Final Day in London: Museums, Theater, Slap-Up Dinner

Saturday, July 18, 2015: London

Fitting Final Features Into Our Last Full Day in London:

            And so it dawned! Our sad final day in London because all great things must come to an end. We awoke to finish up packing and dividing the weight we had acquired into the four suitcases we are allowed between the two of us by our airline. A quick breakfast of coffee and cereal in order to help us finish our supplies in the fridge, saw us shower and dress and leave. The first item on our agenda was getting to the Savoy Theater in the Strand in the West End to pick up day tickets to see Gypsy.

 Off to Pick Up Tickets for Gypsy:

            We resolved to get out of the flat in Holborn by 9. 30 am in order to be at the theater at 10.00 am when day tickets are distributed for most London plays at a considerable discount and much cheaper than rates at the TKTS stand at Leicester Square. A brisk walk to Fleet Street to jump into the No. 15 Routemaster …and within minutes we were outside the Savoy Hotel that has recently undergone a massive renovation. Just outside is the Savoy Theater and it was to its Box office that we were headed. We got there at 9. 50 am and had a 10 minute wait with about 6 folks ahead of us in the queue.

            It is hard to believe that with the huge number of items on our program on this visit, we had not yet been to the theater. And with the vast number of offerings around plus the fact that we had not pre-booked, making a choice was easy. I thought a musical would be far better than pure drama—more entertaining, more of a range of talent on display. Neither one of us had seen Gypsy before—a saga about the entertainer Gypsy Rose Lee set on the West coast of America. What sold me on the show as the presence of British thespian Imelda Staunton whom I have seen on the screen (Vera Drake) and on the stage before in Joe Orton’s Entertaining Mr. Sloan at the Trafalgar Studios a couple of years ago in London. In my humble opinion, she has the caliber of a Judi Dench or a Maggie Smith and it is only the lack of a truly breakout show so far that has not catapulted her into international stardom.  I was certain that a show that headlined this actress could never be anything other than outstanding. Besides, the show had Peter Davison in a lead role too—he is the darling Tristan of the TV series All Creatures Great and Small and in more recent years, we have seen him on TV in The Last Detective.  Two great stars. How could we go wrong? When we snagged two tickets, ten minutes later, at the bargain price of 25 pounds each for 70 pound seats, our joy knew no bounds.

In Search of Oscar:

            With tickets under our belt for the 2. 30 pm matinee show, we had the time to saunter across The Strand to the National Portrait Gallery. But before we arrived there, I had another small mission to accomplish. Our friend Barbara and our hostess for our stay in London had set me a challenge: she expected me to go out and find the bench/chaise longue/sarcophagus (depending on how you want to look at it) of 19^th century playwright and dandy Oscar Wilde which was somewhere on Adelaide Street. When she explained to me where I would find it, I knew exactly where to look.

And five minutes later, we came upon it on a side street just behind the Church of St. Martin-In-The-Fields. We took our pictures with Oscar who is sculpted in rather gruesome vein to allow varied interpretation: he could be emerging from his own coffin to enter into conversation with anyone who would care to share cerebral space with him—a convenient bench, as it were, is attached to his bust to enable just such an objective.  Llew did the honors—taking pictures of me facing Mr. Wilde for the sculpture is entitled “In Conversation with Oscar Wilde”. That done, we headed off.

Mission Well Accomplished! Barbara would receive a tweeted version of one of the pix as soon as wifi connections permitted.

 Re-Visiting Members of the Bloomsbury Group at the National Portrait Gallery:

            Ever since I finished reading Priya Parmar’s excellent book Vanessa And Her Sister, I had a little secret item on my Wish List for my next visit to London. Her book had caught me up so profoundly with the lives of the members of the Bloomsbury Group that I had resolved to visit the home at No. 51 Gordon Square where the famous Thursday Evening meetings were held for several years by the sisters, Virginia and Vanessa Stevens—later Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell. Close friends who happened to share intellectual interests that included literature, art, biography, history and economics, their interconnections were cemented by their marriages and intimate relationships with each other—some heterosexual, many gay. I had visited the 20^th century galleries at the National Portrait Gallery before but since we had not found the time to get to Gordon Square on this visit, I was keen to re-visit these figures through the portraits that were produced of them by their own friends.

            When I told Llew of my mission, he was game to accompany me—and we set off straight for the first floor to the galleries that deal with Britain around the period of World War I. There they were—all my favorite writers (E.M. Forster, Virginia Woolf, Lytton Strachey) and there were their portraits by their own friends (Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell, Dora Carrington). Re-visiting this gallery gave us the opportunity to examine other portraits from the period and I was pleasantly surprised to come upon a sculpted bust of Nehru by Jacob Epstein—not the most complimentary representation but it was a master sculptor’s work.

            On the lower floor, I led Llew to the controversial portrait of Katherine Middleton, now the Duchess of Cambridge, by Paul Elmsley that has drawn so much flak for the aged, grey-faced, almost ugly woman he has depicted. Llew was not impressed. We also looked at Bhupen Khakar’s portrait of Salman Rushdie and some new photographic portraits of the Queen taken at her Diamond Jubilee. Finally, we ended our visit by examining a selection of portraits of National Portrait Gallery’s Director Roy Strong who has donned costumes and had his pictures taken in depictions of famous paintings. When we had seen enough, we used the rest rooms and then raced off again.

 A Highlights Tour of the National Gallery:

      No marks for guessing where we were next headed! How can I possibly leave London without going to the National Gallery and saying Hello to all my favorite friends? It is simply a no-brainer. Since it was nearing 11. 30 am, it made sense to take the hour-long Highlights Tour that starts from the Sainsbury Wing of the Museum. It gave me a few minutes to browse in the gift shop before joining a group of about 15 people to listen to the docent introduce himself and begin his tour. Llew and I took the elevator to the second floor where most tours begin and for the next one hour, we gave ourselves up entire to the expertise of the guide who took us chronologically through the following paintings:

1.      Carlo Crivelli: The Annunication with St. Emidius (1486). I discovered the talent and work of Crivelli at the National Gallery several years ago and have been enchanted by him ever since. A Venetian Renaissance artist, he was banished by the Establishment for apparent homosexual leanings. Hence, his work remains practically unknown and certainly unseen even in Italy. The National Gallery has an outstanding collection of his canvases, each more stunning than the next, for the multiplicity of symbols, the plethora of detail and the astounding realism that he brings to his subjects. I adore his work and was absolutely delighted that Llew got a chance to see one of his works as well.

2.      History of the Wohl Room (Gallery 9—1911). The guide used this splendidly decorated central room in the Museum to tell us a bit about the history of the National Gallery and its acquisitions.   

3.      Joachim Beuckelaer: The Four Elements—Earth (1560s, Antwerp). In a round room in the Museum, four works by Beuckelaer find a perfect permanent place. I have also always adored these Flemish paintings for their realism and abundance of detail. They represent the four elements by providing still lifes of items associated with them. For example, Earth is a representation of fruit and vegetable in all their appetizing detail; Air is a reproduction of birds and game fowl;  Fire is a representation of meat that is cooked through the use of fire before being consumed; and Water takes us into the deep—to the abundance of finned life that provides sustenance at our tables. The guide focused on Earth and only drew the attention of the audience to the other three paintings at the end of his commentary. I wished he had done so sooner as visitors could well have looked at them too as the room is very compact and could easily encourage comparison.

