Second Day in Liverpool: Beatles Tour, Walker Art Gallery, Drinks at The Cavern Club

 Second Day in Liverpool: Beatles Tour, Walker Art Gallery, Drinks at The Cavern Club

Liverpool

Wednesday, May 18, 2022

    Our second full day in Liverpool was just as fruitful as our first--and just as much fun! On the agenda were two items: The Beatles Tour and an exploration of the Walker Art Gallery. When we found ourselves with time to throw in a visit for drinks at the one and only Cavern Club on Matthew Street where The Beatles had their start (not included on the tour), it was a delightful and unforeseen bonus!

Getting Set for a Day of Sight-seeing:

    We awoke at our leisure today as there was, fortunately, no early train to catch. After a shower in our hotel room (the Ibis on the Albert Dock waterfront), we munched our chicken sandwiches (purchased clairvoyantly at Tesco's last night), brewed a cup of decaff coffee in our room, checked out of our hotel, stashed our bags in the storage room, and left to greet the day. Glorious sunshine flooded Liverpool this morning and we knew we had a great day in store.

The Beatles Tour:

    Right across the street from our hotel was the starting point for the Hop On, Hop Off bus that would take us on the Beatles Tour. We had tickets for the 10.30 am tour and when we arrived there at a little before 10.00am, we were amazed to find that 50% of the seats on the upper deck were taken already. The bus was full of baby boomers, everyone being 60 plus years of age. I guess although we all know that The Beatles are timeless and now have the third generation of fans, it is folks our age who are brimming with nostalgia when it comes to associating our whole lives with The Beatles. Most of the visitors were from the USA and Canada with a few from the UK. By the time the bus left at 10.30 am, the upper deck was full and there were even a few people downstairs. 

    The Beatles Tour does go quite rapidly through the city--it is not really a City Tour, but it does run past Matthew Street on which the famous Cavern Club is located: the one that gave The Beatles their start in the UK. However, it main purpose is to take visitors way out of the city and into the suburbs because that is actually where the Fab Four lived in their childhood and youth and the point of this tour was to see those homes and the places that feature in their songs because they featured in their life stories too. Throughout the tour, our guide Tony kept up a running commentary. As these Northerners have a strong Scouser accent, I have to say that I could not quite understand much of what he said. Also, they talk really fast as they try to cram so much into a single sentence before the bus moves away. This makes it particularly difficult for me to follow (although Llew fares much better than I do with accents). 

    The bus made two scheduled stops--one at Penny Lane where we could all actually get out and take pictures by the street sign posts and one at Strawberry Fields. The original sign post on Penny Lane, which used to be signed by every Beatles Fan when they arrived in Liverpool and which is signed by Paul McCartney too, is preserved under perspex as there is every reason to believe it will be stolen. Every aspect of Beatles' memorabilia has been stolen and there is scarcely anything original to be found. We took a picture of the original sign too--in a poor state of repair, I have to say, but still priceless.

    The bus sailed slowly down Penny Lane (with the song Penny Lane playing on the PA system to really evoke a sense of nostalgia in us all) and arrived at the traffic circle that has been immortalized in music. The Barber Shop at the corner still stands and evokes the lyrics with which the song begins:

Penny Lane, there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go

Stop and say, "Hello" ...

Also at the corner of the circle, the bank still stands...another reference to it is available in the song:

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
And little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a Mac in the pouring rain

Very strange

    In the circle today, around which the bus curves, is a bistro that calls itself The Sergeant Pepper Bistro (a reference, of course, to the album in which the Penny Lane single was released). In fact, this circle was where Lennon and McCartney used to stand and wait for their school bus as kids--in doing so, they used to see all these strange, down-home characters whose memory they incorporated into their song. It was in this traffic circle that they would see the nurse selling poppies as a fund-raiser from a tray in the days leading up to Remembrance Day (November 11):

Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play

She is anyway

    The only character from the song who is no longer in evidence at the Penny Lane traffic circle today is the fireman. If there was a fire station at this point, it has long since disappeared:

Penny Lane, there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen
He likes to keep his fire engine clean

It's a clean machine

      There is a further reference in the song to all three characters in these lines:

Penny Lane, the barber shaves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then, the fireman rushes in from the pouring rain
Very strange

    Indeed, as we were told snippets of the lives of these singers and the people who populated their childhood, we kept listening to the song: 

Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back....

   I was tickled to see a public bus whose destination had Penny lane written on it! We were fortunate indeed to have blue skies as our bus sailed under the suburban skies of Liverpool that brought us to our next scheduled stop on the bus--Strawberry Fields. This site, of course, has been immortalized in the Beatles' song, "Strawberry Fields Forever", the lyrics of which run, as follows:

Let me take you down
'Cause I'm going to strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever

    Tony, our guide explained that Strawberry Fields was the venue of a girl's orphanage that used to be run by the Salvation Army in Liverpool. John was always fascinated by the place which he could see from his bedroom window, just a block away. Although he had no personal associations with the place, it reminded him of his own sad childhood, separated from his own Mum and Dad and raised by an Aunt (Mimi). Every year, in the summer, there was a large fair that John used to enjoy going to with his Aunt--it was held in the nearby Caldershot Park which we also passed.

    Today, there is only the red-pink painted wrought-iron gates that proclaim the site of the Strawberry Fields orphanage. It is, in fact, a restaurant, today as the wild vegetation has been cleared up to create it. When I visited the place, a few years ago, there was nothing on the property. Today, Beatles' fans visit the site to pose by the gates--and that was what we did.

    After this stop, we were brought to the home of John Lennon on Menlove Avenue in the suburb of Woolton. After John died, his widow, the Japanese singer Yoko Ono bought the property and promptly donated it to the National Trust which also acquired Paul McCartney's home at Forthlin Street, not too far away. This gave Tony, our guide, the chance to talk to us in detail about the childhood of these two singers. Apparently, Lennon had a sad childhood. His mother Linda was left on her own with John and her two other children while her husband went out to sea. This caused her to take up with a boyfriend. When her husband returned, he called to take John out to Blackpool for the day and it was only because Linda's sister, Mimi, John's aunt, suspected something odd that she went to the port to find that John's father had purchased two one-way tickets to New Zealand with the aim of whisking his son away there. It was only Mimi's efforts that prevented this from happening. 

    Now, I have to say, that I do not know anything about the veracity of this story and I know, from experience, that one needs to take a lot of what these tour guides say with a bagful of salt! So I offer this story with reservations. However, what the guide also told us was that Lennon grew up very comfortably with his Aunt Mimi (who adopted him, in a sense, as his mother would not be able to give him a good life) and bought him his first guitar with the warning that although he could learn to play it and make music, he was unlikely to make a living out of it! John always looked upon her as his mother and bought her a home, as a gratitude gift, as soon as he could afford it.

    Anyway, today, the National Trust maintains both homes and has decorated them in a 1950's style to evoke the era in which the two premier Beatles grew up. To enter the house, you need to book another (very expensive tour)--it was almost 30 pounds each for the tour that runs twice a day. Unless you are a real die-hard Beatles' fan, I doubt you would actually receive your money's worth. That said, both tours for the next day were full and Llew and I could not get tickets.

    The bus then sallied forth towards Forthlin Street where Paul McCartney grew up. On a previous visit, my bus had actually stopped right outside the house and I was able to take pictures at the door. However, on this trip, our bus stopped at the end of the lane and the guide merely pointed out the house. It was too far away and made no sense to me. Tony said that the neighbors have begun to object to tour buses running by and ruining their privacy. 

    So that was it really. That was the Beatles tour. On the long way back, Tony entertained us with more Beatles stories and finished off with inviting us to sing the last bits of  "Hey Jude" as we waved our hands all over. So what did I think of the tour? It was fun and, if you do not have a car in Liverpool, it is the only way you can see the homes of the Beatles. Brief references were made to the homes of the other two, Ringo Staar and George Harrison--they also grew up in the Liverpool suburbs, but their homes are not sites of musical pilgrimage today. There were also references to Brian Epstein who made The Beatles what they became. 

    We were returned to Albert Dock on the last stop of our tour and Llew and I decided immediately to hop on to the City Tour (on the next bus) and get off at Museum Quarter as they next item on our agenda was the Walker Art Gallery. I knew that this gallery had a wide selection of works by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood whose work I truly admire--and I was very keen to spend a lot of time there. So, that was what we did.

At the Walker Art Gallery--but first a detour to St. George Hall:

    I also knew that St. George Hall, which is right opposite the Walker Gallery, is worth visiting. On a previous visit to Liverpool, I had been privileged to see the inside of it. It is quite spectacular indeed, the floor and walls covered with 19th century tiles made in the Minton Ceramics factory in nearby Stoke-on-Trent. Hence, I suggested to Llew that we try to go there. 

