An Adventurous Return Stateside!

Sunday-Monday, August 10-11, 2013

 London

            It is customary for me to end my blog posts with an account of my last day—but this time round, my return home was fraught with so much drama that I simply have to include an account of it.

           

A Brush with Celebrity:

By a complicated routing that had involved arriving in Europe through Copenhagen, Denmark, almost two months ago, I had to return there to board my flight to the States. Easyjet was by far the cheapest way to do that—so there I was in a serpentine queue at Gatwick airport, at the crack of dawn, periodically passing by a young man that looked annoying familiar. And yet I could place him. Several minutes of rather agonizing brain racking led me to realize he was an actor whom I have grown familiar with through Doc Martin, a show I watch regularly on PBS in Southport. Although I did not know his name, I remember him as Al, the very slim son of the very fat Bert who runs a waterside restaurant, in the Cornwall-based TV series.

Well, I simply had to make sure I wasn’t just imagining things. So, the next time, we brushed shoulders, I stirred up enough courage to say to him, “Excuse me, but aren’t you an actor?” He gave me the slightest smile and replied, “Yes”. I continued, “Haven’t I been seeing you in Doc Martin?” And he responded, “Yes”, again with the same embarrassed smile. And that was it! How shy he was! When I got back home, I googled him and discovered that he is Joe Absalom, a very successful TV actor. And yet how easily he had managed to fade into a crowd. No fanfare, no fuss. How marvelous, I thought, to be an actor and enjoy so much anonymity. How Brad Pitt must envy him!

           

A Short Stint in Copenhagen Again:

          Well, my flight to Copenhagen was uneventful. I had plans to stash my baggage away in the left-luggage locker and go out into the city. But frankly, by this stage in the game, I was tired—yes, indeed, I did write that…I was tired, both physically and mentally—and I was ready to simply spend a few hours relaxing at the airport. And that was precisely what I did. At Kastrup airport, I actually wrote what I thought would be my last blog post about my last day in London. I had a really good lunch from Yam Tam Thai Food To Go (good noodles with Spicy Chicken Peanut Curry), did a spot of duty free window shopping and then boarded my British Airways flight to return to Heathrow which left Kastrup at 4. 25 pm. and was scheduled to arrive in Heathrow at 5. 30 pm.

         I clearly spied the great big bridge that takes vehicular traffic from Copenhagen to Malmo in Sweden—part of it suddenly disappears under water! We had passed right under this bridge while on the cruise—just as we were eating dinner on our final night at Tamarind restaurant.

Spectacular Landing at Heathrow:

            I know that some people who read this blog regularly poke fun of me when I report how much of a city I am able to sight from 10,000 feet above sea level. And they are more than welcome to their share of guffaws. But I will tell you once again, at the risk of becoming a butt of their humor, that the touch down into Heathrow London was simply one of the most spectacular in my memory.

            First of all, it was the clearest day ever. Not a puff of cloud appeared in the perfect blue skies. I am easily able to find my bearings when we are flying right over the city at my first sighting of the Thames or the Millennium Dome. But this time, it was the Olympic Stadium that leaped out at me—and I realized we were flying right over Stratford. Then it was Anish Kapoor’s strange sculpture at the Olympic Park that emerged, crystal clear, like an inverted red exclamation mark. And then there was the Shard—that inevitable steel pin rising up as if to touch the plane’s wing.

             Once I spotted the Shard, I realized that we were flying directly above Canary Wharf. Indeed the cluster of skyscrapers was directly below my window! It was simply fascinating! Then my eye drifted across the Thames and over Wobbly Bridge as I tried desperately to spot St. Paul’s Cathedral. You’d think that so massive a structure would be easy to distinguish. But it was a bit of a struggle in the close construction of buildings that comprise The City of London. But spot it I did…and so inevitable my eyes sought out Amen Court where I had spent the last week of my stay in London—and there it was, I swear, I am not exaggerated. It was obliterated by a few trees, but clearly visible beneath me. My eyes then drifted along westward and I clearly saw the red unmistakable points of the Prudential Insurance Building on High Holborn—and, of course, less than an inch from where I was viewing the earth below me was 7 High Holborn, the building in which I had spent close to two weeks on first arriving in London. No, its outlines were not as sharp as the Prudential which towers in height and in appearance, but again, the general sense of the building’s position was easily spotted.