4.      Anthony Van Dyke: Lord John Stuart and His Brother Lord Bernard Stuart (About 1638). This lovely double portrait presents the sons of Charles I—the Heir standing slightly taller than his brother, the Spare! Both brothers fought on the Royalist side in the Civil War and were killed. We had seen a smaller version of a double portrait of them at Highclere Castle, two days previously. Not just renowned for his mastery of portraiture, Van Dyke being a Flemish artist was also neutral in his portrayal of English royalty.

5.      Anthony Van Dyke: Portrait of Charles I. Just besides the portrait of his sons is the famous huge equestrian one of Charles I himself also by Van Dyke—again, a similar one is in the Dining Room at Highclere Castle and we had admired it only very recently.

6.      Gallery 36—The Main Domed Room. The guide spoke about the elaboration of the interior decoration in this room and although he did not point to any paintings, he did talk about the stature that the National Gallery enjoys internationally and the manner in which it sees its mission to bring an awareness of quality paintings to the world.

7.      William Hogarth: Marriage A La Mode (1743). This series of 6 paintings is almost like a series of cartoons in that Hogarth pokes fun of the custom of marrying for money rather than for love. The guide focused on just one of them but referred to all six in passing and explained Hogarth’s penchant for satire through Art.

8.      Claude Monet: Bathers a La Grenouilliere (1869). The tour ended with a visit to the Impressionist section and a work by Monet in which I learned why the lake in which the bathers are seen taking a dunk is referred to as a frog-pond (La Grenouilliere in French). It turns out that it is a reference to the three women depicted hazily in the paintings and wearing the latest fashion in bathing suits—suits cut daringly to reveal their calves! They were, therefore, thought to resemble frogs—which is why the pool they swam in came to be known as the frog-pond! Hey, live and learn. Each time I take a guided art tour I learn something new—which is why they never fail to fascinate me.

It was a very good and a very satisfying hour indeed. But I simply could not leave the National Gallery without saying Hello to my favorite painting of them all: Courtyard of a House in Delft by Pieter de Hooch. Taking directions from a guard, we found it in Gallery 28 right besides the Vermeers and yet not in the slightest bit eclipsed by it.  But by 12. 30 pm, I was ravenous and ready to eat something urgently. I have realized that ignoring my hunger pangs only leads to a headache and I wanted to avoid that. I, therefore, led Llew down to the Gallery Café for one of my favorite of English treats: a slice of Coffee Walnut Cake. Llew did not wish to eat cake at mid-day and opted to simply watch me relish mine He decided to pick up a more substantial lunch somewhere down the road.

 Off to Flanders Field Memorial Garden:

            There was little time to spare after I had gobbled up my cake—we were meeting one of my former NYU students, Kent, who is now a friend of mine and someone I see almost every time I come to London. Kent, who has worked for Lloyds Bank in London for about five years, is returning to Hongkong to join his father’s business. Hence, he was particularly keen that we should meet this time as it is not certain when we will meet again.

            I chose the Guards Museum on Birdcage Walk for our meeting as I was keen to see the Flanders Field Memorial Garden that adjoins it. It was inaugurated by the Queen last year to coincide with the centenary of the outbreak of World War I in 1914. Somehow I expected it to me much larger and more elaborate than it turned out to be.

Llew and I rushed into the Tube at Charing Cross with the idea of making a connection to the District or Circle Line only to discover that weekend track work had disrupted the service (as it is wont to do). With no time to waste, we hailed a black cab and made it to the venue to find Kent waiting for us. Llew has also heard a lot about Kent from me and was happy to meet him for the first time. We spent the next hour with Kent as we inspected the Garden and took pictures of it. Named for the famous poem, “In Flanders Field the Poppies Blew” by John McCray, it comprises a large disc that has the entire poem engraved around it. This is a poem that every British school kid knows by heart—it is heart breaking and it is especially significant for me as I have followed the Poppy Trail in Picardy, France, and have seen how, to this day, poppies continue to bloom in the fields where trenches were once dug to conceal enemy troops and where an entire generation of young men was lost to the genocide that is warfare.             

We then walked at a leisurely pace to Parliament Square which was just buzzing with tourists on a particularly gorgeous day. It is amazing how towards the end of our stay the weather came through brilliantly for us and made our sauntering memorable. At Whitehall, we jumped into a bus that would sail down The Strand and bring us to the Savoy Theater just in time for a quick bite of lunch before our 2. 30 matinee show of Gypsy. We chose EAT as the most convenient place for pies and a sandwich and throughout this time, we chatted with Kent about his future plans. But by 2. 20, we bid him goodbye and raced across the street to the Savoy Theater.

Watching Gypsy—An Outstanding Musical:

            And what a fantastic three hours followed for us! In every sense of the word, the show was outstanding and Imelda Staunton was simply phenomenal. In what turned out to be a lovely story of the arduous nature of showbiz life, the hopes and dreams of one mother for her brood of kids, her complicated relationship with her agent (played by Davison) and her more complicated relationship with her daughters, June (Gemma Sutton) and Louise (Lara Pulver), the show kept us riveted. Staunton is truly a woman of multiple talents and while I had little doubt about her dramatic powers, her ability to sing and dance the way she did on stage simply blew me away. The house was packed, our seats were fabulous, Llew loved every second of it as much as I did and between the two of us, we were simply thrilled to have seen such a quality show and been so unexpectedly enthralled by it. Since there was only one show we had the time to see on this visit, we were besides ourselves to have caught this one.

Taking the Bus to see The Shard:

     There was one last thing we had to do before we returned home to shower, dress and get ready for our dinner appointment: I was keen to take Llew over to the South Bank so that he could see one of the newest attractions on the London skyline, The Shard. This is the conical tower that juts out into the sky on the South Bank. Viewing the city from its observation deck is a pricey business and we had no intentions of getting up there. However, it was worth jumping off the bus at St. Paul’s, crossing Wobbly Bridge (the Millennium Bridge) and getting closer to the skyscraper. Llew was glad to have done so but did not want to spend any more time on the South Bank. So we simply walked back through Paternoster Square to take a bus to High Holborn that got us there in 15 minutes.

 A Slap-Up Dinner at Simpson’s-On-The-Strand:

            I have wanted to dine at Simpson’s ever since I heard about it through an episode of As Time Goes By on TV. But I also knew that it was a fancy, fine-dining kind of place that called for jackets in the Dining Hall. This meant that I would need to wait for Llew to arrive in London with me to be able to enjoy its offerings.

            Simpsons, it turns out, is also a bit of a London institution. It was originally opened in 1828 as a chess club in Piccadilly (where the Waterstone’s Bookshop is currently located). Since it was thought unwise to disturb chess games while in progress, it was decided to bring roast meats to the tables in silver-domed wheeled trolleys—a tradition that continues to this day.

            I had made a reservation for 7. 30 pm and we arrived just a few minutes after a lovely stroll from home to the restaurant on an evening that was made for walking. Seated at a table for four, we studied the brief menu and came to our decisions. We were taking our hosts Tim and Barbara for dinner and as Llew studied the wine list and chose a bottle of red Cabernet for the table, we made our choices. Barbara had the potted shrimp, Tim the sweetbreads  for starters while Llew and I decided to skip a starter and go directly to the main. With the compliments of the chef,  however, the waiter brought us demi-tasse cups of a chilled gazpacho that was absolutely divine—how thoughtful! Our guests both chose the Dover Sole for their main while Llew went for the Stuffed Pork Tenderloin and I chose the Roast Saddle of Lamb—I, therefore, had the privilege of being served table-side by a master carver who skillfully cut slices off a joint of meat and placed them on my plate together with redcurrant jelly and mint sauce. They came with superbly roasted potatoes and savoy cabbage. Everything was simply scrumptious. We all passed on dessert but ordered cups of coffee instead and with the conversation around the table never flagging for a single moment, we had a truly nice evening with our warm and generous hosts whose company we also thoroughly enjoy.