    By this point, I was really hungry and badly needed some refreshment,. it was, after all, about 1.00 pm. When we skirted the stunning Neo-Classical exterior of St. George's Hall to try to find the door leading to it, we discovered that only the ground floor was open, the staggeringly gorgeous Main Hall was not--it was, in fact, being refurbished and, therefore, closed to everyone but workmen. However, we did find a lovely cafe called the HomeBaked Cafe in the basement nearby and it was the perfect place to get a coffee and a hot chocolate (for me) and some wonderful bacon and cheese rolls that did the trick. Fueled with our snack, we could devote unstinting time to the art gallery--and that was what we did.

    The Walker Art Gallery stands in another lovely Neo-Classical building. It has a small permanent collection which is open to the public for free.  Sadly, the Tudor section with its Renaissance paintings was closed to the public as the Gallery has a special exhibition on 'The Tudors' opening in a few days. What we could see, however, was absolutely wonderful as the Pre-Raphaelite section, the Victorian section and then the Modern section was certainly worth seeing.

    We lingered for a very long time over these galleries and took in the wonders of the Pre-Raphaelites of which a wide number are represented. I saw worked by Arthur Hughes, William Holman Hunt, Everett Millais and Dante Gabriel Rosetti--the founders of the movement. Later, they were joined by William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones  (alumni of Exeter College, Oxford). These painters focussed on narrative paintings that told a story, either from mythology or the Bible. I took many pictures, of course. In the Victorian section, I was especially struck by the work of Lord Leighton whose home I have visited in London. He has huge canvases that dominate the space and take the viewer directly into his world of beautiful damsels and Greek myths. 

    I was also happy to find the work of L.S. Lowry, the Northern British painter of industrial life, who made human stick figures a distinctive part of his work. I have only previously found his work in pictures--with one or two of them in the Tate in London.  And so, it was with pleasure that I looked at his work and recognized the reason for his popularity. There is nothing puzzling or intellectual about Lowry's work--he is indeed a realistic artist in a childish vein. Other Modern works that I found really interesting were by Duncan Grant (of whose work I saw a lot at Charleston Farmhouse--this painting was of the farm), Roger Fry (another member of the Bloomsbury School) and the husband-wife team of Stanhope Alexander Forbes and his wife, Elizabeth (to which I was also introduced for the first time), They do beautifully appealing work that evokes a lost generation. I was thoroughly charmed by it.

Off to Relax at The Cavern Club:

    With our visit to the Walker Art Gallery done, we used our map to walk about twenty minutes to our next port of call--The Cavern Club. We had about two hours to kill before we needed to board our 7.00 pm train back to London. What better way to spend them than to listen to the music of The Beatles in the very place where they became known to the world? 

    On the way, at St. John's Square, a busy shopping area, I stopped inside a really large Boots to buy my stock of nail polish. And indeed stock up I did. Rimmel is a favorite as I love its brush--not to mention its lovely shades. 

    Back on the streets, we found Matthew Street and went down it to find The Cavern Club in a Hidden bend of the lane. When we discovered that there was a cover charge of just 5 pounds to get inside, stay as long as we wanted with drinks, dancing and live music, that's where we decided to go. 

    We had the best time for the next hour or so as we toured the lovely club--justifiably called a cavern as you had to go down several flights of stairs to get to the basement. The place is filled with musical memorabilia of various kinds--from signed photographs to signed guitars and any number of souvenirs that visitors can buy for a really great way to remember their times in this sentimental space dripping with nostalgia.  The average age of the clientele was 65 and everyone was sipping, swaying, rocking. A singer was in attendance and he kept the crowd grooving mightily with his rendition of superb songs from the 60s--not just Beatles' numbers but the Merseybeat in general. It was all quite thrilling indeed and Llew and I had the best time with our own drinks--a Cabernet for Llew and a swift half of Guinness for me.                      

    By the time we walked out, we had just enough time to find our hotel (using the map), to pick up our bags and find a bus from the nearby bus station that took us back to the Lime Street Station. '

 Early Dinner at Wetherspoon's:

    It was at Lime Street Station that we discovered we had more than an hour to kill before boarding out train. And so off we went in search of a sit-down dinner. Wetherspoon's had a pub at the station itself--a gigantic place with a warren of rooms and when we found a Manager's Special for 4.99 pounds, we jumped on it. It turned out to be a double cheese burger with chips and onion rings--so as you can well imagine, we put half of it into carry-away bags as I felt pretty sure we'd be hungry when we reached London.

    So, we truly enjoyed our burgers which were a far cry better than the one I'd had with Roz at the Wetherspoon's in London, about a week ago. These were juicy and meaty and flavorful, the chips were really filling and the onion rings crispy and delicious. We washed these down with more red wine and Guinness.

    And then it was time to board our train that left bang on time, speeded through the lush green countryside of the Wirral and brought us to Euston station exactly at 9.00 pm. The 205 bus then brought us directly outside our building in Paddington. Our friend Bande had left for his holiday and we had his flat entirely to ourselves for the next several days. It will make the perfect base from which to explore the rest of the city. I had a long catch-up call on the phone with my friend Bina whom I hope to see before I leave. 

    At just past 11.00 pm--now really hungry, as I had expected, Llew and I finished our lovely burgers that we heated in the microwave as Llew watched the last of the Football match in which the German team won. It was with much satisfaction that we pulled the curtain down on another lovely day in the UK.  

    Until tomorrow...cheerio.  

      

   

   

 

First Day in Liverpool: Exploring Albert Dock, Historical Museums and taking the City Explorer Bus Route

First Day in Liverpool: Exploring Albert Dock, Historical Museums and taking the City Explorer Bus Route

Tuesday, May 17, 2022

    We were very excited to arrive in Liverpool today. As it was Llew's first time in the city, it was even more exciting. As for me, this visit was my fourth: I had come here, years ago, to give a paper at a conference at John Moores University. The second time, I had brought my NYU students as Leader of the Dean's Circle on an overnight field-trip through Liverpool. The third time occurred when I was teaching in London and I had brought students to see the city. Clearly, I could play tour guide quite efficiently. 

Train Journey to Liverpool and Arrival at Our Hotel:

    We had another early start today as our train from Euston Station in London left for Liverpool at 7.30 am. We did the exact same thing we had done yesterday: we picked up breakfast pastries (croissants) from Sainsbury, together with yogurt and decaff coffee from Delice de France. Armed with these goodies, we boarded our high-speed train to Liverpool that departed bang on schedule. I could not believe that we would be reaching Liverpool in just over two hours.

    Once at Liverpool Lime Street Staton, we looked for the Tourist Information kiosk and actually found it. The man gave us maps and directed us to our hotel. He told us to take the Tube from just downstairs to St. James' Street and there our hotel would be. So indeed, that was what we did. In no time at all, we were at St. James' Street, but our hotel, the Ibis, turned out to be a good fifteen walk away as it was at the very end of Wapping Dock. Still, in a day or two, we realized that it was, in fact, very conveniently located for  the Hop On, Hop Off bus that we used for all our sightseeing.

Exploring Albert Dock:

    So as soon as we checked into our hotel, we stashed our bags in the storage area as check-in was only at 3.00 pm--and off we went. We crossed the street to get to Albert Dock and since this is a big attraction in the city, we started our exploration right there.    

    Albert Dock, named, of course, after Prince Albert, was a thriving port throughout the 18th and 19th centuries and remained busy and productive right up to the mid-20th century. The rise of air traffic and trade put paid to the vast amount of trade that was carried through this port through the Mersey River which  runs alongside the city. The history of this port is also inevitably linked with colonialism and slavery and indeed, Liverpool was the largest port for the entry of slaves from Africa to Britain and then out from Britain to North and South America (mainly Brazil). Indeed, Brazil was the last country to abolish slavery in 1889. 

    Albert Dock can boast the largest number of Grade I listed buildings in the world and they are in a uniform terracotta color and sport columned arcades right through them. We walked through them to take in the variety of restaurant and souvenir shops in this area before we came upon the Tate Museum Liverpool and decided to see it. The Tate has a permanent collection of Modern Art and we were happy to see examples of the work of Matisse, Picasso, Brancussi, Mondrian, Lichtenstein and El Anatsui among the main works. After a quick look around, we moved on.

    This time, out on the waterfront, we came upon the Merseyside Maritime Museum. This place has a wonderful Slavery Museum which gives sad facts and horrifying figures about the amount of slave trade that was carried out here. As Llew said, it was difficult to read all the facts and not be horrified by the abuse of human rights that was rampant in those terrible times. We went through all exhibits associated with the Middle Passage and another room that talked about the legacy of slavery with reference to the current situation regarding the position of Black people in Western society and the results of the Black Lives Matter Movement. With a great deal of remnant objects reminding us of those times, it really does take a very stern constitution to be able to view these exhibits without being emotionally affected by them.