               Next my eyes moved westward, with the plane to the Tower of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament and along Whitehall, I clearly saw the official buildings opposite the Cenotaph (which I did not spot) with the gaping O in the center—not visible to us when we are actually walking past them on Whitehall. On to Buckingham Palace which was bathed in golden sunshine and the Victoria Memorial where I had stood only a few weeks ago with elation the day after the birth of Prince George was announced. “I was there”, I thought, as the plane moved swiftly over Hyde Park where the Serpentine gleamed smoothly. And then we were over the Thames again, losing height rapidly. I tried hard to spot Hampton Court Palace but I was not able to although I was clearly over Barnes Bridge whose distinguishing iron work makes it very obvious.

             Finally, we landed at Heathrow Terminal 5. I had less than two hours to connect to another flight—to the US.  But this was a Virgin Atlantic flight departing from Terminal 3. I took the courtesy coach provided by Heathrow for inter-terminals transfers and checked into my Virgin Atlantic flight which was scheduled to depart from London at 8.00 pm. I had just enough time to recharge my I-phone and to use Heathrow’s complimentary wifi (available only for 45 minutes at a stretch) before I boarded my flight for my return to the States.

Unexpected Mid-Air Drama:

            And then, when we were settled with drinks and were two hours into our flight (over Ireland if one went by the flight map), the Captain came on the PA system and made the shocking announcement that he had made a turn mid-air (unbeknownst to any of us). A technical glitch needing urgent attention had led him to take the decision to return the aircraft to Heathrow. He promised to get back to us soon with developments. Once we got over our shock, the cabin crew brought us snack packets—those would have to suffice as dinner, they said, as there was no time to do a full dinner service. Needless to say, we were starving by then but, left with no choice, simply had to make the best of our situation.

            A few minutes later, the Captain announced that ground staff would meet us at Heathrow airport where accommodation for the night had been arranged for us. There was no word about when we would fly out. Right enough, Virgin’s ground staff met us after we cleared Immigration and picked up our baggage. The airport’s Hoppa buses were galvanized into providing us with transport to the Holiday Inn Hotel. There, hotel reception staff, in what seemed like a jiffy, provided us with keys to our rooms and a restaurant voucher for breakfast in the morning.  Virgin’s staff informed us that we were all to be put on a flight leaving the next afternoon at 1. 15 pm. We were instructed to reassemble in the lobby by 10.00 am for the complimentary transfer to the Terminal.

            Well, most people headed straight to the restaurant for dinner. I was sleepy and tired more than hungry and not able to face another public meal. So I took my key and my baggage, found my room and decided to settle down in front of the telly as I brewed myself a cup of decaff coffee and fished out the bacon and lettuce wrap that British Airways staff had served me on the flight back from Copenhagen and which was lying untouched in my backpack. Replete, I fell asleep in a thrice and only awoke at 7. 30 am.

            A quick shower and a change of clothing later, I was down in the lobby tucking into a enormous Full English Breakfast with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, baked beans, potato hash and black pudding—yes! What a terrific way to end a adventurous departure from London. As my friend Ian tweeted it, “Quite a dramatic way to ensure one more day ‘s stay in London!”

            Post-Breakfast, we were packed into coaches, met my more Virgin Atlantic ground staff, seen speedily through check-in and placed on a flight that does not even exist on the regular roster! Everyone was especially nice to us and apologies were made frequently. I had managed to contact Llew to inform him about the change in my flight schedule. He texted me to inform me that he would pick me up from JFK airport—and so it was not necessary for me to make a shuttle booking for surface transport from JFK to Southport (although Virgin Atlantic would have reimbursed me). My flight was very pleasant indeed and on schedule, we touched down at JFK at the end of what had been for me an incredible summer to remember,              

Parting Shot:    

           Thanks for following me so faithfully on this month-long journey and for the pleasure of your company as an armchair traveler. Until I am safely back in my London Roost again, I wish you goodbye and good luck.

            And of course, I end by saying, cheerio!          