            It was still lovely outside as we walked through the West End’s theater lights and billboards for the short walk home. All that was left was to bid our hosts goodnight and goodbye as we had a very early start the next morning and would not be disturbing them as we sneaked out of their flat.

            The day had been very full but very exciting and it had ended on the nicest possible note. As always, we were sorry to leave London, but we had crowned an unforgettable safari in Africa with a splendid stay in our favorite city and we were not sorry to be returning home.

            As we finalized our packing, tidied, cleared and cleaned our room and bathroom and undertook the last-minute chores we needed to complete before our departure, we agreed that it was a week superbly spent and that it could not possibly have gone any better.

            Thanks for following me once again on this incredible summer tour of Africa and the UK. Although writing this journal is something I do as much for my own pleasure as or those who read it, I am always aware that you have a busy schedule and that you do me the honor of sharing some part of your day with me as you armchair-travel in my company. For that I am truly grateful.

Until I don my traveling shoes again, I say Cheerio!   

Thames Path Walk from Putney to Hammersmith And Fun Times with Friends

Friday, July 17, 2015:

The Thames Path Walk from Putney to Hammersmith and Fun Times with Friends

            On yet another pre-dawn rising, I awoke to the discovery that the cold that had plagued me for the past three days was history. It left residual signs of a cough behind, but, for the most part, my familiar high-energy levels returned and I was ready to rock and roll. And good job too! For the day promised glorious sunshine and perfect mid-summer temps—read no humidity and the coolest of breezes playing off the river.

Morning Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral:

            With the sun shining down on High Holborn outside my window, it seemed like the perfect morning to leave Llew at his lie-in and get to St. Paul’s Cathedral for Mass—something I did want to fit in on this trip. By 7.40 am, I climbed into casuals and rode the elevator downstairs. When a No.8 arrived, in a couple of minutes, I hopped right into it, and within five minutes, I was in St. Paul’s Cathedral where I have worshipped at daily Mass on countless occasions. In the little side Chapel, there were just 2 other folks when I arrived and within five minutes. Mass began—said, as it is done apparently every Friday—by the Bishop of London, Richard Chartres, whom I have had the privilege of meeting on a couple of occasions in the past through my friend Bishop Colclough (not that I expected him to remember me at all!).

Still, it felt odd to attend a Mass at which I was one of four members in the congregation. Later on, after Mass began, a couple of black women joined in, but it was a very quiet service indeed although beautifully said by the Bishop. For me, being at Mass in this beloved church, was an opportunity to thank the Lord yet again for the gift of my health and for bringing me again to my most beloved of cities.

              Outside, on the Square, Life raced on as office-goers clutching their coffees, entered corporate buildings to begin their day. I took the bus back for two stops and joined Llew, who had awoken for Brekkie of Sainsbury Fruit and Nut Muesli with Yogurt and coffee. We showered, got dressed and left High Holborn for the Tube ride to Putney Bridge for we were going to mess about on the river. At Putney, which is essentially a part of the city of London although it was once thought of as the countryside, the river takes on a countrified air and the suburbs that embrace its banks are upper crust: Hammersmith, Barnes, Chiswick, Kew, and finally the ritziest of them all, Richmond. The Plan of Action was to get to Putney and then start the stroll along the Thames Path all the way to Richmond—approximately 10 miles. From Richmond, we would take the Tube back home. Llew was game: we both donned comfortable walking shoes, our hats, carried bottles of water and we were off. This was something I had never done before—so I was doubly glad to have Llew’s company and to share the river with him.

Thames Path Walk from Putney to Hammersmith:

            So we Tubed it to Putney and using a local map at the Tube station, found our way to the River Thames. There is a Thames Tow Path on the opposite side but it is not as accessible as the Thames Path which provides for both walkers and cyclists. Although the walk we were roughly following started on the opposite side, we chose to stroll along the bank that passed by Bishop’s Garden and Fulham Palace. If one were to walk on the opposite bank, one would come across a plaque marking the start of the famous annual Oxford VS Cambridge Boat Race.

            As it turned out, we found ourselves walking on one of the loveliest pathways we could have taken. It was asphalted and lined by enormous London plane trees that were probably planted in the 1700s when the Embankments were built—walled and lined with brick to prevent flooding. The trees create marvelous dappled shade as their branches spread their embracing arms out to the sky. In-between each grand plane tree, there were fruit trees that were laden with sweet small stoned fruit that tasted plum-like: a cross between cherries and plums. I put a few dark red ones in my mouth and they were delicious but then because I could not really identify the fruit, I stopped eating—the last thing I wanted was to be poisoned!

Bishop’s Garden:

            Bishop’s Garden is so-called because it borders the property belonging to the Bishops of Fulham who once occupied Fulham Palace which was the official residence of the Bishop of London. We were delighted to find the Garden well-used mainly by toddlers and their mothers who had brought them out to enjoy a particularly fabulous day. There were amusement areas with swings and sliders and see-saws. There were sand pits where kids were hard at work building castles. In one part of the garden, there were fountains and a sand bank so kids could pretend they were at the beach. They could fill their pails with water, wet the sand with it and create more sand pies. The entire operation was a delight to observe. Loads of dogs and their walkers bounded along, there were strollers like us and there were joggers and cyclists. Londoners were making the most of a lovely day and getting some fresh air and exercise in the process.

Fulham Palace:

            As we walked, we noticed Barnes' London Wetland Center on the opposite bank—evident by the lush green plantings that line the Thames Bank. On our side, there was the entrance to Fulham Palace which I had visited a few years ago when my friend Shahnaz and her daughter Azra were in London from Bombay at the same time that I was. We had taken the Tube and buses to get to the Palace entrance. This time, Llew and I walked in through the lovely Tudor Gateways and across the shallow dry moat to enter the property. Built in the Tudor period, the old buildings that comprise the Palace are merely a museum today. The gardens are open for the pleasure of passers-by and we stepped in to use the rest rooms as well as take in the two rooms that were once the Library and Drawing Room of the Bishops who had occupied the building. We walked out into the sunshine to enjoy purple wisteria vines climbing the burnt brown Tudor walls. There were lots of opportunities to take pictures in a lovely brick courtyard with its fountain and its urns filled with summer’s hydrangeas.

            Leaving Fulham Palace behind us, we continued along the Thames Path. The banks were soon lined with yuppie blocks of flats with glass panes offering uninhibited views of the river. And what views they were too! In the distance, we could already see the green expanse of ornamental Hammersmith Bridge spanning the river which at low tide had distinct beaches on both sides. There were dozens of crew on the river practicing their oarsmanship. There was also abundant bird life and we saw ducks of every kind. And every so often we heard planes flying low overhead. This made us realize that were definitely on the Heathrow Flight Path and I could quite understand that because I have had dozens of sightings of the Thames’ bridges upon take off or landing into Heathrow and it is always the Thames that provides for me the point of reference I need to enable me to grasp my location. For example, on landing into Heathrow on this trip, from the aircraft I got a brilliant picture of the Chinese Pagoda in an expanse of green and I knew immediately that we were flying over Kew Gardens because I could also see Hammersmith Bridge from above.