    The lower floor took us down to an exhibition on the Titanic, the most famous passenger liner in the world. Although the Titanic did not sail through Liverpool, the White Star Company that owned the liner had its headquarters in Liverpool as it evident in the building that stands right on the water--known colloquially and jocularly as the "streaky bacon" building because it is designed in stripes of red and white. Of course, this exhibition too is a real tear-jerker and there is scarcely a dry eye in the room as people go through the exhibits that outline the manner in which it reached its end and sank in two pieces once it hit an iceberg. As someone who has taught a course (to the NYU Dean's Circle) on the Titanic, I was fully conversant with the facts...but it was still difficult to stay emotionally detached on re-discovering the facts. 

    One floor below was another exhibition on the sinking of the Lusitania during World War II when the British ship was torpedoed by the Germans killing several American crewmen on board. Llew and I had to hurry through this floor as we had a lot to do and were feeling hungry too.

Lunch at Albert Dock from a Greek Food Truck:

    Seeking sustenance in one of the few food trucks at Albert Dock, we found a meal at So Greek Full--a truck that sold Greek food. We settled for a Vegan Chicken Souvlaki that came with chips, salad and an overfilled pita. It was really good that we had decided to share one with an Orangina to drink as one each would have been impossible to finish. We used restrooms in the museum before we left to return to the explorer bus stops to find out about buying tickets for the sightseeing tours.

On the City Explorer Bus Route:

    Once at the spot where the Red Hop On, Hop Off bus began its route, we bought tickets for the Combination tours--the City Sight-seeing tour and the Beatles Tour. (14 pounds for the combination ticket). These tickets were valid for two days. We decided, therefore, to do the City sightseeing immediately and keep the longer Beatles tour for tomorrow. And so that was what we did. We made one complete loop around the city and became introduced to its maritime, cultural and sports history. In fact, Liverpool had just beaten Chelsea in the FA Cup Finals and the city was agog with the results. We toured the Three Graces (three 19th century buildings on the waterfront), saw the sculpture of the Beatles that looks out on the Mersey and was installed in 2015, entered the city center to see the Cavern Quarter which is where all the clubs are located including the famous Cavern Club where The Beatles got their start. We then reached the Museum Quarter where all the sturdy Neo-Classical buildings are located: the George Building, the World Museum, the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool Lime Street Train Station (at which we had entered from London).  These gave us an idea of the glory of this city as a prosperous merchant marine power. Next, we arrived at a part of the city that is known for its two grand Cathedrals--the Metropolitan Christ the King Catholic Cathedral built by a Protestant and the Anglican Cathedral built by a Catholic (Sir Giles Gilbert Scott).  Back at the terminus, we decided to stay on the bus until it made another loop. This time, we would get off at Hope Street, we decided, so that we could cover the two Cathedrals.

Visiting Liverpool's Two Cathedrals:

    The bus put us down on the corner of Hope Street, the only street in the world that can boast two cathedrals, one at each end. We walked first to the Catholic Cathedral as it was closer to us and climbed up the stairs to the very modern church that resembles a crown. It is a tall, concrete structure that is enlivened by the use of stained glass--over 250,000 pieces were used in the making of the coronet at the very top. We made a prayerful visit inside and found that the altar was covering by scaffolding--apparently some repair work is in progress. Our visit was not long as we discovered that the crypt that was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens (yes, the designer of New Delhi) could not be visited until tomorrow and that there was an entry fee of 5 pounds to get down to what is basically a museum and a treasury of sorts.

    We moved on then to the other end of Hope Street to visit the Anglican Cathedral. In doing so, we passed by the Philharmonic Dining Rooms and the Philharmonic Pub (where I have been before) which are the only Grade I listed washrooms in the world. Hence, women are actually allowed into the Men's toilets. We decided to finish visiting the Cathedral and then return here for a drink.

    Liverpool's Anglican Cathedral is far more impressive and imposing than its Catholic counterpart. For one thing, it is simply towering. It is the third-largest Cathedral in the world, is built in Gothic style, has the largest organ in the world and the loudest bells. We made our way to the altar while feeling deeply humbled by the height of the nave. Though austere in its decor, the altar is brass burnished and quite striking indeed. After a few moments spent in silent prayer, we walked towards the altar in order to admire the interior features of this ecclesiastical space when we realized that choral evensong would soon be beginning. Hence, we returned to our seats in the pew and listened to the awesome choir that sounded really glorious as their voices reached the roof. Indeed, it was a wonderfully spiritual experience and we were glad we took the time and trouble to seek out these spaces.

A Drink and Some Footrest at the Philharmonic Pub:

    A short walk back as we retraced our steps to Hope Street took us to the Philharmonic Pub where I had a glass of bubbly--the perfect pick-me-up at the end of a long and very tiring day. Llew opted for a glass of red wine and as we were both starving by this time, we decided to get some pub grub--a serving of onion rings and a serving of garlic bread with cheese. When our drinks and eats were brought to the table, we made friends with two guys sitting alongside us and soon we were deeply in chatter with them.

    The Philharmonic Pub is just gorgeous. It is ornately decorated in the over-the-top manner of its Victorian day when excess was the name of the game. Beautifully etched windows, lots of stained glass, Tiffany-style lamps with colored glass shades, elaborately designed fireplaces and mantlepieces, squooshy leather sofas, added to the ambience of a very comfortable place in which to relax at the end of the day. We listened to some lovely oldies on the radio and then, a whole hour or more later, decided to get going.

Sandwich Dinner at our Hotel:

    We had to find our way back to the hotel, however, so we were grateful for our map.  Using, it, we walked for another 25 minutes until we arrived at the waterfront and spied our hotel, not far away. But as we were passing a Tesco and had no intentions of getting out, once we reached our room,  we picked up sandwiches and soft drinks and returned to our hotel.

    Once indoors, we lost no time getting ourselves comfortable. With the TV on and some laughs to be had with Hyacinth Bucket of Keeping Up Appearances fame, we thought it was time to eat and get ourselves ready for bed after what had been another exhausting, but very fulfilling, day.

    Until tomorrow...cheerio.       

              

 

Morse-ing Around Oxford

Saturday, June 29, 2009
Oxford

I wasn’t making too much progress with Harry Potter, so I was pleased to wake up at 7.00 and be able to read the novel for an hour. I thought breakfast would be at 8 am as usual but when I went downstairs to wash and dress, I found everything so quiet and there wasn’t the delicious aroma of toast that has woken me up on recent mornings. Because no one seemed to be stirring, I thought it was a great time to have a shower and that I did—and how much I enjoyed it!

Back in my room (which I just realized is right above the car port in a sort of addition to this rambling stone house), I checked the Breakfast Timings as printed in my room and realized that on Saturdays, breakfast is served at 8. 30 am. That left me ample time to get dressed and start working on my lecture on ‘Post-Colonial South Asian Literature from Great Britain’, which I have been invited to deliver at Exeter College, Oxford, on July 22. I worked very steadily and when I heard voices coming from the dining room, which is not too far from my room, I joined my three fellow-lodgers who were already at the table and spent the next 45 minutes eating a large breakfast—cereal with milk, toast with butter, orange juice and coffee. I knew I would not have much time for a big lunch as I had the ‘Inspector Morse Tour’ to take at 1. 30, so I decided to have a breakfast large enough to keep me going until at least teatime.

I spent the next couple of hours working steadily on my lecture and made good headway though I was rather disappointed that my inability to connect to the wireless internet in this house in North Oxford makes it impossible for me to back check facts when I need to footnote my lecture. However, I also enjoyed sitting in my room in this house in North Oxford and working. I thought our home in Southport, Connecticut, was quiet on weekend mornings and then I started to stay in the loft in Farringdon in London—and boy, is that quiet! And now here I am on Norham Road off Banbury Road in Oxford where the silence is so complete. There was not even a bird twittering in the trees and it wasn't until noon that the cobalt blue door of the house on the opposite side of the street opened and the family went out for a spin in their silver grey car. I am finally staying in a place in which I can actually feel a sense of community with my surroundings—and I am really enjoying it!

Off to Discover Morse’s Oxford:
When I had mentioned to my fellow lodgers that I was out today to see ‘Inspector Morse’s Oxford’, the Japanese chap had remarked, rather cleverly, that perhaps this would mean a pub crawl because all Morse does is drink in Oxford’s various pubs! Well, he was not far from the truth!