Breathless But Blissful Last Day in London

Saturday, August 10, 2013

London

Breathless But Blissful Last Day in London

            And so it arrived finally—as all good things must—the end, that is, of my near-perfect month in London. On the one hand, as I look back, it seems to have flown in a heartbeat. And, yet, on the other, when I consider how much I crammed into 30 days, it seems as if I have spent a lifetime here.

            Alas, the clock chimes of St. Paul’s failed to wake me up at the crack of dawn—7. 30 am was more like it. I used the time whilst the rest of the household snoozed, to pack my bags carefully. By 9 am, Cynthia was up and preparing breakfast—we had cold cereal (muesli), lovely toast made with fig and hazelnut bread, marmalade and tea, and then I continued doing the odds and ends that must be accomplished in preparation for a long flight across the pond. By the end of the day, even I am shocked by the ground I covered and the astute management of time that permitted me to complete almost all of the items on my To-Do List--not just for the day but indeed for the trip.

Quick Nip into the Tate Modern Museum:
            By 11. 30 am, with my packing under control and my mind in a relatively peaceful state, I crossed Wobbly Bridge on foot and headed to the Tate Modern Gallery. It was the one major museum I had not yet peeked into—I was keen to see the Roy Lichtenstein canvas called Wham that introduced the techniques of comic books into contemporary art. Alas, I was informed that the Lichtenstein exhibition had ended two weeks ago and the canvas was no longer on display. Fortunately, I had seen it many years ago—so I felt less badly about missing the opportunity.

            Since I was in the Tate, I took a round of its newest installations and then made my way up to the 3^rd floor—the café level—for stunning views across the Thames to the dome and spires of St. Paul’s. It is astonishing how much London’s skyline has changed since I lived in it. Then, only the Gherkin had dominated the landscape—today, there is the towering Shard and still in a state of construction, the Cheese Grater and the Walkie-Talkie! Ever imaginative, Londoners are perceiving these new icons with their characteristic dry humor.

            Although my visit was short, it was lovely to take in old favorites—the Picassos and Miros, the Braques and the Legers. But time was running fast and I had much catching up to do…

    

An Errand at the Globe Theatre:

            My next port of call was next door at Shakespeare’s beautiful Globe Theater that I had also not visited during my entire extended stay. A desire to carry back home some brochures proclaiming the offerings of the new Sam Wannamaker Theater for my colleague Karen who will be teaching a course to coincide with the 450^th anniversary of the publication of the First Folio, I stepped into the lobby where Tours of the Theater commence. With my brochures safe in hand, I sauntered into the shop and was much humored by the witty aprons, oven mitts, note pads, coasters, key chains, etc. that bear Shakespearean quotes. I did not buy anything, however, and with my errand accomplished, I crossed Wobbly Bridge again, fighting hordes at every step before returning to Amen Court for a quick chicken sandwich lunch.

Time to Say Goodbye:

            Cynthia and Michael, mine hosts, were off to the famed Glyndebourne Festival—a major musical event--and I waited until they left at 1.00 pm, so as to bid them goodbye. They were not expected back home until past midnight, by which time I would be fast asleep. I did not expect to burst into tears as I hugged and thanked them; but sob I did! This foursome (which includes their sons) is like my family in London and I always get tearful when leaving them; but this time, my departure was made more poignant by the fact that I will never live with them in this glorious Christopher Wren home again as they will be moving shortly into a much more compact space where they will no longer be able to offer me the luxury of a room of my own with a separate bath. Although I know that I will see them again, the thought that it will be in a different location and in different circumstances, made me very nostalgic indeed for the many stays I have enjoyed in their warm, loving and hospitable home.

     

Off to Paddington:

            With Cynthia and Michael gone and my last day in London yawning gapingly ahead of me, I was delighted that their lawyer son Edward, who had a free Saturday at his disposal, volunteered to keep me company by spending the day in whatever way I wished. Thrilled to have his company, I mentally reorganized my day and off we went.

            Our first errand was in Paddington at Sussex Gardens, just near the famous St. Mary’s Hospital where Prince George was born three weeks ago. I had meant to present a small gift to my friend Bande Hassan at dinner last night. But I had clean forgotten to carry the present with me. I promised him that I would drop it off with his concierge and that was what Edward and I first did on having taken the Tube to Paddington.  Ten minutes later, we were dropping the bag off and leaving his building and looking for transport to take us our next location.

