Today All About Doing My Favorite London Things! Being a Sloane Ranger, Taking a (Free) Red Bus Tour, Re-Exploring Covent Garden, Lunch at Bill’s, Seeing the Poppies at the Tower of London, Late Evening Openings at the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery and Viewing London By Night.

Friday, September 12, 2025

London, UK

Today All About Doing My Favorite London Things!

Being a Sloane Ranger, Taking a (Free) Red Bus Tour, Re-Exploring Covent Garden, Lunch at Bill’s, Seeing the Poppies at the Tower of London, Late Evening Openings at the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery and Viewing London By Night.

Being jetlagged meant I woke up at odd hours throughout the night and eventually was wide awake by 5.30 am. It was time to get out of bed, shower, eat a makeshift light breakfast of airline marble cake and pot of strawberry yogurt, then make sure I’d taken everything I needed for the day (as I had no intention of climbing those four flights of stairs more than once a day) and leaving to begin my day.

Buying a 7-Day Oyster Travel Card:

Thankfully, the Tube Strike that had so hampered my arrival into the city yesterday, was already history, by the time I awoke. I was able to walk about ten minutes to Fulham Broadway Underground Station from where I topped up my Oster Card with a 7-day Travel card for zones 1 and 2 at a cost of 44 pounds (which now gives me unlimited use of the Tubes and buses). This done, I left the station and took a bus going along the Fulham Road…but I alighted after just two stops to walk along Gunter Close to get to the King’s Road.

Being a Sloane Ranger:

While the rest of the city got on with the boring tasks of commuting to work, I planned to explore the King’s Road which runs parallel to Fulham Road and is a short cross-town walk away along Gunter Close. Here, I passed by the home of Arthur Ransome, author of ‘Swallows and Amazons’, one of the best-selling novels for young adults. In a short time, I arrived at World’s End and began walking east to get to my favorite charity shops. Over the years, I have picked up real treasures in their shops at throwaway prices. It was still a little before 10 am by the time I reached the corner where three shops sit snugly in a little bend: Royal Trinity, Cancer Research and Oxfam. From the last, I got two beautiful pairs of very classy gold tone ear-rings for almost no money at all. It was so worth it making these places my first ports of call.

Waitrose--For a Real Brekkie and a Free Coffee:

I hopped into the first bus that would sail along the King’s Road while ardent shoppers had yet to hit the street. Of course, I felt like a Sloane Ranger as I nipped into ‘M and S Food’ and bought myself a little case of chocolate profiteroles which (with chocolate eclairs) are one of my favorite things to buy and eat in the UK—what’s more, I snagged them at a discount. Armed with this booty, I strode west to Shawfield Street to check out yet another Oxfam store. Again, no luck (but then thrift shopping is always pick of the draw—and I had already done well—so no regrets).

Across the street, I entered Waitrose and headed straight for their baked goods. I picked up a nut-flake studded almond croissant and my free coffee (I remembered to carry my reusable cup in my bag!). Was also thrilled to see that the Food magazine is still being published—for some reason, I can no longer access it on the Waitrose app (this had led me to believe that its publication had been discontinued). I picked up my copy and found a quiet corner to eat my real breakfast and could not resist popping a few profiteroles into my mouth too. Then, it was time to leave the supermarket and move on (by which time it was already 11.30 am).

On to Bus 11 for a Free ‘See London’ Tour:

It’s no secret that Bus 11 that goes from Fulham Broadway to Tower Hill gives riders one of the cheapest ways to explore the city as its route covers all the main attractions. And so I settled down, front and center (my favorite seat on the red double deckers) to enjoy the scene. Past Sloane Square we went toward Pimlico (I absolutely love looking at the interior decorators’ shops here and their splendidly classy displays when I have the time and am on foot—Viscount Linley. Joanna Wood, etc.). Then on toward Victoria we went, passing by the Coach Station, the taking Buckingham Palace Road to the Train Station. Along Victoria Road we went, as I prepared my camera to shoot the famous Westminster Abbey, Parliament Square and Big Ben that lay ahead. I was all set to see the bus turn towards Trafalgar Square when, guess what? It made one of those infuriating diversion and headed along Westminster Bridge where it was terminating at Waterloo. Oh well…the tour had been fun while it had lasted!