At 12 noon, I set out first to St. Antony’s College to find out if by any chance I had dropped my credit card there when I was over yesterday—as I am missing it! No such luck! So I walked briskly towards St. Giles, all the time praying that it would have been found in Blackwell’s coffee shop (Café Nero) where I had met Philip Imray for a coffee and a chat yesterday. En route, I saw a number of books on Morse and Oxford and thought that I should buy one of them as I need to find out more about the Oxford backdrop of the series.

Upstairs, I could have kissed the waitress who served me yesterday. Yes, she had found my credit card, which had fallen out of the pocket of my jeans as I was leaving and had shrugged into my hoodie. What luck someone had found it and just put it back on the table and hadn’t made off with it, as I am pretty sure would have happened in the States. That weight off my mind, I called Llew to inform him that my card had been found as he was very upset yesterday on the phone when I told him that I had misplaced it.

Crossing the street, I arrived at the Oxford Information Center where I saw a large crowd gathered for the start of the tour. I was shocked at the large numbers of people who wished to follow in the footsteps of dear Inspector Morse. Amazing how many people love the series and have made it their business to find out more about it. The crowd, comprising mainly English people, though there was a fair sprinkling of Americans, was then divided into three smaller groups and I chose to attach myself to a rather nice-looking older man with a booming voice and a twinkle in his eye called Alistair Lack dressed in a rather dapper beige linen suit. The other two group leaders were women. I hoped and I prayed that he would be better than the one who gave the 'Harry Potter Tour' yesterday which had been a huge disaster for me.

Well, I sure lucked out today! Let me tell you that Alistair Lack was just wonderful and the tour was splendid. There was so much I learned about the series—both the book series and the TV series. In addition, I learned a great deal about the creator of the character of Inspector Morse, Colin Dexter (who also lives in North Oxford, not too far from where I currently live), about the late John Thaw (who lovably played Inspector Morse in the TV series), about Kevin Whatley who played his side kick Sergeant Lewis, about Julian Mitchell who wrote the screenplays, about the late Academy-award winning Anthony Mingella who produced the earlier shows (until Kenny McBain took over) and about Barrington Phelong (whose music composition, I have always thought, simply makes the series). I learned that the crew filmed 33 episodes that were filmed and viewed over 13 years--an average of 3 shows a year. The show attracted 30 million viewers at its first screening and, 13 years later, had the exact same number watch the final episode--this meant that one in five people in Great Britain watched the episodes as they aired!

Not only had Lack read all the books, he had watched all the episodes and he had actually met Colin Dexter several times as well as Kevin Whatley. He brought all these anecdotes into his commentary which was extremely interesting and very succinctly delivered, interspersed as it was with jokes and that typical wry brand of British humor (which I know I will sorely miss when I return to the States). Because Lack is an Oxonian himself (he graduated from University College where he had read History eventually becoming a History teacher at the Scindia School in Gwalior, India, for a short while before joining the BBC in Delhi), he also told us a great deal about the history of the colleges and the university and about the educational system that prevails in this hallowed institution. But everywhere he stopped he brought his comments back to Inspector Morse. He led us through the Town versus Gown conflicts that have persisted for centuries and showed how they were worked into the plots and the scripts. He took us to hardware stores and clothiers from The High and Turl Street to the Broad and everywhere he brought Morse and his romantic interests into his own script.

And yes, he did talk about all the pubs that Morse frequents in the series—from The Bear on tiny medieval Magpie Lane to the rather touristy Trout Inn in Wolvercote from The Booksbinder’s Arms in Jericho (which he recommended highly) and which he said is one of his own favorite Oxford pubs to the White Horse right next door to Blackwell’s. He also talked about the cinematic role played by Morse’s pub-crawling, which I thought was rather interesting. Every time the director wanted a quiet bit in the plot, he took Morse to a pub. Thus, scenes of murder and mayhem are followed by a swift pint of finest ale. Having had a Pimm’s myself at The Trout with my friend Annalisa, a few years ago, I can say that there is nothing more enjoyable than a drink overlooking the river as the sun sinks low in the west on a summer’s evening and the muffled roar of the weir reaches one’s ears. I am hoping I will have a chance to do the walk along the banks of the Isis again to Godstow Lock and on to Wolvercote to The Trout before I leave from here.

Throughout the tour, we were kept enthralled and engaged. The only downside (and that is not something for which we can blame either the guide or the Oxford Information Center), was that we were unable to enter any of the colleges as they were all closed as it is the very last day of the academic year. Students are leaving, their bag and baggage littered all over the quads as they move out. The last few remaining ones who were still taking the last final exams today could be seen walking or cycling along in their examination gear (as Oxford has a strict dress code for exam days—black gowns and mortar board caps with a red carnation pierced into the button holes of both males and females alike). He particularly wanted to take us to the quad of Exeter College where Morse actually has a heart attack and dies in the last episode, The Remorseless Day. Since I know the quad of Exeter College well (having spent endless hours sprawled on its green lawn in my youth), I was sorry that we were unable to enter it or indeed to see the beautiful chapel with its Edward Burne-Jones tapestry on The Adoration of the Magi and the lovely medieval mosaics that glint and shine in candlelight. Still (once I get my ID card, hopefully on Monday morning), I can enter any of the colleges and their libraries—which I hope I will still find the time to do.

I was also pleased to see that the rooftop of the Margary Quadrangle where my own room was located and which faces The Broad has been adorned by one of Anthony Gormley’s nude males—these look very similar to the casts of his own body that I had seen on Crosby Beach near Liverpool and the three male nude figures that adorn the lawn in my friend Loulou’s farmhouse home in Suffolk—only she had told me that though they looked like Gormley’s work, they were not.

The Tour ended in two hours, i.e. at 3. 30 pm. It is certainly one of the highlights of my year here in the UK and I do so wish that Llew was with me as I am sure he would have loved it as much as I did as we have watched all the Morse TV episodes together over the years and he remembers the plots much more than I do. I guess I am so focused on the locations, the music and the interaction between Morse and Lewis, not to mention the brilliant acting and directing, that the plots are of the least interest to me, really. But, I guess I can convey to Llew a great deal of what I learned this afternoon. Though it was a very warm afternoon, I did not mind the heat or the endless standing (we did not get a chance to sit anywhere) because the material was so absorbing.

The Rest of my Evening:
I then took a bus to Headington from Carfax as I wanted to check out some of the thrift shops there; but this took me less than an hour. I did not find anything except for some cold cuts (roast beef) at Waitrose, which I brought home to make myself a sandwich dinner with a croissant (which I had put aside at breakfast).

Once I got off the bus on The High, I walked quickly towards Blackwell’s to buy myself a copy of The Oxford of Inspector Morse by Bill Leonard, a hardbound book that was being offered at a 50% discount. I intend to use it as a companion piece when I watch the series again—as I had bought the whole lot at Christmastime and had sent them back with Llew. I look forward very much to the pleasure of seeing them all again on the new large screen TV that we intend to buy as soon as I reach Connecticut

Evensong at Christ Church Cathedral:
Left with just enough time to walk briskly to Christ Church College, I was let in easily when I said I wanted to attend Evensong in the Cathedral. I found myself a seat right near the choir and looked forward to a lovely one-hour long service. The Evensong I had attended at King’s College in Cambridge is another one of the highlights of my year—funny how I am now enumerating all the highlights as my year is coming to a close.

The service was as solemn and uplifting as I had imagined, though I have to say that the Cambridge one was more atmospheric because it was conducted in candle light which lent a golden glow to the plain gray granite walls of the towering nave of the chapel.
Just as the service ended and we made our way out of the Cathedral, it started to rain—great large drops filtered through the bright sunshine! It was so odd! We sheltered in the porch near the Porter’s Lodge for a good long time until the worst of the shower had passed; but all the way back home to Norham Road, I was dogged by spells of intermittently heavy and light rain that soaked me pretty thoroughly before I reached my front door.

Settling down for the evening, I changed out of my clothes, and then fixed myself a roast beef sandwich dinner and a pot of lovely tea with lemon—I drank two steaming cups. I ate my dinner while watching a British TV channel that offered old reruns of game shows—I saw something called Mr. and Mrs. followed by Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (British version) before a new TV comedy called Mumbai Calling starring Sanjeev Bhaskar (husband of Meera Syall) came on. I was keen to see it because of my own Bombay connections and because I had heard about it a few weeks ago on BBC’s Breakfast Show when the stars of the show were interviewed. As it turned out, I found it terribly lame and not even remotely funny.

I have to say that I am rather enjoying my summer days here in Oxford and am very glad that I have returned to this most beloved of cities. As a student I had stayed in Exeter College, which at that stage in my life was such a novel experience. Now that I am in, let us say my mature years, it feels great to be based in North Oxford where most of Oxford’s dons have homes. These are solid Victorian stone affairs with beautiful high steps leading to wooden front doors. The driveways are pebbly paths with pale pink roses spilling over stone walls and lavender borders fragrant with blooms that lend a purple tinge to the pavements. The occasional car drives lazily past and often I see couples stroll by, hand in had, dressed in formal evening clothing. This being the last week of classes, there have been parties and formal dos galore, followed by fireworks at night that I can hear in the distance. Students are out in their formal best creating the sort of memories that will stay with them for the rest of their lives even if they never see each other again.