Antiquing on Portobello Road:

            Well, for a lover of antiques and vintage bricabrac, I suppose it is sacrilegious to spend an entire month in London and not find the time to browse amongst the Saturday morning stalls on Portobello Road. So, wanting to tick that box too, we took a bus to Notting Hill and began the long and painfully slow walk to the spot where the make-shift Saturday market sprouts up. It has been my recent unfailing experience that nothing but garbage is now to be found on the streets—cheap Chinese remakes of famous English porcelain patterns (the Redoute roses for instance on bone china mugs). Anything halfway decent is now in the shops that line both sides of the street but with much heavier price tags. There is plenty of “hotel silver” to be found now, mainly in the form of teapots, creamers and sugars and numerous salt and pepper shakers. But there wasn’t anything really portable and after a quick circle around the stalls, we retraced our steps and disappeared down the Tube stairwell at Notting Hill.

Whee! The Exciting Emirates Cable Car Ride!

            The Central (Red) Line took us directly to Stratford which was virtually the end of the line. This was the area that had buzzed last year at this time during the Olympic Games, From the Tube platform, we followed signs to the DLR (Dockland Light Railway) with the idea of getting off at Royal Victoria. About ten minutes later, we were able to see the capsules of the Cable Car and another ten minutes later, we had tickets in hand for the very pricey cost of 3. 20 pounds! Indeed, it was a steal and our excitement mounted as we mounted the platform to the embarkation area for a ride on the Emirates Air Line as the Cable Car Ride is called.

            Named for its sponsor, Emirates Airlines of Dubai, this newest London attraction (that is fast rivaling the Shard and the London Eye because it is so reasonably priced) has loads of offer. Not just is the cable car ride thrilling, soaring—as it does—high above the Thames, but its proximity to the Millennium Dome (the O2) on the other side, means one can then explore that exciting venue with its restaurants, cinemas, games arcades, etc. and its own newest attraction—the ability to scour the curve of it on the outside. Furthermore, the Cable Car ride offers fantastic views—from the Anish Kapoor sculpture in the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park near Stratford to the Thames Flood Barrier, from the towering heights of Canary Wharf to the bend in the Thames as it snakes towards the sea--you can take it all in. And it is deeply exciting! Very similar to the ski lift rides that are common at skiing resorts all over the world, the capsules move slowly to allow boarding and disembarkation. Ten people can be accommodated in as single capsule, so one is often clubbed in with a bunch of strangers, but it can be a very amusing experience overall. Edward and I enjoyed it enormously and would heartily recommend it to visitors to the capital.

            Upon disembarking, we walked towards the Millennium Dome and the Jubilee Line Tube Station at North Greenwich and twenty minutes later, we were at London Bridge to see another one of London’s new attractions, up close and personal, the Shard.

Circumnavigating the Shard:

            The reason the Shard is not as popular as it was predicted to be was its sky-high ticket to the Observation Deck. It is supposedly Europe’s tallest building, although even an assessment of its height from its base does not quite impress. It is a very interesting architectural design and chances are the top will always appear unfinished; but with the 30 pound ticket cost to ascend its dizzying heights, it is unlikely there will be many takers.

            I wasn’t interested in reaching the top—all I wanted to do was walk in its base and to circumnavigate its environs. This turned out to be far from impressive too. Indeed, there is really nothing much about which the Shard can boast—other than its height. Still, I was content that I ticked off yet another item on my Visit Wish List.

A Walk in Southwark and the South Bank:

            Realizing that we were very close to Southwark Cathedral, we decided to stroll along the South Bank of the Thames to take in its Saturday evening energy. Since Borough Market was wide open, in we went looking for end-of-business-day samples (or what the British call ‘tasters’) but there was nothing to be found as salesmen washed out their platforms and packed up for the day. Past Vinopolis we went and The Anchor pub and on past the many eateries that have mushroomed quay-side. We crossed Wobbly Bridge again and looking for sustenance, entered Le Pain Quotidien opposite St. Paul’s Cathedral where we sipped Americanos and hot chocolate and enjoyed pavlovas and chocolate tarts as we both badly needed a sit-down.