Making my Way to Covent Garden:

By then, it was about 12. 15 pm. I had a 1.00 pm lunch appointment in Covent Garden and had to figure out how to jump off the bus and head back in the opposite direction towards Big Ben and Trafalgar Square. When a bus came along, I hopped into it and, as decided, got off at Trafalgar Square. From there, I crossed the street to get into another bus headed to Covent Garden. It was just a little before 1.00 pm when I reached the famous landmark only to get hopelessly lost at this point. I simply could not find St. Martin’s Courtyard although I was right on St. Martin’s Lane. I called my friend Elise (who had already reached the restaurant) and informed her that I was very close but despite using a map and my internet data I wasn’t able to reach the place as my server could not be reached. Eventually, she told me to wait where I was and she came out to get me! Once we reached the venue, I realized I would never have found it on my own. It is in a sheltered courtyard, completely hidden away from sight from any of the maze of streets that make up Covent Garden (the entrance is right by the New Dishoom--the popular Indian street food restaurant where I have eaten before and whose very interesting cookbook I own).

Lunch with a Favorite Student at Bill’s:

Elise is simply the best NYU student I have ever taught in almost three decades of being a professor of Liberal Studies. For multiple reasons, our relationship went way beyond the classroom and, through the decades, we have continued to stay closely in touch. As she married an Englishman and settled down in London, Llew and I have grown to know her family well and have watched her lovely children grow. She has had us over for dinner at her home (first in Hyde Park, now in Kensington) several times, over the years. But this time, we decided to meet at ‘Bill’s’ in Covent Garden.

I was introduced to Bill’s by another English friend, Rosa, about ten years ago—and ever since then, it is a favorite UK eatery that offers one of my favorite things to eat in this country—their superlative Fish Pie. It is a creamy concoction, based on cheesy mashed potato that hides a succulent white sauce laden with cod, salmon and shrimp and a load of sweet peas. It is a massive meal, to be sure, and one I relish greatly. Elise chose the Set Lunch which offered a Main and a Dessert—she had the Grilled Mackerel that came on a bed of salad with a yogurt dressing and as she decided to pass on dessert, I had just a bit of it myself—a Chocolate and Salted Caramel Tart. It was wonderfully smooth but since my Pie was so filling, all I managed were a few forkfuls. And when it came time to pay the bill, Elise insisted on treating me. I was overwhelmed by her generosity but she told me that when she comes to Bombay, I can reciprocate—she and her husband James do have plans to visit, she says. After taking several pictures and having a non-stop chinwag that covered everything family-related—a catch-up that lasted about two hours, we hugged and parted company. I am always impressed by Elise—her intelligence, her maturity, her exposure to the world, her affection. As if raising two teenagers is inadequate, she is in training to run the London half-marathon. Honestly, she never ceases to amaze and inspire me.

On the Bus to the Tower of London:

Saying goodbye to Elise is always hard as there is a special place in my heart for her. But part we had to…and I explored Covent Garden with its Jubilee Market (selling just a bunch of tourist tack today), watched the buskers perform, took a few pictures of the glorious architecture of the area which is always reminiscent to me of the film, ‘My Fair Lady’. I can always see Eliza Doolittle selling her bunches of flowers to Prof. Higgins when I walk along these cobbled streets and pass by the pillars of St. Paul’s Church.

The No. 15 bus, on the Strand, took absolutely ages to come. After I’d waited about 15 minutes, I realized something was wrong. And I was right—there was a diversion somewhere up the route and it was not passing by the Savoy (opposite of which I was standing). In despair, I took the 26 going towards Ludgate Hill intending to alight at St. Paul’s Cathedral from where I would take another bus to Tower Hill. It had rained while we were lunching and the roads were wet. Thankfully, I always have my little umbrella in my bag and I fought the drizzle.

Past St. Paul’s, the bus sailed along. I eventually got off at Mansion House where, hey presto, I saw a No. 15 heading towards me. Somewhere up ahead, it had resumed its regular route…and on it, I arrived at Tower Hill.

Seeing the Ceramic Poppies at the Tower of London:

My next mission was to see the famous red ceramic poppies that are displayed at the Tower of London. Now I have been inside the Tower innumerable times over the years and had no intention of getting there again. But I did want to see the poppies that were created a few years ago by ceramicist, Paul Cummins. Here is the reason they first came into being: “The red ceramic poppies were first displayed at the Tower of London in 2014 as part of the art installation ‘Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red’ to mark the centenary of the First World War. The installation featured 888,246 handmade poppies, with each one representing a British or Colonial military life lost in the conflict. The display filled the Tower's moat from July to November 2014, serving as a poignant visual commemoration of the staggering scale of loss during the war.”