Though I am a mere observer of the life I see around me, I feel like something of an intruder in the lives of these young folks. I walk along these honey toned streets thinking constantly of the scenes from Brideshead Revisited, that great great Oxford novel that so epitomized and romanticized for me the undergraduate life of this university town and I wonder how many of the beautiful students I see around me will carry forever in their hearts and minds the indelible scenes that Evelyn Waugh’s novel and Colin Dexter’s stories created in my own mind and heart to dwell there forever.

A Day With Friends in the Suffolk Countryside

Thursday, June 18, 2009
Iken, Suffolk

I set my alarm for 7.00 this morning as I couldn't risk waking up too late. I had a 9. 38 am train to catch from Liverpool Street Station and not being familiar with this station, I wanted to give myself ample time to get there by bus and pick up my train ticket that I had booked on the phone two days ago (20 pounds round trip). I was excited as I had been invited to spend the day in the countryside with my friends Paul and Loulou (in whose London loft I am currently residing) who farm a vast land holding near the Alde River on the East Anglian coast.

The train journey was lovely. I read a copy en route of The English Home magazine (the Christmas 2008 issue, if you can believe it!) but once the city landmarks disappeared behind us, I abandoned it and enjoyed the sight of the countryside spread out under a Constable sky. Big fluffy clouds smeared the bluest skies but the sun shone full and golden upon the passing fields. Loulou was awaiting my arrival at Wickham Market station (a journey of exactly 2 hours) in her spiffy grey Mercedes sport car and off we went.

The Church of St. Botolph's:
Our first stop was at the Norman church of St. Botolph's where Loulou happens to play the voluntary role of Warden. She had a minute's errand to run there which left me enough time to survey this place of pilgrimage. Not only is the church picture-perfect (it combines a thatched roof, a square Norman tower and a more modern portion in the same building--the first time ever I have seen a church with a thatched roof!) and has some interesting interior features such as a timbered roof and a medieval marble font. It also has part of a Saxon cross preserved inside. Services are still held here regularly and the place reminded me very much of an episode in Midsomer Murders entitled The Bell Ringers. Up in the loft, I could see the ropes from which the bell-ringers actually hang as they ring the bells--the ones in this church are very valuable as they pre-date the Reformation.

Back in the car with Loulou behind the wheel, I took in the simple rural pleasures of the Suffolk countryside. Mile after mile of cultivated farmland passed us by along the narrowest ribbons of road--most untarred and mostly sandy. Having farmed in these pastoral environs for over twenty years, Loulou is familiar with the crops grown on this soil--barley and rye and potatoes--and she identified them individually. Tiny villages tucked away in the golden waving fields enchanted me, some sporting the famous Suffolk pink on their walls (which Loulou informed me were once created by diluting paint pigment with pig's blood!)--Ah the strange old ways of rural folk!

Stanny House Farm:
In a short while, we arrived at Stanny House Farm, the country estate owned by my friends, a sprawling parcel of Suffolk countryside that left me gasping. Loulou did the wise thing and gave me the grand tour in stages--starting with her gardens (which I was most keen to see for she is a keen gardener). Our first stop was her vegetable garden, a neatly designed space enclosed within red brick walls and featuring a variety of lettuces, broad beans, tomatoes, herbs, Swiss chard, etc. all of which she snipped quite handily and threw into her trug as she went along in order to concoct a salad for our lunch. For it was nearly lunch time and Paul had left his office (all of twenty steps away!) to come and join us in the lovely conservatory where we sat down to eat.

The meal was simple but so delicious--I mean how can you go wrong with home grown produce picked fresh off their stalks, right? The addition of tuna and some hard boiled eggs and crisp asparagus and a balsamic vinaigrette that I whisked up, meant that we had ourselves a Salade Nicoise served with multi-grain bread and butter and a selection of cheeses for afters. Dipper, their ageing bitch, joined us at the table and gratefully received the tidbits that Paul passed her. It was the very essence of English country life and I felt as if I had strayed into one of the features in the Homes and Garden magazines I read. How delighted I was to be a guest at this charming table.

Lunch done, Loulou took me for another walk--this time around her flower gardens. I climbed the picturesque red brick Millennium Wall along the stairs and over the Rockery that she has created from old salvagaed stone and filled with rare succulents. Indeed her perennial beds delighted me and before long, we were taking a longer tour to the outhouses and thatched-roof barns that comprise the property, converted into office space, entertainment space, etc. I met Denny, the gardener, who works hard with Loulou and Paul to keep this massive property in shape just as earlier I had met Linda, the housekeeper who has worked on the farm for over twenty years. During our tour, Loulou provided so much information about their collection of art works centered around medieval alabasters, sculpture and paintings and it was fascinating in every respect. In-between, we paused to admire and talk about their Polynesian sculptures and their modern British oil paintings.

The Unlikely Reunion of A Portrait and a Sword:
We spent a great deal of time in the hallway of their home where a striking portrait of a British colonial officer on horseback being eyed by his three red-clad infantrymen caught my eye. It turned out to be a painting of Paul's great-great-great grandfather, a Lt. Gen. Littler, Deputy Governor-General of Bengal, depicting him on the Battlefields of Ferozepur in 1845--i.e. just before the Great Mutiny of 1857!

Knowing my deep interest in Indo-British history, Loulou took the time and trouble to tell me the story about the manner in which this painting came into their possession--and indeed it made my hair rise! The painting, depicting an ancestor on Paul's maternal side, had been passed down to members of his family and was taken for lost (though Paul and Loulou had seen pictures of it and were aware of its existence). One day, purely by happenstance, the two of them were in Sotheby's in London when Loulou spotted the painting and knew that it was the one depicting Paul's ancestor. In excitement, she pointed it out to Paul who then bid on it and brought the painting home. So that was Part One of this exciting story.

But it does not end there! It was when they were hanging it upon the wall in the entrance hall of their Suffolk home that Loulou (she of the eagle eye!!!) noticed once again that the good general was carrying a sword in his hand that most uncannily resembled the one that had been passed down to Paul by his family members and which she had gifted to her own son Jack! In fact, the sword was somewhere in Jack's room upstairs!

Needless to say, Loulou sprinted upstairs, found the sword, held it against the one in General Littler's hand in the portrait and was convinced that she was holding the exact same sword in her own hand!!! Of course, they then framed the painting in such a way as to have the sword, sheathed well in its own scabbard, hanging from the bottom of the painting. This story was so mind blowing that my knees felt weak on listening to it and I really felt as if I had to sit down right there on the stairs leading up their bedrooms!

What I loved, most of all, was the completely understated manner in which this treasure trove was presented to me. Loulou's completely unassuming and very modest ways were totally disarming and I marveled at them even as I was deeply touched by them. She and Paul were nothing if not casual. While there are extremely rare pieces sprinkled about the house, it is fully and completely lived-in and nowhere did it appear to me like a museum at all. This, I think, is the home's biggest triumph--that it exuded the down-to-earth spirit of its occupants with the most genuine sincerity and not the slightest iota of boastfulness. How goes the old saying? Old money whispers, it does not shout! That was what I most loved about Stanny House and its inhabitants. I felt deeply endeared to it and to them even though I was visiting it for the very first time.

Helmingham House and Gardens:
Then, we got into the car again and Loulou took me on another delightful drive--more farms, more fields, more villages--to Helmingham House and Gardens, a place that she simply knew I would love. About a half hour away from her place, the property comprises a grand Elizabethan mansion (a private house which cannot be visited) surrounded by the most beautiful gardens that are kept open to the public for a fee of 5 pounds each. Loulou has been to this place several times and knew exactly where to take me. Indeed, these gardens were amazing and I took so many pictures.

The star attraction for me was an incredible clump of salmon pink poppies, the size of which I have never seen in my life. They were as large as peonies (of which there were many in different colors), as tall as my waist and in my absolute favorite color. I could not stop exclaiming over them. The herbaceous borders are so well tended and so superbly coordinated in terms of color and texture that I could tell that an expert had conceived of them and created them. It turns out that most of these gardens are fairly new as the current owner is a passionate gardener who has done a great deal to develop the gardens and very generously opens them up to the public.

The property also comprised a rose garden and an Elizabethan Knot Garden (in keeping with the design of the house which is itself a beauty what with its typically interesting Tudor brick designs on the wall, its multiple chimneys and its moat that encircles the property at two levels). As if this sense of space and grandeur were inadequate, the estate has its own herd of white spotted fallow deer and there were several of them not far from the house at all. In fact, a few fawns were rather close to the gardens (though safely fenced far away!).