            Occasionally, we had to get off the Thames Path and take an interior detour and when we did so, we added more interest to our wandering. For we passed by beautiful Victorian terraced housing with its lovely exterior carved details that I always find fascinating. We also passed by pubs and tea rooms and coffee shops for the area has been taken over by young London professionals who make a pretty buck or two and are looking for close proximity to the city in their accommodation.

Viewing Harrod’s Depository:

But soon we were back on the river and within sighting distance of Hammersmith. On the opposite bank, we saw the famous Harrods’ Depository that was erected in 1894 in the same golden stone that forms the façade of the department store in Knightsbridge. It was built on the site of a candle factory mainly for the benefit of British families returning from long stints of Empire-building who would store their belongings here and live in a temporary Harrods' flat in the back of the Brompton Road store whilst looking for a permanent home in London. The river frontage is a famous Boat Race landmark and since the building has a silhouette and a color similar to the Knightsbridge store, TV viewers are often confused when the commentator announces that the crews are “passing Harrods”. The outer façade of the building has the words 'furniture', 'Harrdos' and 'upholstery' on it and, oftentimes, orders placed at the Knightsbridge store are dispatched directly from this venue.

Lunch at Food Market at Hammersmith:

Once we arrived at Hammersmith Bridge, we decided to go out in search of lunch. We had been walking for two hours and had covered 5 miles with the various detours we had made en route. We decided at this point to cut our plans short and to leave the Thames Path segment from Hammersmith to Richmond for a future visit to London.
We needed to get something to drink as well as lunch and as we walked away from the river and towards the Hammersmith Tube station which also houses a shopping mall, we noticed large numbers of young folk carrying take-away food containers with them and heading for the lawns of the Church of St. Paul at Hammersmith. I inquired of one group of office-goers and he directed me to “a big food market just around the corner”. We dodged traffic around the islands of Hammersmith and found the Food Market in the plaza outside the Kings Mall. As we surveyed the offerings, we were stunned: every kind of takeaway ethnic meal was available. We had a choice of Polish kielbasa sausage on a roll, Jamaican jerk chicken, Argentinian empanadas, Indo-Pak rice and various curries, Chinese noodles, Vietnamese pho, Korean barbecue, German bratwurst, Greek souvlakis—you name it, they had it. We decided to get a large serving of the Mediterranean Mezze Luncheon which had a little bit of everything: Zaatar Chicken flavored with sumac served over couscous with every kind of sauce poured over it: tahini (sesame paste), lebnez (spicy yogurt sauce), cucumber tzasiki, chick peas, a bean salad, olives and pomegranate salad, dolmas (rice stuffed vine leaves). We bought a can of Diet Coke and taking our heavy food offerings with us to the gardens at St. Paul’s Church, we found ourselves a lovely place to picnic on a day that was made for enjoying the sunshine.

Since Hammersmith Mall was so conveniently located, we walked into M&S to do some food shopping as well as into Sainsbury and then laden again with our buys, we took the Tube home to relieve ourselves of the load. Back home, we decided to take a short nap until our next appointments.

Tea at Peter Jones with Roz:

            I had not yet met one of my closest London friends Rosemary (whom I know as Roz) yet as she had been busy with a conference she was organizing. It was her suggestion that we meet at the café on the top floor of the famous department store called Peter Jones at Sloan Square in Chelsea as she had about two hours to spare before rushing off to her next appointment. Besides, we had a dinner appointment close by with our friends the Colcloughs who lived on Sloan Street—overall, it was the most convenient venue for a natter, a cup of tea and a scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam and I made the most of it.

            Roz was waiting by the splendid picture windows in the rooftop cafes when we got there. We admired the view for a while taking in the domes and spires of well-known landmarks that seemed near enough to touch. We picked up lovely pots of tea—a most civilized way of serving the beverage and somewhat unknown in the States—and sat down for a long catch up. Time simply flew and with Llew around, a rare appendage, he was a very avid part of the conversation as well. But soon it was time to leave and Roz hightailed it off to her next appointment.

I left Llew on a bench watching shoppers at Sloan Square as I hurried off to Waitrose on The King’s Road for more food supplies to carry back to the US and about half an hour later, the two of us were walking to our next port of call.

Dinner with the Colcloughs:

            We were ringing the bell at Grosvenor Court not too long after and had a lovely and very affectionate reunion with our friends Bishop Michael and his wife Cynthia dressed nattily in a Singaporean sarong kebaya. As Michael had recently recovered from surgery, we asked after his health. They suggested we take a walk in the garden downstairs for their building is one that surrounds Cadogan Square (coincidentally this is exactly the venue in which my American friends the Hardings had once spent several years in London). The gardens were fully laden with blooms and we enjoyed the agapanthus, tall hollyhocks, roses, fragrant bushels of lavender. We passed by the tennis courts and walked beneath the giant spreading trees that give the squares and their gardens so much character in London.

            And then we were back home enjoying wine and a G&T for me and sitting to one of Cynthia’s typically English meals: excellent Shepherd’s Pie with vegetable slaw and for dessert, there was Eton Mess: that interesting English concoction of fresh strawberries, crumbled meringues and cream or ice-cream which we enjoyed with coffee. During the evening, we were joined by the Colclough boys, Edward and Aidan, both up and coming lawyers, and in catching up with them, we had a most interesting time among some of our fondest London friends.

            It was way past 10.30 pm, when we left to walk to Knightsbridge Tube station to return home to High Holborn and at 11. 00 pm, we called it a night. Our stay in London was swiftly drawing to an end and with just one more day and night to go before we departed, we were determined to cram it well with all the things we wished to accomplish.

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!     

Spending A Day at Downton Abbey: Highclere Castle, Bampton & Wolvercote

Thursday, July 16, 2015:

Hightailing it Off to Highclere Castle---and Bampton ---and Wolvercote, near Oxford!

            I have wanted to visit Highclere Castle for years—at least five years—and finally the day had dawned when we would make yet another dream come true! The sprawling estate is the setting of the fictional world of Downton Abbey to which Llew and I have become attached over the past five years. Occupied over the centuries by the families of the Earls of Carnavron, it became the preferred location site for the series because writer Julian Fellows happened to be a friend of the current Earl. After having successfully produced Gosford Park, set on another English country estate, he always hoped that his next venture would be set in Highclere. The opportunity presented itself when he launched Downton. No one ever dreamed it would become the runaway global megahit it became—but it has put Highclere Castle on the map and saved the ageing building from decline. Revenue that has poured in since the current aristocrats opened the doors of their home to the public is being ploughed back into the estate and I was pleased to be a party to its redemption.

            However, getting to Highclere Castle is a nightmare if you do not own a set of wheels. I had done a lot of research to try to find a way to get there by public coach from Victoria in London; but coaches go at odd hours and stop in faraway Newbury from where the tourist is expected to take a taxi to get to the estate. Furthermore, all available online tickets for the entire summer season had been sold out. I had entered into correspondence with the estate office and been informed that if I were to arrive at the Box Office by 10.00 am, there was a chance I could purchase a few of the “limited number of day tickets” that are made available for entry into the house no earlier than 2.00 pm. However, there were no guarantees—and the visitor arriving without a ticket takes his/her chances.  

            This was where my loyal and very accommodating friend Bash comes in. Over the years. readers of this blog would have become familiar with his name—for he has gamely chauffeured me to faraway reaches all over the English countryside—from Leeds and Hever Castles in Kent to Hidcote Manor Gardens in Oxfordshire and Wisley Royal Gardens outside London. Because he is an easy conversationalist, he is also charming company. While in the past we have taken driving excursions together, this time Llew would be joining us, of course. Bash also informed me that he would be bringing a friend with him—someone with whom he had just become acquainted. She turned out to be a woman named Chandrika and having awoken early, gulped down a cup of coffee, taken the Tube from Holborn in order to meet him in North London outside Northholt Tube station, it was here that we would meet both him and Chandrika.   