A Walk at the Inns of Courts at Chancery:

            Edward excused himself at this point, as he had an errand to run in Vauxhall. We decided to meet up again for dinner at Carluccio’s at Smithfield Market and off we went on the Tube.

            I took a bus down Fleet Street and got off at Chancery Lane in order to begin the last of my DK Eyewitness Guide tours as are to be found in the book. The walking tour wound through the back of the Royal Courts of Justice with their brick and granite work. I noticed, for the first time perched high on the corner of a building, the sculpture of Sir (and Saint) Thomas More, Chancellor of the Exchequer under Henry VIII, the Reformation’s most famous martyr. This is Holborn, heart of legal London, filled with grand buildings whose architecture never fails to lift my spirits.  On weekend evenings, the place simmers down to a whisper—only a few boisterous boozers can be heard at the few pubs that dot the warren of lanes.

            On Carey and Searle Streets I walked until, off Portugal Street, I arrived at The Old Curiosity Shop about which Dickens wrote a novel. It is definitely a 17^th century structure that survived the Great Fire of London as is evident by its sagging roof and its overhung upper storey—typical of Tudor housing. Today, a shoe store takes occupancy within but tourists do come in their numbers to take photos of a very interesting corner of this part of the city.

            Lincoln’s Inn, one of the four Inns that comprise the Court of Chancery, is a magnificent Tudor structure with banks of characteristic fancy brick work, tall chimney pots, stone gargoyles and an impressive gate house. It is said that the playwright Ben Jonson laid some of the bricks of these buildings in the reign of Elizabeth I. Although I have wandered at will through the many nooks and crannies of this venue, I was unable to enter today as the area is closed to visitors during the month of August as a result of some construction activity within.

            No harm, no foul. I left and made my way towards Sir John Soane’s Museum which is also heavily scaffolded—due to refurbishment. It was closed, in any case, and having visited it on many occasions, I had no intentions of going inside to peruse the impact of Soane’s obsessive collecting of architectural fragments from around the world. On another side of the Square in which prisoners were once executed (it is rumored that the screams of their ghosts can still be heard on certain nights in the area) is the grand Neo-Classical façade of the Royal College of Surgeons that hides yet another little-known museum in its bowels—the Hunterian Museum (which I have also visited a few years ago).    

            And then, on another side, was the van with free food with hordes of homeless men clustered around it to claim their evening meal. Within half an hour, it was all gone and I found myself on Kingsway looking for the Church of St. Anselm and Sr. Cecilia as I wished to pay a visit since I would be missing Sunday mass tomorrow. That too was closed as the Saturday evening mass had ended about a half hour previously. My walk had accomplished a great deal—it had taken me through parts of London that I love because of my close familiarity with them, but it had also introduced me to certain facts of which I had remained ignorant.

            There was nothing left to do except enter Little Waitrose on High Holborn to buy myself some breakfast sandwiches for my early morning departure tomorrow. I did so and walked towards the bus stop at Brownlow Street to hop into a bus to Smithfield. By 7. 45, I was at Carluccio’s and awaiting the arrival of Edward.

Last Meal in London:

            Carluccio’s is one of my favorite London Italian chains—introduced to the city by Antonio Carluccio. I was introduced to it by my former neighbors Tim and Barbara, who often ate there on a Sunday evening. Edward arrived a few minutes later and we decided to have the 2 course prix fixe meal both of us choosing a penne pasta with sausage in a tomato sauce as our main dish and finishing off with Tiramisu which we washed down with red wine and Peroni beer respectively. We chatted about Bollywood movies of which, I discovered, Edward is a big fan. But by 10.10 pm, we had to call it a day and walking into the coolness of a summer’s night, we headed back to Amen Court where I finished the last bits and bobs of my packing. Edward very chivalrously took my cases downstairs in readiness for the cab driver who would be coming to pick me up at 4.00 am!

            And thus, quite suddenly, my time in London came to a grinding halt. I set two alarms to be on the safe side and to the chimes of St. Paul’s clock, tried to get to sleep. But tension made sleep elusive and when Cynthia and Michael returned after midnight, I was still awake and able to spend a few more minutes chatting with them before bidding them goodbye again. I continued to remain wide awake right through the night and at 3.30 am, woke up to start the long drive into the lightening dawn to begin my journey from Gatwick Airport and away from London.