After pausing to examine the rarer specimens of the collection, Loulou and I needed a tea break and we took one in the Garden Tea Room where we enjoyed a really good cup of tea and a slice of Coffee and Walnut Cake--the third day in a row that I have indulged in this newly-discovered English treat (at Sissinghurst, Polesdon Lacey and now here at Helmingham!). Then, because it was almost 5 pm and I had a train to catch and Loulou and Paul had a dinner date to keep, we left the premises.

But Loulou was still keen to show me other parts of the area and took me for a long drive towards the coast through entirely different terrain that compromised forests known for their bird and wild life. We arrived at the coastal village of Orford which reminded me so much of Southport and its marina that I lost no time at all taking pictures of the sailing vessels in the estuary. It was all quite delightful indeed!

Back at Stanny House, the three of us and Dipper set out on a lovely walk through the farmland to spot bee orchids that have recently sprung up in their grasslands--but the property is so vast that we had to drive to get to this particular field. I made the discovery that both my friends are keen naturalists and have an abiding love for birds and other creatures, not to mention flora. They are so excited that orchids have naturally taken seed on their property! As we walked, Paul, binoculars slung around his neck, looked for and spotted a number of birds incuding a white barn owl that soared in the distance. Indeed, their excitement was infectious and I had a truly marvelous afternoon in their company for I learned so very much on a subject about which I am truly an ignoramus--Natural History. I missed Llew sorely as I know that his own interests as a naturalist and his great love for birds would have thrilled him so much in these wide open spaces. If we are ever in England together, I would love to bring him back to this unspoiled curve of the East Anglian coast. As we walked through waist-deep grass dotted with spiky thistle (much to Dipper's annoyance), I simply had to pause to take more pictures for I have never had this superbly bucolic experience before.

Then, it was time for them to hurry home and get dressed for their dinner appointment. They dropped me off along the way at Wickham Market train station and whizzed off. I boarded my train, five minutes later, and spent the two hour long journey (with a change at Ipswich) recalling the incredible day I had enjoyed in their lovely company. I have to say that Loulou did not send me back empty handed--there was Bibb Lettuce and Arugula (what the English call 'Rocket') in my bag and a charming bunch of the most fragrant sweet peas from her garden.

Regular readers of this blog will know that I have felt deeply blessed all year--ever since I arrived in London. But, on my way back to Denmark House, I could not help thinking that my biggest blessing this year has been the amazing range of English friends I have made and the manner in which they have taken me to their hearts and shared the uniqueness of their lives with me. Paul and Loulou are two of those great blessings and for that I feel truly grateful.

Back at Liverpool Street Station at 9. 45 pm, I hopped into a bus that brought me home in less than twenty minutes. I put my sweet peas in cool water and prepared for bed, deeply happy about the unusual and very interesting day I had spent in Suffolk.

Two More Walks and 'As You Like It' at The Globe

Monday, June 7, 2009
London

My day began with Harry Potter and then the transcribing of an interview with Coreen. Frustratingly, another interview that was scheduled for the morning with an Anglo-Indian was cancelled with no desire on the part of the lady to reschedule it. So, there it went! Another contact bites the dust! Still, I suppose I must be grateful for the many Anglo-Indians who have cooperated with me in my research, made the time for me and extended their legendary hospitality to me.

When I finished the transcribing and the proofreading, I decided to get out and finish two more self-guided walks from my Frommer's Book. Perhaps it was for a reason that I had saved these for last--they are both based on the eastern side of the city and easily accessible by foot from where I live.

Ghosts of the Old City--Dick Wittington's Influence:
This walk, though entitled "Ghosts of the Old City" took me to a number of Christopher Wren designed churches, each of which was filled with marvelous legends and folklore, not to mention ghosts! This walk began at the Church of St. Mary Le Bow whose bells are supposed to have rung out the ditty: "Turn again Wittington, Lord Mayor of London" to prevent the orphan Richard (Dick) Wittington from running away from his life of cruelty in London.

The legend of Whittington is all over this part of the city in the many churches with their lovely ornate Wren steeples. I stepped into this one right off Cheapside (so-called because a daily market was held on this street for the common man in the Middle Ages) into Bow Churchyard. Like all Anglican churches built by Wren, there is a quiet austerity about these interior spaces made more ornate by stained glass windows through which jewelled light streams on sunny days and the odd touches of gilding on plaster decorated ceilings. There is a crypt in this church (which is probably Roman) where a Healing Session was taking place when I visited briefly.

Out of Bow Churchyard, I stepped into Bow Lane in search of the Williamson's Tavern and found it in a little alleyway. This building used to house London's Lord Mayors (until Mansion House was built) and the pub that is on the ground floor proudly reveals this fact. I also discovered that this pub serves traditional English ales and is on The Ale Trail--a series of well-marked walks that allows the ale-lover to sample the ancient brew in rather quaint surroundings. If you order a pint of ale at any one of the pubs on these routes, you get a stamp on a card. Five stamps and you are entitled to an Ale Trail T-Shirt! Now had I known about this earlier, I might have tried to do this as well and perhaps there might still be time for me to do one of them--let's see.

A Haul of Roman Coins and Pottery:
It was while I was getting out of this pub and heading towards another one called Ye Olde Watling Pub that stands on the crossroads where the old Londinium Roman Road intersected those going off to Canterbury and Winchester, that I spied another church. This one was not mentioned in my walk (I wonder why???) but my eye was attracted to a notice outside the church that said: "New stock of Roman coins on sale. Inquire within". I entered the Guild Church of St Mary and was stunned. You have to see the fan-vaulted plasterwork ceiling to believe it. I mean, it is gorgeous!!! And yet, this church was not on my walk! How is such a thing possible? I spent a long while inspecting the interior and taking pictures and then ran into the Verger who took me into the sacristy to show me the haul of Roman coins.

Now I have to say that, in my ignorance, I thought he would produce some museum-shop style reproductions. But, get this, he had a haul of real, genuine Roman coins that have been found in digs all over the London area. It turns out that the Vicar of this Church, one Rev. John Mothersole, has been a dedicated antiquarian since the age of seven. He spends his free time traveling to sites associated with the ancient world and brings back genuine souvenirs of his visits that he is able to gain access to, thanks to his clerical collar!

Well, not only did I find each Roman coin (which he has collected from the many people who have found them in the basements of their London houses or wherever there is a dig of some sort going on in the city) but he categorizes them, gives you detailed provenance of each of them, dates them, etc. and sells then to raise funds for the church. I saw a beauty--a silver coin from the reign of Antonious Pius (first to second century AD) that I wanted to buy right away because I was so excited that I was actually holding a genuine Roman coin that had been working currency in the ancient world!!! However, the Verger did not take credit cards and I did not have enough cash on me, so I will have to return to pick it up.

When he saw how interested I was in the coins, the Verger took me to his safe and showed me fragments of pottery from archaeological sites that his Vicar had collected and labelled and which he was willing to sell me for any donation I wished to give. I parted with a few sous and ended up with two fragments--one from the Bhir Mound in Taxila (the ancient Indo-Gangetic university town), now in Pakistan and another large fragment from the handle of a Roman amphora from Monte Tess.... in Italy! Can you imagine how excited I was? Now, I know for a fact that these things have no monetary value at all--but for me, history buff that I am, this is a part of the ancient world that is actually in my possession--a tangible reminder of the glorious past that I can hold in my hand and marvel at. That was all I cared about as I safely bundled my goodies in my bag and left the church. Just see where happenstance led me???

Well, the walk continued then to the Temple of Mithras, an underground Roman Temple which has been recreated at ground level and is nothing more inspiring right now than a heap of cemented brick. The actual marble statues of Mithras (that were part of this haul) I have seen in the Guildhall Gallery and in the Museum of London. The Church of St. James Garlickhythe, my next stop, was closed though it is located in a very picturesque square, so on I pressed towards College Hill to the church of St. Michael Paternoster Royal (mind you, these are all Wren churches) where there is a stained glass window depicting Dick Wittington and his cat! Wittington did indeed become Lord Mayor of London four times and donated large amounts of the money he made to this church. Just a short walk uphill, you come across a blue plaque that announces the actual site of his mansion, now long gone.

The London Stone:
The last really interesting item to discover on this walk is the London Stone. This is now ensconced in an ornate wrought-iron grilled receptacle near 111 Cannon Street. While no one knows exactly what this is, it is conjectured that it was placed at the very heart of the old city of London during the Middle Ages though it is also possible that it was a Roman Milestone used to measure all distances from Londinium to other parts of the Roman empire in the province of Britannia. Not a single soul stopped to look at it (probably because no one really knows anything about its existence), but to me this was a remarkable find.