Driving to and Arriving in ‘Downton’:

            The drive to Highclere Castle took us approximately one and a half hours. It is clearly signposted after Newbury on the A34 and time flew swiftly as we discussed a number of topics. By the time we arrived at the Castle grounds, it was just before 10.00 am. Bash drove the car into the wide sweep of driveway leading to the main door from where we received our first glimpses of the lovely regal building comprising Highclere Castle designed by Charles Barry in the mid-1800s. If the spires that jut out of the turrets from the four corners of the main tower seem to you to resemble the Houses of Parliament in London, it is because Barry designed them too!

            While we were parking, the parking assistant assured us that there was no need to run—“there are loads of tickets”, he said. I was aghast. Why then had we been made to believe that they were near-impossible to get? Why are they not made available online? What’s the point of putting off a whole lot of visitors who might not be willing to take their chances? I was baffled.

            Anyway, we picked up tickets for 18 pounds each—they included access to the House, Gardens and the Special Exhibition on the Search For and the Finding Of the Tomb of Tutankhamun which had been accomplished by the Fifth Earl of Carnavron in 1922 through his patronage of the archaeologist Howard Carter. Having seen the entire collection of Tutankhamun treasures at the National Museum of Cairo in Egypt, a few years ago, we thought it would be terrific to revisit the hoard.

Visiting ‘Downtown Abbey’:

            As it turned out, our tickets were marked for a 10. 40 am entry. This meant that we were basically the second batch of visitors entering the Castle for the day. We queued up with a bunch of other guests at the main door (often featured in the series as the spot where visitors come in and leave to a reception or send-off from the entire Downstairs staff). Once inside the small foyer, we were ushered to the left and informed repeatedly that photography and videotaping is strictly prohibited in the House—outside one is free to take any number of pictures. This probably has to do with the fact that the current Earl and his family still continue to live at Highclere and the upstairs bedrooms are occupied by them and their guests year-round.

            The first room you enter is the “Double Library” that any fan of DA will instantly recognize. It is the spot at which Lord Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) is often seen attending to his business affairs, meeting with Chief of Staff Carson or bending down to stroke his yellow lab Isis. There are guides in each room ready, willing and able to answer questions and we asked several. Laminated handouts, also available in each room, provide details about the most significant decorative elements in the rooms—such as paintings above fireplaces, or embroidered panels (as we saw in the smaller library). The Larger room that comprises the library is equally interesting: architecturally and from the point of view of Downton locations. As Llew and I walked through the rooms at our leisure, we commented frequently on our recognition of special corners of the house. And as if to remind us continually that this is not Downton Abbey but actually Highclere Castle where a real, non-fictional family live, there are countless family pictures of the current Lord and Lady of the Manor and their children, pets and relatives scattered all over the house. The tour wound its way to the Living Room also seen frequently in the series as the spot where the ladies assemble over tea or coffee. It has beautiful soft green furnishings and a few significant paintings.  

            The tour continued up the stairs to the bedrooms that are located around one of the most interesting architectural features I have ever seen in a country manor—the quadrangular central balcony that wraps around the house internally, provides bedrooms on all fours sides and creates corridors through which occupants and servants can access these rooms. Bending down over the balcony, one sees the main Hall called the Salon, also a frequent setting in the series. We peeped into many bedrooms including ones used by the Dowager Countess of Grantham (Maggie Smith) in the series and saw a number of bathrooms—some old, others modernized. Most of the rooms and their furnishing are in fabulous condition considering how much it must cost for the upkeep of such a home and its contents. We were allowed to move along at our leisure and at no point did we feel stressed or hurried. Crowds were great. Most are elderly viewers; most are English; most come to the spot on conducted tours that follow a course that goes through many of the neighboring sites of the series—not just Highclere Castle.

            When we finished viewing the upstairs bedrooms, we descended the beautiful stone staircase with its wooden balustrade.  The upstairs corridors, the bedrooms and the house in general seemed much smaller to me in real life than they do in the series. They also seemed much darker. It is clear that excellent professional lighting in the TV series makes them come alive in a way that is not possible in real life.

            Back on the ground floor, we paused at the Salon to take in the marble fireplaces, the furnishings, etc. and to view still more contemporary photos of the current owners. We then trooped into the last main room—the piece de resistance of the house, its Dining Room. This is where the Granthams are seen eating three times a day: buffet breakfasts, casual lunches, formal dinners. The dining table looked very small and we were informed that it comes with 12 leaves—that can be added depending on the number of diners and that a number of shield-back chairs can also be added at that stage. None of the chairs matched—which I thought was interesting. Of course, in this room, the single most arresting feature is the equestrian painting of King Charles I by Anthony Van Dyke which dominates one wall and is seen in most dining room shots in the series. Flanking it are other portraits by Van Dyke—of the two Stuart brothers, both Royalists who fought on the Cavalier side during the Civil War and ended up killed. There are many other important paintings in this room and we spent a great deal of time here.

 Viewing the Tutankhamun Exhibition at Highclere:

            Finally, because Bash and Chandrika chose not to buy tickets to the Egyptian exhibition, Llew and I made our way “Downstairs” to the labyrinth of corridors that contained the story of the discovery of the Treasures of Tutankhamun in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt—one of history’s most significant finds ever. We learned a lot about the interest in Egypt and in antiquities of the Fifth Earl of Carnavron who had almost given up looking for the Tomb when it was eventually found, quite by chance, just beneath the camp that historians and scholars had set up to find it! We also saw a reproduction of the famous gold and lapis mask of Tutankhamun (we had seen the stunning original in Cairo) as well as the key elements of the discovery: his golden throne, for instance. There were reproductions of the four alabaster Canopic jars containing organs of the young boy-king as well as information on the brass doors that once opened leading discoverers to the inner cavities until they eventually reached the sarcophagus of “King Tut” and found his Mummy concealed within three coffins made of wood, glass and gold respectively. It was truly a fabulous experience to see this all over again—and for anyone who does not have the chance to actually get to Cairo, I could not recommend this exhibition enough. Indeed if you do get to Highclere Castle, do not miss this exhibition—it is worth every cent.

            What this Exhibition taught us was about the mythology related to the Curse of Tutankhamun and its relation to Lord Carnavron. He died within two months (I believe) or soon after learning about the haul’s discovery—hence, although he knew about it before he died, he did not set eyes on its incredible treasures.  He did arrive in Egypt, reached the site in the Valley of the Kings and had a brief glimpse through a keyhole (literally! that is brilliantly reproduced at the Exhibition) of the treasures that lay within. However, shortly afterwards, he was bitten by a mosquito on his right cheek. The bite became aggravated by his morning shaving routine causing an infection that refused to heal. He died shortly after of septisemia—setting in motion the myth of the Mummy’s Curse. What I learned at the exhibition was that the bite on his cheek occurred at the exact spot where the gold plating covering the Mask of Tutankhamun is at its thinnest!  Also interesting is that all the lights suddenly went off in the city of Cairo at precisely the moment when Lord Carnavron died and that his dog in the UK dropped dead quite mysteriously at the same time that his Master died in Egypt. It had the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright!