            Yes, I will have to admit that tears blurred my eyes as they ate in the familiar landmarks of the city for I have no idea when I will return…but I live in the confidence that return I will. For when you have as much passion for a city as I do for T’Smoke, you never need much of an excuse to come back.

Parting Shot:
            So there you have it: My Month in Blighty. If I were to sum up its fruitfulness in terms of goals accomplished, I would say I did not do too badly. I researched, wrote, and worked with the editors to complete a commissioned essay on Paradoxes of Anglo-Indian Identity. I made contact with the Images Department of the National Portrait Gallery to obtain rights and permission for the use of pictures I intend to include in my forthcoming book. I  met with sociologists and anthropologists at The School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London to gain insights into the manner in which the manuscript of my book can be improved for publication. I had fruitful meetings with faculty colleagues and staff at NYU-London who worked hard to support my work in the computer labs. I used the British Library for checking footnotes and cross-referencing sources in my bibliography. 
           I completed every single one of DK Eye Witness Guides walks through London. On an average, I walked 6 miles per day or about 12, 000 steps. And I broke my own personal walking record by walking 12 miles or approximately 25,000 steps in a single day when in Oxford.
           Outside of Central London, I visited Hampstead and Greenwich, Oxford and Leeds Castle. 
           One of the most fulfilling of my many excursions was visiting my infirm friend Stan Fuller at the Madeley Estate Home for the Aged in Witney, near Oxford.
           The most exciting part of being in London this summer was my presence in the city during the birth of the heir to the throne. I participated actively, as any die-hard Anglophile would, by making my way to the gates of Buckingham Palace to photograph the easel that announced the birth to the world. 
            I met many old friends and made new ones. They provided company, meals, long chats and insights into the British way of life. I also unexpectedly met and spent time with my old friend from Bombay, Firdaus, who was visiting London at the same time.
           I made my home in four different parts of the city and I enjoyed them all--Holborn, St. John's Wood, Battersea and Ludgate Hill. St. John's Wood and Battersea were new to me but I enjoyed discovering them. 
          I saw five great plays and my first opera at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden. I also saw the Bolshoi Ballet perform Tchaikowsky's Sleeping Beauty at Covent Garden.
          I think I can say that I packed more into my month than most visitors to London do in a year. I am always grateful for the opportunities that bring me to this, my favorite city--which is why I am almost manic in my consumption of its many pleasures. 

          Please stand by now for my last and final post—on my dramatic return to the US.

Friends, Shopping, Kyoto Gardens, More Friends, More Shopping...

Friday, August 9, 2013

London

What do you do when you realize you have only two days left in your favorite city in the world? Do you complete the rest of the items on your sightseeing To-Do List? Do you spend them shopping for last-minute items? Do you panic that you will exceed baggage weight allowance and end up paying heavy charges? Do you fill it seeing friends whose contact with you makes your life more meaningful?  Well, in my case it was all of the above.

            So when I awoke at 8.00 am after a hellish night during which I stayed wide awake until 3.00 am listening to the bongs from the clock on St. Paul’s Cathedral and regretting the caffeine- laden chocolate drink I had consumed, last thing at night, from Paul’s, I skipped Mass and began to plan my day, literally hour-wise, as I had so much to pack in.

           

Breakfast with a Dear Friend at St. John’s Wood:

I showered and skipped breakfast and took the Tube straight to St. John’s Wood and walked briskly to Gail’s, the coffee shop at which I had plans to meet my friend Marilyn. Marilyn had been away from London for the past three weeks and had only just returned—hence the late date for our first meeting. Talking of Gail’s, have you noticed how many coffee shop chains have sprouted all over London, each better than the next? These Londoners are simply spoiled for choice—and every single one is packed so the economy had better be booming.

            Marilyn arrived ten minutes later but since we wanted someplace quieter to catch up in, we stepped next door into French Café Richoux which has the best pastries in town. Since it was breakfast time, we opted for something more sensible--she had Eggs Benedict sans smoked salmon which I was quick to gobble and I had French Toast with an Americano. It was delicious but not as delicious as our long chinwag during which we found out all the exciting things that have happened in our lives since last we met a year and half ago, also in London. Marilyn was one of the close friends I had made during my life in London and she is someone I have clung to as I have gained nothing but wisdom, comfort and entertainment from our friendship.