Cummins had set each poppy up on a tall wire to stand erect. No two poppies are the same—each had petals that are shaped differently making each piece unique. They filled the moat in 2014 and were an unforgettable sight that had attracted hordes of visitors. Many of them spilled out of the windows of the Tower. They had left an indelible mark upon me as I had also visited Picardie in France, where, on the banks of the Somme, the maximum loss of life had occurred on a single day. In fact, I had done a whole summer’s course in Paris on France’s memory of The Great War and had actually visited the fields in which the poppies had sprung up—making them an emblem of pain, grief and sorrow. Every year, from the first to the eleventh of November (Armistice Day), the British still wear red poppies in their lapels to commemorate the dead. As I had missed the 2014 exhibition, I was delighted to be able to see some of them (this time marking the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II). Most of the poppies had been sold to the public, but some are on permanent exhibition at the Imperial War Museum in London. It is from there that they have been brought to the Tower of London to remain until Armistice Day this year (November 11). Some of the poppies can be seen free of charge by the public (without purchase of a ticket to the Tower) and it was those that I had trekked out East to see.

And yes, the poppies are striking. Most of them are at Traitor’s Gate on the Tower of London Wharf, while others can be seen spilling out of a high tower window. As I love ceramics and British history and know a great deal about the origin of the poppies as a sad symbol of war, I was really thrilled to be there and I took many pictures. I also enjoyed views of the Thames under Tower Bridge (enduring emblem of London) as the sun had peeped out again and was lighting up the water.

Back on the Bus to Trafalgar Square:

By this time, it was gone 5 pm and I had two more missions to accomplish on my To-Do List for the Day. Friday is late evening opening at both the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery (both located at Trafalgar Square)—they stay open until 9.00 pm. And so, I made my way to the Bus stop, hoping to take the Bus 15 to the venue. A Routemaster 15 came just a couple of minutes later—but the conductor told me that the Oyster Card was not valid on the bus. Since it is now considered “a Heritage Bus Route”, passengers are required to use contactless cards and are charged 50p more per journey. Well! Thankfully, I have had my fair share of riding the Routemaster buses through the years and I decided to wait for the next regular No. 15 bus instead. I just cannot believe how commercial and touristy all these little, quaint London practices have become. Time was when you could ride a Routemaster just like you could the regular, modern, more swanky ones.

And so a regular No. 15 came along, about ten minutes later. Yes, it did make a diversion but got back on track again and I did reach Trafalgar Square at about 6.15 pm (my goal had been 6.00 pm). Off I went, at a brisk pace, after getting off at Charing Cross station, to take a short cut to the National Portrait Gallery—passing along the way the interesting sculpture of Oscar Wilde entitled, “Having a Conversation with Oscar Wilde”.

Newbies and Others At the National Portrait Gallery:

I had done some research before leaving Bombay to find out which were the newest portraits at the Gallery and had discovered one of Oprah Winfrey and two other women. When I arrived at the Information Counter, I discovered, to my amusement, that those had been installed in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC—not in London! Of course, I had been in the wrong website! Instead, I looked at the newest additions in the Ondatje Gallery on the ground floor. Some of the items that caught my eye on this trip, based on individuals with whom I am familiar: a color photograph of King Charles and Queen Camilla; a black and white portrait of Catherine, Princess of Wales (to mark her 40th birthday); portraits of Andy Murray (by Maggie Hambling), Peter Taschel (I had once attended a lecture he had given at NYU-London while I was teaching there on LGBTQ rights and their development in the UK); Anna Wintour (of Vogue), Harry Styles (of One Direction) and Jane Goodall (of chimpanzee conservation).

Then, I made my way up to the first floor to see the more contemporary portraits (form 2000 to the Present) as I have seen the Tudor Room several times. Here I was struck by representations in various media of Francis Bacon, Lucien Freud, Andrea Levy, Jawaharlal Nehru, his sister Vijaylaxmi Pandit, the erstwhile Royal Family at Tea at the Palace (King George VI or Bertie as he was known, his wife Queen Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, and the princesses Elizabeth--who would become Queen Elizabeth II--and her sister, Princess Margaret); Mick Jagger (by Andy Warhol); Paul McCartney; a self-portrait by Maggie Hambling (who, therefore, has two of her works in the museum); menswear designer Paul Smith (holding on to a bolt of green silk fabric that is brilliantly painted); Virginia Woolf (by her sister Vanessa Bell); Vanessa Bell (by her husband Duncan Grant) and David Hockney with his two dogs.

I loved every second of this browsing—having seen many of these memorable items before. Then, I made my way one floor up to see the Portrait Awards 2025. Unfortunately, I was not familiar with most of the subjects of these works and lost interest. Besides, I had already spent more than an hour at the Gallery and I was keen to push on towards the National Gallery next-door as it was already 7.00 pm.