Lunch at Highclere Castle Tea Rooms:

            By this time, we were famished and ready to eat a horse. It is interesting that there are no period kitchens in this home. They have been modernized a long time ago as the venue is often chosen for weddings, banquets, receptions, etc. Hence, all “Downstairs” scenes in the series are shot on studio sets at Ealing Studios in West London.

            There are, however, very functional kitchens at Highclere that serve the hungry traveler today. Adjoining it is a cozy tea room for traditional cream teas or light lunches. Bash and Chandrika had already eaten by the time we arrived to join them. Llew and I chose the Beef Pasty and the Chicken Breast respectively served with roast potatoes, boiled carrots and peas. It was good hearty English fare and quite tasty for that.

 A Saunter in Highclere’s Gardens:

            Then, because it was still not quite 1.00 pm by this stage we went for a long walkabout on the lawns of the property that comprise the gardens. Set in 1,000 acres of sweeping parkland, the grounds were landscaped by the famed English landscape designer Sir Lancelot “Capability” Brown who introduced the ‘natutral’ aesthetic to English outdoor design. He is responsible for creating the concept of sheep grazing on lawns visible from upstairs windows—and there were loads of sheep dotted all over Highclere’s grounds—in order to introduce the bucolic touch to the surroundings. To prevent sheep from straying too close to the main door, he built a moat called a ‘haha’ into which they would fall and be unable to dig themselves out if they ventured into it. Hence, the soft undulating park spread all around us was his concept.

Dotting this spreading estate are “follies”—and there are 12 on this estate—small architectural curiosities often built in the style of foreign lands to represent fanciful homes from exotic realms. Hence, these are often domed and minareted as in the Islamic vein or pillared and pedimented as in Greek Neo-Classical style. There is also a lovely large screen in the Drawing Room at Highclere comprising paintings of all 12 follies on the property—many of these follies are visible from the windows of the house as one take the tour—hence, it is as important while touring the house to keep peering through the windows outside to take them in as many are perched high on the hills surrounding the house.

            At one of the most accessible follies (nearest the house) built in Greek Neo-Classical style, we joined groups of people who posed for pictures with the house in the background. This is the extent of ‘gardens’ one will find here. There are no herbaceous borders or profuse beds or rose gardens or flower gardens at all. It is merely a walking or strolling garden—the kind in which aristocratic 18^th century ladies preferred to stroll so as to avoid any interaction with the hoi polloi.

 Off to Bampton in Oxfordshire:

            With so much time on our hands and the day shaping up so beautifully as one of those stunning summer ones in England often do, it was only logical that we would use it to drive to Bampton, the tiny Oxfordshire village that is the real-life location for the fictional village of Downton in the series. Supposed to be in Yorkshire somewhere between the towns of Ripon and Thirsk (which are, in turn,  the real-life world of yet another famed British TV series—All Creatures Great and Small), this village is actually much lower south in Oxfordshire and is now firmly on the tourist map—thanks to the popularity of Downton Abbey.

            It took us about an hour to get there from Highclere for without a GPS (or SatNav as it is known in the UK), it is well-nigh impossible to find anything in the countryside unless you have superb directions. We were fortunate to find two people who knew exactly what they were talking about and who led us directly to the little village on the edge of the Cotswolds.

            It is easy to see why filming takes place in this village—first of all, it seems untouched by the hands of time. It is one of those timeless places that could have been built centuries ago—although, truth be told, I noticed that most of the structures were built of the honey-toned Cotswold stone at the turn of the 20^th century and dated from about 1901 to 1910. Secondly, when the light hits these stone walls, the façade seems to acquire a gilded patina which makes for quite brilliant TV backdrops.

            Chandrika chose not to do the Walking Tour with us and Bash chose to keep her company in a pub. Llew and I found our way directly to the Bampton Community Center which is housed in the village Library Building. This building serves as Downton Hospital in the TV series and many of the outdoor scenes associated with Isobel Crawley and her relationship with the tall, handsome doctor, are shot here at the entrance under a very cute stone archway. Inside the building, there is Downton memorabilia—for as their sign clearly points out, there is no Downton Abbey Memorabilia at Highclere Castle—just Highclere trinkets. Here there are keychains, magnets, mugs, postcards and photos to be purchased, but, most useful of all, you can buy a Downton Abbey map for 50p that takes you to all the locations in the village that were used in the series.

            To see all the sites, you need to give it at least two hours: After photographing the Library (Downton’s Hospital), we strolled next door to the house that is used as Matthew and Isobel Crawley’s residence in the series. It has a high wall and a gate surrounding it that prevents anyone venturing into it, but the façade is clearly familiar to fans of the series. Again, we took many pictures at this venue.

            Just next door, in a small traffic island that comprises this area, is the current St. Mary’s Church (renamed as The Church of St. Michael and All Angels in Downton). We walked into the arched stone entrance and up to the church door and then made our way for a spiritual visit to the front. It is at this church altar that Matthew Crawley and Lady Mary are married in the show. Someone was hard at work changing the flower arrangements when we got there and apart from a group of three female visitors, also taking the tour, there was no one in sight.

            Outside in the church yard, where in the series Matthew Crawley is buried, there was a group of noisy American high school kids on a school trip. Their chatter broke the age-old silence of the space but it also contributed some tourist vitality to it. Following the map down Church View Road, we saw the little houses that double up as pubs—The Grantham Arms and The Dog and Duck—in the series. We also entered into conversation with a very friendly man who lives on the same street who shared interesting snippets with us about incidents associated with the shooting. “They’ve been at it for five years now,” he said, “and we have grown accustomed to them.” He told us that The Dog and Duck Pub is a house that belongs to his friend whose exteriors and interiors feature in the film—she gets paid a few hundred pounds for each shooting session, he said. He also told us that the village garbage stand outside her home is converted into a red pillar post box when shooting is on—“they merely place a red pillar box dummy directly over the bin,” he explained, “but people had no idea and actually started posting their mail in there! They had to put a notice informing people that it was not a real post box.”

            So up and down the village we walked—we were charmed not just by its Downton connections but also by the unhurried, calm pace of life in these villages that have always held a particular fascination for me—for at least thirty years when I had first been introduced to Oxfordshire’s Cotswold villages while at Oxford. Gardens spill over with flowers—there are hollyhocks higher than my height, roses cling to aged walls, cats sit in sunny windows watching passers-by, dogs bark indoors or prance in the front. There is not a car to be seen in some of the side streets—time literally does stand still.

            When we found Bash and Chandrika they were in the local pub on the main street. We badly needed a cup of tea at this time and went in search of a tea room, but the only one to be found had shut a half hour previously. I came up with the idea of driving to Oxford--not too far away. It was about 5.00 pm by this time and Bash was afraid we’d hit traffic big time. He was pleased to make the detour to avoid the highway rush hour. Again, winding roads that went past the sweetest little Cotswold villages led us within spitting distance of Oxford.

 Dinner at The Trout Inn in Wolvercote:

            But that was when Bash and Chandrika decided to make a detour to Wolvercote to skirt the university town and avoid traffic altogether. Bash had his heart set on dining at The Trout Inn—legendary gastropub in Wolvercote, a few miles outside of Oxford, where we had once dined together and where I have dined on several occasions with different friends. Using instinct, I was able to guide Bash to The Trout and on parking his car, we entered the place at a time when it was still almost empty—it was about 6.00 pm. This gave us pick of the spots at the waterside for the pub is located on the banks of the Isis (a branch of the Thames) at the spot where a weir tumbles water into the river creating a very picturesque backdrop for diners.