            But then it was time to say goodbye and to get on with other items on my agenda.   

  

Shopping…

A bus from Wellington Road took me straight to Oxford Street where I found the side entrance to Mark sand Sparks—exactly the place I was seeking. I was in and out in a jiffy as I knew exactly what I wanted: my year’s supply of cotton undies. And from the Food Hall in the basement, two bars of their scrumptious Battenburg Cake which Llew and I love. Excess Baggage or not, I am going to have the room and the weight allowance for these!

An Errand at Victoria:

From the same bus stop at which I had alighted, I jumped into the 82 bus then headed to Victoria as I had a small errand to accomplish. I have been commissioned the submission of an essay on the new Shakespeare portrait that was unearthed a few years ago in Ireland and which is now considered the only definitive portrait for which he actually posed in his lifetime—and therefore, the most authentic likeness we have of him.  

A few days ago, when passing in a bus, I had spied the use of this portrait on the sign post of The Shakespeare Pub at Victoria and since I wish to illustrate my essay with a picture to indicate that this portrait is now so widely acknowledged as Shakespeare’s own that even pubs are using it, I wished to take pictures of it.          

So with my camera carefully recording it, I composed my pictures from all sides of this corner pub and when I was satisfied with the quality of my pix, I hopped on to the Tube at Victoria and headed for my favorite part of London. I got off at Holland Park and found my way to the entrance from the North side—I usually approach it from the Kensington side.

The walk from the South side approach was lovely—flowers were in full bloom in the gardens and the shady paths that led to the center were just delightful on this particularly temperate morning in London.   

Lingering in my Favorite Spot in London:

            So knowing London as well as I do, I guess if someone had to ask me what my favorite spot in the entire city is, I would answer without a second’s hesitation. So it was somewhat inexplicable, even to me, that I had not yet found the time to linger there until my second-last day in the city. I will keep you out of suspense by disclosing that what I mean is the amazing Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. I mean where else in a city would you see masses of azaleas blooming in vivid colors in the spring? Where could you tune the rest of the world right out as you listened to the soothing sounds of a tumbling cascade accumulating foamy water in a rock pool filled with giant koi? Where could you linger as peacocks, yes peacocks, came to say Hello and rewarded you with glimpses of their stunning tail feathers? Where could you pause to appreciate the calming qualities of Zen minimalist landscaping design? I have done all of the above in the gardens that were gifted to the UK by the Government of Japan. It amazes me that this place is not mobbed—but thank goodness it isn’t. I have the happiest memories of whiling away the hours grading my students’ papers on the stone benches of this garden while glancing occasionally at herons darting into the pool. I also have happy memories of introducing Chriselle to this memorable spot—a spot she too grew to love—as we chased peacocks for pictures on the park’s lawns.

            So naturally, I stopped there to relive those happy memories at the fag end of my London stay. I nibbled on my lunch—Carluccio’s take-out offerings. Savoring them quietly, I paused to give thanks for a brilliant month that will always remain in my memory as a marvelous time for self-reflection and self-growth in a city I adore.

           

Reliving the Romance of a TV Show:

            Then, because I was in Holland Park, I left the Kyoto Gardens behind me and arrived in the Orangery. The Belvedere Restaurant by Marco Pierre White, one of London’s best-regarded chefs, was right beside me. Since I hadn’t clicked any pictures from the terrace on the evening I was at the party thrown by my friends the Harveys, three weeks ago, I asked permission of the receptionist to do so this time. She readily agreed and up I went to the terrace which overlooks the formal Italianate Garden in which key scenes from my favorite TV show of all time were shot: As Time Goes By. This is the scene in which a young Lionel Hardcastle (Geoffey Palmer) meets a young Jean Pargiter (Judi Dench) for the first time and asks her the way to Curzon Street. I clicked a few pictures there as well as ones of the bench on which Jean pauses during her lunch break when she encounters a breathless jogger.