Saying Hello to my Special ‘Friends’ at the National Gallery:

Trafalgar Square was bathed in that exquisite late-summer golden evening light when I emerged from the National Portrait Gallery and made my way to the National Gallery by its side entrance. Things were pretty lively on the Square, but I had little time to take it in. Fatigue and jetlag had also set in and I did not think I would last all the way to 9.00 pm when the Gallery would close. Still, as they say…the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time!

So, off I went in the lift to the second floor and then, at random, I walked through the galleries stopping of frequently en route to pause and say hullo to my special ‘friends’—the canvases for which I have special affection. I knew I could not see them all as my back had begun to feel sore and my legs were giving way. Still…I managed to make a beeline first for the Flemish galleries to see my very favorite canvases: works by Vermeer and Pieter de Hooch. In fact, my favorite painting in the entire gallery is de Hooch’s ‘Courtyard of a House in Delft’ which features a woman and a child facing the viewer with another woman at the back gazing outside. The cobbled courtyard, the brick façade of their modest Dutch home in Delft, Holland, their clothing, the mood of quiet domestic tranquility around a typical half Dutch-door strung with flowering vines and the soft light that envelopes the space, is so evocative to me of a bygone world that I often wish our own fraught lives were as calm and as gracious. I also saw at least four other works by de Hooch and I took pictures of them all as they competed for attention with the works by the more celebrated Vermeer in the same gallery.

From there, at complete random, I saw Titians and Reubens and Rembrants as well as the more famous highlights—The Wilton Diptych, The Arnolfini Marriage by Jan van Eyck, The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein, The Madonna of the Rocks by Leonardo, two incomplete canvasses by Michaelangelo and then three works by my other favorite artist at the National—the Italian Renaissance artist, Carlo Crivelli, whose work is every bit as gorgeous as his more renowned contemporary compatriots. Crivelli was banished from Florence to Venice (for espousing homosexual tendencies) and remains one of the least known members of his tribe of highly gifted artists. He has always been one of my favorites. The other beloved painting in this Gallery for me is by Rogier van der Weyden called ‘The Magdalen Reading’. It is an exquisite study of a medieval Flemish woman, seated on the ground, completely absorbed in a book and oblivious to the world around her. I even own a bookmark from the National Gallery’s gift shop (bought many years ago) that depicts this woman. I simply adore her and the artist’s rendition of her.

I realized, as I feasted my eyes on these Old Masters, that I was visiting the National Gallery for the very first time since I became an oil painter myself! I suppose it not surprising to know that I looked at the same paintings that I have seen countless times before, but for the very first time with a painter’s eye! Suddenly, I wondered how Bronzino had sketched his mythological figures or how Rembrandt had achieved his self-portraits. I was profoundly moved.

But, an hour later, as it had turned 8.00 pm, I decided to get a move on. I was concerned about how safe my neighborhood would be if I got home alone late at night. Besides, I was also really tired by this time and needed to call it a day. I used the facilities and then left the museum through the Sainsbury Wing Exit and walked along Haymarket to Piccadilly Circus, where I knew I could catch the No. 14 bus that would drop me right outside my building.

Viewing London By Night:

And so, ten minutes later, I was at Piccadilly. The lights had come on, of course, and London was illuminated in a dozen dizzying colors as neon signs twinkled by the statue of Eros. A No. 14 bus was just a few feet behind me and into it I hopped, hoping there were no changes of route or diversions.

It took me less than half an hour to get to my stop—a ride that permitted me to see the city by night. We passed Harrods, for instance, all beautifully illuminated and standing out. While on the top deck, I finished half of my almond croissant of the morning, ate a few profiteroles and washed them down with water. They would suffice as a make-shift dinner as I was still too stuffed with my substantial lunch at ‘Bill’s’.

I made a mistake, however, and entered the wrong wing of my building—no, my keys did not work, but a delivery man came through and I entered with him. It was only after I reached the third floor that I realized I was in the wrong wing—damn and blast! Naturally, I then found the right wing and the right entrance and four flights up later, I was safely back in my Air B and B. Helen, my landlady, was still up (it was just gone 9 pm) and we spent at least fifteen minutes chatting as she wanted to know all about my day. Needless to say, she was amazed by how much I had managed to cover and what a long distance I had traveled today! Yes, I was proud of myself too. But I was ready to crash and after brushing and flossing my teeth, I got into bed. As luck would have it, I did not feel sleepy at all. Instead, I edited my photographs and decided to write this blog post.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…