Meeting a Fellow-Blogger:
Then, I went out on foot towards Liverpool Street Station where I'd made plans to meet a regular reader of my blog. He chanced upon it a few weeks ago and has been giving me wonderful suggestions on places to see in the city. Murali is a mathematician in a bank who shares my passion for poetry, travel, London, theater, history, art, old houses, etc. and it was decided that we should put faces to each other's writings as I have been frequently browsing through his blog and gaining valuable information from it.

He bought me a peppermint tea and settled down with a hot chocolate himself as we talked about our backgrounds and the circumstances that brought us, both Indian-born, to London. After a good hour during which we got to know each other better, he left me with some more suggestions for things to see and do in this city, before we said goodbye.

I had a couple of hours before I would make my way to the Globe Theater to see Shakespeare's As You Like It, so I decided to do a second walk as its origin at the Museum of London was not too far at all from where I was.

Remnants of Rome:
This walk entitled "Remnants of Rome" has been done by me in little dribs and drabs over the past few weeks (without my really meaning to do this). It started at the London Wall near the Museum of London and took me into a little Herb Garden attached to the Worshipful Company of Barbers (can you even believe there is such a thing???!!-only in England, kids, only in England). From there, I could see the tall steeple of St. Giles Cripplegate Church where the poet Milton is buried. But it was closed and all I could do was admire it from the outside.

Reading about the London Wall taught me that the Romans had built a wall to surround the city of Londinium (in the same way that they did in York--which still stands quite superbly enclosing the old city). While much of it was destroyed by the Middle Ages, successive kings did fortify it so that the walls of the city of London stood until it was no longer necessary to use it as a form of defence. The various parts of the city today whose names end in 'Gate', as in Aldergate, Bishopsgate, Ludgate, Cripplegate (probably because crippled people congregated outside this gate begging for alms) etc. were actually gates into the city through the old walls!!! At any rate, I shall try to visit this church sometime in the future. Its antiquity is doubly curious since it stands today right in the midst of the huge township-like community that has developed around the Barbican including St. Giles Terrace, a number of very modern apartment buildings built around artificial lakes and fountains whose balconies spill over with colorful geraniums. Dotted around the area are old gardens, all of which are still so beautifully maintained.

A Tribute to Hemminge and Condell:
This walk continued towards the Guildhall which I have covered on other trails, so I decided to skip it this time and take a rest in a small garden on Aldermanbury Square where I made another charming discovery! This was not in my book either, so it was another one of those happy spots to which only serendipity led me. I found myself in a small garden with a bronze bust of Shakespeare in the center. Now I was going to see As You Like It later in the evening, so I wanted to find out what Shakespeare was doing in the middle of London's Financial District.

Well, it turned out to be a monument to John Hemminge and Henry Condell, two of Shakespeare's earliest editors. It was they, Shakespeare's friends and fellow-actors in the theatrical world, who after his death in 1616 decided to put together a volume of all his plays--his Collected Works as it were, to be made available to the public. Now you must realize that none of these plays were in any one place. They were scattered all over, in Shakespeare's own handwriting, with theater notes made on them, any amount of corrections and changes made to the script as Shakespeare or his collaborators thought suitable. Hemminge and Condell painstakingly brought all Shakespeare's Tragedies, Comedies and Histories together in one volume--what we call the First Folio of 1623 (the Second Folio came out in 1632) and were it not for their labors, the works of the world's greatest playwright might well have been lost (since play writing was not considered a respectable profession or a high art form and these working manuscripts were usually destroyed right after a play had finished its run).

Can you imagine a greater catastrophe than that!!!??? I had, of course, studied all this during my undergraduate years from the late Dr. Mehroo Jussawala, a Shakespeare scholar par excellence at the University of Bombay so many years ago. But to actually see a monument that acknowledges their efforts was deeply moving to me and as I sat there and gazed upon the bust of Shakespeare, I felt a tear well up in my eye.

And then when I considered how unassuming and modest about their achievements Hemminge and Condell had been, I was even more moved. For this is what they write in their Preface:

"We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead,--without ambition either of self-profit or fame; only to keep the memory of so worthy a Friend and Fellow alive as was our Shakespeare".

Awwww!

Yet, despite their huge contribution to the History of Dramatic Art, nowhere have I ever seen them publicly acknowledged in this form. It was not until 1896 that someone called Charles Clement Walker of Lilleshall Old Hall, Shropshire, thought it fitting to reward their endeavors by creating and funding this monument that he placed in their memory in a part of the old City that they might have frequented. Bees buzzed around a great big patch of yellow flowers and another great big patch of lamb's ears that grew tall and stately and were full of purple flower heads as I contemplated the long journey of the Bard from the Globe Theater to the hearts and minds of people around the world.

Off to the Globe Theater:
So it seemed only appropriate that my next port of call was Sam Wannamaker's new Globe Theater on the opposite bank of the Thames which I crossed by strolling over Southwark Bridge. I pulled my suede jacket a bit more warmly around me and wondered if I had done the right thing going directly to the play without stopping at home to pick up a warmer coat. Still, I imagined it wouldn't be too bad.

It was the opening night of Shakespeare's As You Like It, a play which I know really well from having studied it as a student of Eng. Lit. years ago. I have also seen it in performance on at least two occasions and both times I remember that the character of Celia had been far more memorable than Rosalind.

Anyway, I was meeting my NYU colleague Matt who teaches Drama at NYU-London and is also the Theater Critic for the International Herald Tribune. He had invited me to use his free press pass on press night, an occasion that included a lovely buffet with a bar and an opportunity to pick up freebies--like a programme and a free cushion! Matt arrived at 6. 45 pm as we had planned and we spent a lovely evening together filling up on quiches and pork pies and sandwiches at the buffet and sipping elderflower juice (which I have developed a great fondness for here in London) and white wine for him.

As for the play, gosh, it was good! We loved every second of this charming production to which all of the characters lent their histrionic expertise. This Rosalind was far better than Celia, I have to say, and by far the two most interesting characters were Touchstone the Fool and Jacques who in their supporting roles provided refreshing comedic nuances. We also loved Peter Gayle who plays Amiens and lent his very pleasing voice indeed to the songs that are so intrinsic to this play. I told Matt that years ago, during my life in India, I had served as Theater Critic for The Free Press Journal--I had done this for almost ten years and had seen every significant dramatic production (both international and indigenous) that had ever come to Bombay. This explains why Chriselle gravitated towards a career in Acting--it was because she had accompanied me for years on end as a child, from one play production to the next, as I took notes and then churned out my reviews.

At the interval, we were downstairs nibbling again (on some really outstanding olives) and socializing and then we were back in the 'galleries" (and how very grateful I was for my seat for I felt really sorry for the poor groundling sods standing in the pit!).

Darkness had fallen when I returned to Wobbly Bridge to cross it and walk home. Matt who lives in beautiful Hampstead was envious of the fact that I could just walk back. He turned towards London Bridge and left. Though I had expected a chilly night, it really wasn't bad at all. The lights illuminated the many striking buildings, their reflections dipping into the river and in less than ten minutes after I passed by St. Paul's Cathedral, I was home.

An Easter Sunday with a Difference--including a Royal Sighting!

Easter Sunday, April 12, 2009
London

It was an Easter with a difference for both of us! How delighted I was to have my dear Llew here with me in London during this Holy Week and to have him share Easter Sunday with me was a treat indeed. Of course, we both missed Chrissie as well as my family in Bombay whom we called first thing in the morning where they were all assembled at my brother Roger's house in Bandra for Easter lunch. Because Llew wanted to attend a Catholic mass on Easter Sunday, I went online to look for mass timings at Westminster Cathedral and at the Brompton Oratory--two truly magnificent London churches as our closest Catholic church, St. Etheldreda's, tends to be rather empty since Holborn is not so much a residential area as it is a commercial one.

Latin High Mass at the Brompton Oratory:
After breakfasting on cereal and croissants and showering, we left our flat and took the Tube to South Kensington and caught the 11 am mass at the Brompton Oratory which was packed to the rafters with people dressed to kill in expensive Hermes scarves and cultured pearl jewelry. It was with the greatest difficulty that Llew and I managed to shove ourselves into the church where we found a seat each in two different rows one behind the other! Still, we were grateful as so many people stood throughout the long traditional Latin Mass that went on for a whole hour and a half. The singing was superb and the responses from the congregation--all in sung Latin, mind you--truly impressed us. The priest made the announcement that refreshments and coffee would be available in the church hall and we deicded to go there for a slice of cake as our big meal of the day was not until 5 pm.