We were seated at a table for four and decided to order. Both Llew and I chose the King Prawn, Crab and Chorizo Linguine and it was just so darn good that I have resolved to try to reproduce it at home soon. Chandrika, a vegetarian, chose the deep-fried halloumi while Bash had the beef burger and we all pronounced our meal superb. For dessert, I got the Sticky Toffee Pudding with Warm Custard which I only ever eat when I am in the UK while Llew had the Belgian-Chocolate Brownie with Vanilla Ice-Cream. In the distance, I could see one of the dreaming spires of Oxford—the steeple of a former church now housing the Science Center. I had the terrible feeling of being so near and yet so far. But we had lingered over our meal and our drinks (local beer for me) far too long and Chandrika realized at 7. 30 pm that she had a long way to go to reach home in South London.

We hastily made our retreat from the restaurant but not before we paused on the bridge above the weir to take in the sights of the Oxford Tow Path curving towards the city at Godstow Lock where the ruins of Godstow Nunnery still stand—they formed the setting for one of the famed Inspector Morse Mysteries that I adore.

            We got back into our car and raced homewards—alas, without passing through one of my favorite cities in the world. So near and yet so far, I thought, as I had hoped we would at least drive down The High and take in the illuminated college buildings. Still, it was only a small disappointment in a very fulfilling day and we were absolutely delighted with the unexpected twists and turns (literally!) that it had taken to bring us into some of our fondest TV locations.

            Bash was kind enough to drive us all the way into the city and it was at King’s Cross that we alighted to hop into a bus that took us right opposite our building at the corner of Gray’s Inn Road within 10 minutes. Our hosts were already asleep when we crept in at about 10. 30 pm after an amazing day.

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!  

           

           

Hovering Around Hampstead: Kenwood House, Serpentine Pavilion, Dinner with London Friend

Wednesday, July 15, 2015:

Hovering Around Hampstead—and Back in London again!

            We awoke to the knowledge that it is July 15 and my brother Russel’s birthday. We started our day with a call to him—for I had also purchased a Lebara SIM card as the O2 Big Bundle plan that came with my new British cell phone did not permit international calling. Although it was almost mid-day in Bombay, India, where Russel is based, he was delighted to hear from us and the call gives us the opportunity also to speak to my Dad.

Breakfast with Another Friend in Hampstead:

But we have a very early start as it will take us about an hour on the Tube to get to Hampstead, a lovely little village on the outskirts of London, where we have plans to breakfast with our friend Marilyn Rixhon who suggested we meet her at White and Ginger, a snazzy coffee shop not far from the Tube station. We leave our flat at 8. 30 and hop into the Tube to Hampstead.

I am always charmed by this part of London which happens to be one of my favorites. Walking through its leafy streets is a simple treat—a little village right in the heart of the city. Taking in its grand mansions, its spruce gardens, walking on its Heath, climbing Parliament Hill for unrivalled views of the city are some of its selling points. Visiting its national properties open to the public such as Keats’ House, Fenton House, 2 Willow Road (home of architect Erno Goldfinger) have brought me to this part of London many times over and it is always with renewed delight that I discover something new and wonderful about it. It was on Church Lane in Hampstead, home of a weekly antiques market, that I found the lovely dropdown antique desk that I had shipped back to the States when my working stint in London had come to an end. I use the desk daily and always marvel at its acorn-shaped drawer pulls and the Tudor linen-fold panel decoration that I adore. This time, since Llew is with me, it is unlikely we will have the leisure to wander aimlessly in the area as I often do when I am alone. Furthermore, it is drizzling and chilly—not ideal walking weather. In fact, it might be a good day to lose oneself in a museum and my mind begins to explore other possibilities since we are in the Hampstead neck of the London woods.  

 It is just 9. 15 am when we walk into White and Ginger at precisely the same time that Marilyn arrives there too. We have an affectionate reunion. I had made friends with her when I had lived in London and it is an association I cherish and nurture by email and regular visits on my forays into the city. Marilyn is a Swiss woman married to a Belgian and has lived in London for a couple of decades. Getting together with her is an opportunity to chat about all sorts of things—our daughters (she has Emma-Louise, now an Art History major at the University of London), our work, our pursuits, our love of travel, etc. We order breakfast: it is Ham and Cheese Croissants with Hot Chocolate for Llew and me and Scrambled Eggs with Smoked Salmon on Toast for her. The coffee shop is full of wealthy and pretty North London housewives married to physicians and financial whizzes who have seen their kids off on the school bus and are now getting together for a gossip session before going home to their chores. Our hour or so passes quickly and Marilyn, who has just returned from her yoga class, is headed to a work appointment. She has treated us to breakfast and we are thrilled to have had the time with her on a busy travel schedule for us and a busy work day for her. We say goodbye regretfully but I know I will see her again for our paths cross frequently.

Exploring Recently-Renovated Kenwood House:

            It was my plan that I should introduce Llew to Kenwood House, a grand mansion designed by the 18^th century architect Robert Adams, not too far from Hampstead High Street. The drizzle continues unabated and it is wet and grey—the perfect day to spend indoors inspecting a world-class manor and enjoying its world-class art collection. Llew is willing when I explain the plan of action. He has never been to Kenwood while I have been there often. It was closed for a long while as it underwent renovation—and now that it has reopened, I too am keen to see what changes have been wrought.

            We take the 268 Bus from the High Street and three stops later change to the 210 bus headed to Finsbury Park. It stops right outside Kenwood House which makes it very convenient for those attempting to get there by public transport (this is not the case with many country manors in the UK which are usually located in the middle of nowhere). Llew is repeatedly struck by the assurance with which I use public transport and find my way around this city and its outskirts.  

            We cross the street, enter Kenwood House, and are greeted by volunteers in the lovely Robert Adams’ foyer that is done in the style of Josiah Wedgwood’s Jasperware: think pale matt shades such as pink, blue and lavender with embossed white motifs all over. We have all seen ceramic bowls, plates and teacups in this design. Now imagine the same aesthetic transferred to the walls and ceiling of a country home and you can guess how stunning the effect can be. Robert Adams created and popularized this look by using Plaster of Paris to cast the various rondels and other decoration that would adorn the homes he designed. The Library is the piece de resistance in this home—it is the one room that was most affected by the renovation. The excessive gilding that had been added later in the Victorian Age was painted over as it was not part of Adams’ original conception. The room looks far more subdued today. Ceiling paintings by Antonio Zucci bring it the only bright spots of color. There are mirrors, chandeliers, a marble fireplace and mantelpiece and period furniture that are not original to the home. The home was built for Lord Mansfield and was later purchased by the Irish aristocrat, Lord Iveagh (pronounced Ivor), heir to the Guinness Brewery fortune.

            Our exploration of the art work then follows as we enter the huge Dining Room where many of the masterpieces in the collection are to be found: Jan Vermeer’s The Guitar Player, for instance, is a huge draw. One of Rembrandt’s last self-portraits stunningly occupies one wall. There are important portraits by Gainsborough, Franz Hals, Van Dyke, Thomas Lawrence’s charming portrayal of Miss Murray, loads of works by Sir Joshua Reynolds, even John Singer Sargent. We move from room to room admiring these works and chatting with the guides in each room who are exceedingly knowledgeable about the rooms and their decoration. Lord Iveagh amassed the small but exquisite art collection that he bequeathed to Great Britain in his will as he wanted the general public to be able to enjoy Art free of charge in a house he loved. Hence, entrance to Kenwood House does not cost the visitor anything. When we climb the stairs to the second floor, we find more portraits from the Tudor period to the 18^th century. There is so much to see, so much to read, for the exhibits are well-curated. When we have spent over two hours in this lovely home, we get ready for our 1.30 meeting with my relative, Joel, at Shepherd’s Bush in the Westfield Mall.