Yes, yes, I know I am quite quite hopeless when it comes to ATGB so you must forgive me my idiosyncratic excesses; but coming to Holland Park is always for me, a pilgrimage of sorts in the same way that Beatles devotees go to the crosswalk on Abbey Road and pose for pic there. See the similarity? So I am not that cracked after all, right?

More Shopping:

            Using the more conventional exit by which I USUALLY leave Holland Park, I arrived at Kensington High Street. This gave me the opportunity to check out a couple of thrift stores before I crossed the street and went to Waitrose to buy my stock of Ainsley Herriot powdered soups that are a staple in the Almeida household and much loved by Llew and me. With a dozen packets in my possession, I left my favorite pantry in the world and hopped on a bus again.

Off to Buy A ‘Stick’:

I rode it all the way to Bloomsbury as the next item on my To-Do List was buying myself a good quality umbrella from James and Co. at Bloomsbury, one of the oldest ‘stick’ shops in the country. Indeed it was in business at a time when gentlemen carried walking sticks—then a most fashionable accessory. Today with walking sticks no longer de rigeur, the shop sells umbrellas and very expensive ones too with fancy carved handles, real crocodile skin embellishment and sturdy frames as only the English can make them. I was fed up of the el cheapo Japanese ones that bend at the slightest sign of a wind so procuring a good umbrella was on my list.

            Alas, I did not find one that was pretty enough for my liking. I particularly wanted one with beige tones to match my Burberry trench raincoat and not finding anything appealing enough, I sadly walked out of the store empty handed. Perhaps on my next trip to London, I shall find the right one for which I will not mind forking out 100 pounds or more!

An Errand at NYU and the Post Office:

            Well, at that point my day went downhill. I decided to stop briefly at NYU to find out how much I owed for the mailing of my printed material to the States only to find that my box was still sitting in the mail room and hadn’t been send off. This meant an unexpected trudge to the Post Office at Holborn with Mark, our porter, to get rates and when we discovered how expensive it was to ship by surface through Royal Mail, we balked and decided to use the courier service instead.

So we trudged back to Bedford Square and Mark promised me that the parcel will be couriered first thing on Monday. I can only hope all my books, notes and other research material will reach me intact and soon.

Tea with Roz:

            It was almost 5,00 pm and I was late by half an hour for my cuppa with my friend Roz on Tottenham Court Road. I had left my jacket at her home in Battersea and she had kindly brought it to work for me to pick up. We planned to have a cuppa for the last time before my departure and seeing how distressed I was over my parcel, she marched me off to Yumcha for a pot of Chelsea Chai. And sitting and chatting with her and laughing at little things as we often do, my distress became a thing of the past. It was just wonderful to sit in (yet another) coffee shop and shoot the breeze with one of my dearest friends in London—probably for a very long time to come.

Home Finally:

            I said goodbye to Roz, got on the Tube at Goodge Street and headed back to Amen Court. I had wanted a short rest before I left for my evening’s dinner appointment, but the NYU wild good chase had delayed me. So all I had time to do was freshen up and change and leave the house again for my 6. 45 pm appointment with Bande Hassan, Llew’s former colleague and now close family friend.

Dinner with a Dear Friend:

            I took the Tube to Marble Arch and met him at Portman Square as decided and we strolled the couple of block to the London Hilton Hotel where the famous Italian restaurant Locanda Locatelli is located. We were soon joined by Kiran, yet another of his invitees, and then we gave ourselves up to the fun and relaxation of a great evening in superb company with amazing cuisine. Service, as befits a great restaurant, was impeccable and my red prawn risotto with zucchini flowers were perfect. For dessert I had a chocolate fondant with a pistachio sauce center served with “milk ice-cream” while also nibbling on the selection of sorbets ordered for the table: passionfruit and apricot, strawberry, apple. Delightful! Indeed, Locanda Locatleli does not have its great reputation for nothing and we were fully satisfied.

            It was about 10.00 pm, when I bid goodbye to my host and thanked him for his generosity. He and Kiran walked me to the Tube and I was home by 10. 15 pm and in bed by 11.00 after what had been a day of purposeful agenda completion—but above all, a chance to meet my London friends without whom my stays in this city are simply not the same. I had started and ended my day with good friends and to me that was made it exceptional.

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!