A Royal Sighting!
It was while we were making our way to the Hall for coffee that we had an unexpected royal sighting. A beautiful black Bentley had drawn up and two priests suddenly seemed very keen on going forward to meet its occupants who were leaving the church and making their way to the car. It took me only a second to recognize Prince Michael of Kent who happens to be the first cousin of both Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh--his beard makes him pretty distinctive. I have grown up seeing his photographs for years at every single royal do and I nudged Llew hard and whispered to him, "This is Prince Michael of Kent. He is the first cousin of the Queen". I did not recognize his wife, but I recalled somewhere from deep in the recesses of my memory that the Princess is a Catholic which explained their presence at our Catholic service. Later I discovered from the Web that she is a Viennese aristocrat from a Catholic family in Austria.

She was very elegantly dressed indeed in a sand colored suit with a splendid hat which sported two pheasant feathers. Standing right by her was a very attractive young lady who looked slightly embarassed by all the fuss--undoubtedly their daughter, Lady Gabriella--whom I later discovered, also from the Net, is a graduate of Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island. At any rate, there was much bowing and scraping in front of this royal family and I actually saw a lady from the congregation courtesy in front of the Princess and then go forward to plant a peck on her cheek. Prince Michael of Kent nodded smilingly at Llew and me just before he entered the Bentley and Llew noticed the royal crest on the license plate of the car. Indeed, it was quite an interesting if very unexpected encounter for us and quite made our Easter Sunday.

Llew told me later over coffee that he thoroughly enjoyed the Latin High Mass and was very pleased that we had decided to come as far away as the Brompton Oratory on this special Sunday. He was especially impressed by the fact that so many members of the congregation were able to join heartily in the singing, young and old alike, and that they carried the old-fashioned Missals that he remembered from his old growing years in Sunday school.

Stepping back into history at Dennis Severs House:
Then, we were on the Tube again heading for the East End where I had decided that we would visit one of London's most unusual museums--Dennis Severs House at 18 Folgate Street in Spitalfields. We arrived there about 2 pm. and paid the 8 pounds (a piece) entry fee that took us inside. We were instructed to keep perfectly silent in the house, not to touch anything and not to take any pictures. We were explained the fact that the house is set up in such a way as to suggest that we are entering the domain of a Mr. Issac Jervis, a wealthy Hugenot silk weaver around the year 1724. As we climbed higher up the four storeys, the time period got closer to our age until at the very top floor, we were in the early 1800s at the time of the sudden accession to the throne of Queen Victoria.

It is not merely the fact that the house is crammed with the most marvelous antiques that caught our imagination but the fact that we are part of a drama in which it appears as if the family that lived in the rooms vacated them as soon as we entered. Thus, a half eaten slice of buttered bread, a bitten pear, a nearly empty cup of tea are some of the props that make up the unusual ambience of this home. The experience is not merely a visual delight but a completely sensual one as sounds, and even smells, permeate the environment from the clanging of the nearby bells of Christ Church, Spitalfields, to the booming of the cannons that announced the arrival of Queen Victoria to the throne. In the bedrooms, we smelled cinnamon potpourii, in the kitchen, the fire in the grate warmed the entire room as well as our fingers and in the upper floors where cobwebs hung about the poverty-stricken hovels of the tenants who were barely able to keep body and soul together, there was a dank mustiness that was most unpleasant. At one stage, we became part of an 18th century painting by Hogarth as we encircled a table that had just witnessed a drunken brawl.

Dennis Severs was an American artist who was so fascinated by the history of the East End and the determined efforts made by London to retain the dated atmosphere of the area through the protection of the exterior of its buildings that he decided to buy one of the silk weaver's homes and decorate it so authentically that a visitor might be able to have the sort of out-of-body experience that is only possible when one transports oneself compeletely into a long ago world and blends into it. Hence, his concept of the wholistic antiquated experience which has resulted in this unusual phenomenon. What was incredible was the fact that he lived in this manner in this very house during his own life in London and wanted to perpetuate the experience long after he passed away.

Needless to say, both Llew and I were utterly transfixed by this visit and it was easily the best 8 pounds we have spent in a long while. I was so glad that I had Llew with whom to share this experience. I fully appreciated the insistence upon silence in the house because I have found through my solitary travels in so many countries that the best, most meaningful, experiences for me have been the ones that I have enjoyed alone and without the interruption of conversation with a companion, as, often, the act of talking causes the mind to lose focus and become distracted by extraneous details that have no direct bearings upon the item or scene being investigated. Still, I was pleased to have had Llew to talk with after we had both gone through this completely unique house.

Foray into Brick Lane:
Then, since we were so close to it and Llew was keen to visit it, we walked to Brick Lane, made famous by Monica Ali's novel of the same name which both Llew and I had read a long time ago. Of course, we found it to be unfamiliar to us in many ways for it neither reminded me of India (in which I grew up) nor of Pakistan (in which Llew grew up) but being a part of London that has been colonized by Bangladeshi immigrants, it has a distinctly Bengali ambience to it. After we had perused some of the sweetmeat shops, we walked back to Liverpool Street station for the next part of our rather adventurous day--our Easter dinner.

Dinner at Rules Restaurant--London's Oldest:
I had tried to make a reservtion at Rules restaurant only this morning and discovered that a 5 pm sitting was all that was available. I decided to go for it as it would be the sort of late lunch early dinner that we usually have when we celebrate Christmas or Easter at home. We arrived at Maiden Lane just behind Covent Garden exactly at 5pm and were very warmly and cordially welcomed by the maitre d' hote who led us to a cozy table for two in a corner.

I had first heard about Rules on one of the London walks that I took several weeks ago and had decided right away that this was the sort of restaurant I wanted to eat a dinner in when Llew got to London. it helped that the restaurant is London's oldest, having been established in 1798. It has had its fair share of celebrity clientele from Edward VII who often frequented the place with his mistress Lillie Langtrey, Charles Dickens, Graham Greene and Sir John Betjeman, among several prominent others. The decor is so unique that you can spend an entire evening just gazing upon its walls that are covered with antlers of varing shape and size, playbills from a vast number of Covent Garden shows over the centuries, cartoons from contemporary magazines and newspapers and illustrations of theater personalities and journalists. The lighting is soft and very flattering indeed and the lampshades and dark wood-panelled walls made the entire place appear like the interior of a library on an English country estate. Needless to say, I adored every aspect of the place and Llew shared my enthusiasm for it as well.

We then got down to the serious business of ordering our dinner. We chose a jug of claret but decided to forego the starters as I really did want to have a dessert. A quick glance at the puddings told me that I would not be disappointed and right away I decided to go for the sticky toffee pudding with butterscotch sauce. But that would have to wait. For our main course, I decided to eat the daily special--farm duck served with garlic spinach, crispy bacon and a sauce of chestnuts and red wine. Llew chose rabbit with a wild mushroom casserole. Since we shared our dishes, I can say that each one was better than the other, the meat succulent and juicy and the sides quite superbly done and very tasty indeed. Service was impeccable and attentive and the entire set up was simply special. When it came time for dessert, Llew chose the chocolate souffle with chocolate ice cream and when our puddings arrived, there was a rather unexpected treat included--a tiny pastry nest filled with chocolate mousse in which two candy coated chocolate eggs were hiding. There was also a little wafer that said Easter on it--a very cute touch indeed. Overall, we had one of the most memorable meals we have eaten in London and I was very pleased that Llew enjoyed the meal as much as I did and that I had made the right choice in selecting Rules (so-called because it was founded by a man named Thomas Rule). At the end of the evening, a waiter very kindly escorted me to the top floor where I peeked into the Sir John Betjeman Room that seats 8 and the Graham Greene room that seats 18 as both these literary gentlemen loved this restaurant and ate here frequently.

Then, it was time to walk home--we were so full that we did not have coffee but elected to get some exercise instead. Covent Garden was abuzz with visitors and buskers and a singer who presented a plaintive version of JT's Fire and Rain. In less than 15 mintues, we were home, making a few calls to the friends we have recently made in this city and to Chriselle and Chris who were just about beginning to start their own Easter lunches in the States. We did miss being together for Easter but we were glad that Chriselle was having a good time with Chris's friends.

Llew then began the serious task of getting his suitcases packed up. I took over his large one and filled it with the stack of formal and winter clothes that I no longer need in London since the weather is now much milder. I have retained only a few cashmere cardigans in neutral colors and since I have only three more classes to teach before the semester ends, I sent back my formal woolen suit jackets. From now on, I shall be living mainly in casual clothes and I am looking forward to warmer days.

The evening passed swiftly as Llew prepared to make his exit from London and return to Connecticut. I will be sorry to see him go tomorrow, but I feel blessed that God allowed us to spend Easter together--an Easter with a difference, but one I know we were always remember as long as we live.