            Thankfully, it has stopped raining and the skies are brightening up miraculously. The sun quickly dries up pools of water that have accumulated everywhere but the rain has left a residual freshness that adds to the purity of the air. We do not have the time to walk on the Heath, but head straight to the Bus stop to take a bus to Hampstead Tube Station.

 A Chat with a Former Professional Cricketer:

                It is while we are waiting for the bus that takes an unusually long time to arrive that I get into conversation with a fellow passenger. Before we know it, we are deep in discussion with him. A few stops later, he alights with us and then offers to accompany us as we walk downhill to the Tube station. Introductions are done and he turns out to be a Michael Huxley who once played professional cricket for Middlesex as a reservist and who toured the world with the team. His best friend even today is England’s former cricketing captain Mike Brearly who, he informs us, married an Indian woman and has settled down in Hyderabad, India. Instantly, he and Llew have a lot to discuss about cricket past and present and, on the walk to the station, our conversation scintillates. I am repeatedly struck by the way people I turn to randomly for a few minutes’ chatter end up being some of the most interesting folks I know. He tells us that he began playing cricket at the age of six while in school in neighboring Highgate. He continued at university and turned professional shortly afterwards. The Ashes matches have begun, between England and Australia, and England has been hammered on Day One which has made the nation feel down in the dumps. Michael shakes our hands, bids us goodbye when we arrive at the station and is gone. We are left with the distinct feeling that our meeting was fated.

 On the Tube to Shepherd’s Bush:

            My Dad’s cousin’s daughter Sybil (now an invalid in a hospice in Kent) was once married to a man called Joel with whom I have continued to keep in contact despite their divorce. Joel, who now lives in Guildford, Surrey, suggested we meet for lunch at the Westfield Shopping Mall in Shepherd’s Bush as this would be mutually convenient for us. He has never met Llew and was keen to make his acquaintance. Those of you who know me well also know that I am allergic to modern shopping malls and avoid them like the plague. However, this Westfield in Shepherd’s Bush, had opened to much fanfare when I had lived in London and I was pretty keen to see what the fuss was about. Hence, when Joel suggested it, I complied.

            Like any mall, the Westfield, an Australian chain, is huge, crowded, noisy, filled with designer showrooms (that do nothing for me) and food courts that I find equally bland and characterless. After meeting Joel, we had a long debate on the best place to eat and Joel suggested the “Set Lunches” offered by the restaurants outside the mall.  It was at Madmaloun, a Lebanese restaurant that we finally settled. I chose their Mezze Sampler which included some of my favorite spreads: hummus, babaganoush, lebnez, dolmas (Greek rice stuffed vine leaves), salad and taramasalata—all absolutely delicious eaten with pita bread. Llew and Joel chose to have the Lamb Shwarma Platter which seemed to have impressed neither of them. One of the other reasons I love being in London is the ability to indulge in all sorts of ethnic food offerings although, truth be told, I am partial to standard British classics myself such as Bangers and mash, Shepherd’s Pie, Steak and Ale Pie or Cornish Pasties. Still, the meal was secondary to the opportunity to catch up with Joel and his family news. He is always so eager and happy to meet me and to drive me around to places outside London. This time, he seemed less buoyant since he was recovering from recent surgery.

 Off to See the Serpentine Pavilion at Kensington Gardens:

            At 2. 30 pm, we bade Joel goodbye and got back on the Tube after spending some time shopping for our food goodies from Waitrose before we returned to the city laden with our grocery bags. The sun had come out fully by this time and walking outside was a sheer pleasure. I suggested to Llew that we should get off at Kensington Gardens and make our way to the Serpentine Gallery, one of London’s better-known art galleries with changing exhibits.

            Each summer, for the past 15 years, the Serpentine has invited artists to create what they call a “pavilion” right outside the main entrance of the gallery—an installation that reveals the innovative thinking of the Artist. Over the years, I have visited many of these pavilions that have taken the form of gardens, outdoor seating areas, etc. This year, the Serpentine Pavilion has been designed by Spanish architects SelgasCano who are showing off their nature-meets-synthetics genius. The duo has designed a stunning chrysalis-like structure made from brightly-colored transparent plastic. Once you cross the broad expanse of lawns that is Kensington Gardens, past the Italianate formal gardens at Lancaster Gate, the pond that teems with mallard life and the lovely sculpture of Peter Pan that is a tribute to author J.M. Barrie who frequented the park and was inspired by the family he met here to write his masterpiece, it is, to quote from the Gallery's publicity material, “a space in the middle of London to get lost in, to marvel at the Modernist architecture and to realize that, yeah, London’s actually not too bad after all! There’s talk of a ‘secret corridor’ from which to marvel at the building’s awesome stained-glass effect. Other than inspiring daydreams of caterpillars mating with Fruit Pastilles, what else is going on here?” Well, whatever you make of it, really, for the installation is fully open to interpretation.

            Llew and I spent a lovely time here. We entered the pavilion which reminded me of a colored plastic igloo. Inside, Fortnum and Mason had set up snacks, beverage and ice-cream stands and people were enjoying the relaxed ambience. The long trek across the Park and the sudden heat had rendered me thirsty and looking for a water fountain and finding none, I was offered a cold glass from a staff water cooler—God knows how far away they walked to bring it to me. It is little gestures of kindness like this that continually strike me in London for its people are nothing if not kind and polite, considerate and compassionate.

Homeward-Bound on the Bus:

            We then walked briskly out of Kensington Gardens and found a bus on Kensington Gore Road to get us to Holborn. The day had been saved miraculously and the city was crawling again with visitors being tourists or shopping for that special something to take back home. We needed to offload our shopping, take showers and get dressed—for we had yet another dinner invitation from yet another London-based friend that I had made when I had lived there: Sushil Velu. And since he lived on Theobalds’s Road right behind High Holborn where we were based, his place was very easy to reach.   

      Sushil is a very good cook and he chose to cook us a meal himself. He lives alone in a flat in a wonderfully central location. He had also invited another mutual friend, Owen Berkeley-Hill who was supposed to arrive with his English wife, Barbara. She, however, was tied up with something and Owen arrived alone. Llew was meeting all these friends of mine for the very first time, so conversation was more of an introductory sort. Sushil served wine and brought out the most delicious sautéed chicken wings we’ve eaten. The marinade was truly finger-lickin’ good. He also served us steamed rice with his signature Beef Curry and a marvelous concoction of cauliflower with broad beans flavored with mustard, coconut and lime juice. Dessert was ice-cream, vanilla and chocolate, and a simpler, more scrumptious home-cooked meal would be hard to find. I was pleased to see Sushil looking so well. It has been a few years since I have seen him as his travels to India often caused us to cross one another on my visits to London. Llew was finally able to put faces to these names with which he has become familiar over the years.

            At about 9.00 pm, after Owen had left to return to Kent where he lives, Llew and I had some alone time with Sushil who filled us in on his future plans now that he has retired from the BBC. We resolved to continue to stay in touch and left his home about 10.00 pm for our short and very pleasant walk home to High Holborn where we called it a night.

            Another very pleasant day had come to an end for us in London—a day that started and ended with friends and which had been punctuated by world-class art offerings in grand country manors and en plein air. We were not disappointed with the way it had turned out despite its gloomy start.                

            Until tomorrow, cheerio!