. We found a cab and, as decided, Roz dropped me off to her sister's place. I bid her goodbye and knew that I would see her again soon.

At home, I saw Sarah briefly to wish her goodnight and tell her about my plans for tomorrow (Oxford).

Then I went up to my room, got myself ready for bed and for my day trip tomorrow. I had left the house at 8.30 am and returned at 11. 15 pm after what had been an art-obsessed day. No wonder I crave my visits to London—among other things, they provide me with my annual art fix!

Until tomorrow...

Goodbye Bombay, Hello London: Delighted to be Back in T'Smoke!

Goodbye Bombay, Hello London

Thursday, July 27, 2023

I left Bombay on a weepy day, at the very crack of dawn. Llew was nursing what seemed like the flu, but managed to accompany me to the lobby of our building, as I went in search of a rickshaw to get me to Sahar International Airport. I was lucky to find one on the main road in minutes and less that half an hour later, after I had bid Llew goodbye, I entered the airport precincts, ready to launch on another new travel adventure in my favorite roost in the world, London.

Smooth Check-in and Flight:

I have flown by Virgin Atlantic before and I have to say that I have no reservations about the airline. Check-in was very smooth and with Junaid at the desk, I was immediately upgraded to Economy Delight--it offered wider seats and more leg room--certainly welcome on a flight that would last nine hours. However, when I discovered that my new upgraded seat would be on the wing, I graciously declined the offer and found myself at a window seat that was far from the wing, would allow me to take pictures of the take off from Bombay and landing in London and left the middle seat free--ah the bliss of being able to spread out! I also had a very friendly companion named Yogesh with whom I had a friendly conversation when he was not asleep and I was not engaged with the in-flight entertainment. I watched one good movie, Banshees of Inisherin, a really hauntingly beautiful film by Martin McDonaugh starring Colin Farrel (in a superb perfomance) and Brendan Gleeson (whose work I have always loved). Set on the Aran Islands off the mainland of Ireland, the stark cinematography echoes the bleak plot line that focusses on the loss of male friendship and its tragic outcome.

Taking off from Bombay meant that in literally seconds, we were up in thick Southwest monsoon clouds and, to my annoyance, the cabin crew on the flight montor passenges' ability to darken or lighten the automatic window screens. This meant that I was unable to take pictures of the passing landscape below me, as I had desired, but I did get some lovely video on our landing in London on a thickly overcast afternoon at 4.00 pm. Food on the flight was plentiful but largely tasteless; but one does not expect too much of airline meals anyway.

Arrival in London:

Disembarking in London is now a breeze for US passport holders as one is not required to stand in a snaking Immigration queue but is out of the automatic scanning booths in seconds. My baggage (two large but fairly light cases--as I am traveling without very much) emerged about a half hour after landing and I began my journey into Central London with a fair bit of trepedation.

It was going to be a long and fairly arduous journey but I trusted my experience and ability to habndle it. I bought a week's Travelcard from the machine at Heathrow airport's Piccadilly Line Tube station and with it, I have unlimited access to tube and buses in every zone (not that I need all of them). There was a train just arriving on the platform when I arrived there (mercifully, there was a lift) and into it I hopped, all ready for the 40 minute ride to South Kensington where I would get off.

However, once I got off at South Ken, I was in trouble as there was no elevator in sight. Luckily, very helpful communters assisted me with one case and I was able to handle the other. A member of the Underground staff informed me where I could find a taxi stand and, to my amazement, it was right in the middle of the road! A helful cabbie came forward to assist me again and in minutes, I was in his black cab heading to Battersea to the home of my friend Sarah Raynor where I shall be staying for the next three nights. To our horrid luck, however, we hit end of office-day traffic and we crept through Kensington and Chelsea. Just before Albert Bridge that we intended to cross, we discovered that a lorry whose dirver misjudged the widst of his vehicle, got stuck on the barrier and ended up closing off the entire bridge to the rest of the mounting traffic behind. We lost a lot of time while my cab meter climbed ever higher! I ended up paying almost 35 pounds for a 20 pound journey--much to my annoyance! My cabbie took Battersea Bridge instead and more than an hour later, I was at Sarah's door--the longest cab ride ever!.

Typical English Dinner at Sarah's:

Sarah showed me up to my room on the first floor and helped me carry my cases up. She was expecting a friend called Didey any minute--a dinner guest--who turned out to be delightful company. I had a lovely G and T placed in my hand and with nibbles (nuts, ham and cheese), we chatted a bit before we made our way to Sarah's lovely warm kitchen with its center table, all laid out for our meal.

Sarah described her meal as "typically English" and it was just scrumptious: Cauliflower Cheese (which I love) with thick juicy slices of Gammon folloewd by Comte cheese, crackers and grapes and dessert (English strawberries with salted caramel ice-cream). Such a perfect entry into London on such a nice summer's evening. My friend Ros (Sarah's sister) called later in the evening to find out if I had arrived safely. We said a quick hello and hope to meet tomorrow.

I discussed my plans for tomorrow with Sarah who showed me the adjoining bathroom outside my room and the use of the shower and after a very cozy evening, I said bye to my friends and adjouned upstairs as it was almost 3.00 am Bombay time (and yet, funnily enough, I was still full of beans!)

It was a good entry into London (although I could have done without the Albert Bridge annoyance and the traffic!) and I looked forward to a really wonderful week of re-discovery of the city.

Until tomorrow...cheerio!