A Fabulous Day of Discovery—Exploring Primrose Hill, Regent’s Park, Regent’s Canal Tow Path and Holland Park. Plus a Celebrity ‘Helicade’ Flies Above me

Wednesday, September 17,

Battersea, London

A Fabulous Day of Discovery—Exploring Primrose Hill, Regent’s Park, Regent’s Canal Tow Path and Holland Park. Plus a Celebrity ‘Helicade’ Flies Above me!

I had another fabulous (if profoundly fatiguing) day in London! Truly, as Dr. Johns put it, “When a man is tired of London, he tired of life itself”. So, as is my wont, evey time I am in London, I attempt to discover a part of the city I have never seen before—and this time, it was Primrose Hill. I plucked a Walking Tour route right off the internet before leaving home in Bombay, and Voila! I was off.

Off On a Walking Tour of Primrose Hill:

Primrose Hill is one of those chichi parts of London, inhabited by the well-heeled and the upper-crusted. It is right off the beaten path and when you are in its environs, it is hard to believe you are in the midst of a bustling global city—so serene and secluded is this place.

So I awoke, showered, breakfasted (on cake!—remnants of my Bottomless Cake Experience still languishing in the fridge) and set off at 9.45 am (Roz had already left for a breakfast meeting with a friend). I took the 344 bus toi Battersea Power Station Tube Station and from there boarded the Northern Line Tube lien to Chalk Farm. From there, I followed my walking tour route.

To say that it was delightful would be a huge understatement. The day was grey and cloudy, very windy and there was a soft and gentle spritz on my face. As long as it stayed this way, I was fine. I just hoped it would not get any wetter. I started up along stretts that were architecturally interesting for the fact that they were built at least two centuries ago in the style that has become quintessentially English. Generally three stories, they have a front porch, a ground floor level with a living room, a second and third floor with bedrooms and, in the more expensive versions, basements (where kitchens are usually located to lead directly out into back gardens). I took in these sights and came upon, quite suddenly, a blue plaque. Now as someone who can never pass a blue plaque without reading it to find ut who lived in the house, I found that it was the hoem of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, a titan of Indian history, drafter of the Indian Constitution, champion of the outcastes and down-trodden (now known as Dalits) in India. That he lived on Primrose Hill—who knew? I though it a lovely find! Dr. Raja Ram Mohan Roy used to live in a house on Bedford Square, right next to the building where NYU-London is located.

I have to say that at this point, I began to notice dozens of helicopters, one after the other, circling the skies above. I had no idea what they were or meant, but some of them clearly looked like army vehicles. I would find out soon enough.

The President is Coming!

Soon, I arrived at the entrance to Primrose Hill Park and began the climb to the vantage point from which one has lovely views of the city. Once I huffed and puffed my way up there, I noticed a large number of people facing the view with massive cameras in their hands—they were clearly professional photographers, if one wen t by the bazooka camera lenses in their hands and the sophistication of the tripods that they had set up. After taking in th views myself, I went up to one of them and asked what they were looking at or waiting for and was duly imformed that Trump’s entourage was expected to be flying past any minute as he was currently at Westminster and was due to fly on to Windsor. This explained the multitude of copters in the air—they were, apparently, clearing the air space to ensure full security as Trump flew past.

Well, of course, standing there and waiting for the big moment was a no-brainer—so I joined the celebrity-spotters with my humble little I-phone camera in my hand, hoping to also record this extraordinary moment. Meanwhile, I took pictures of the many London landmarks I could recognize: St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Gherkin, the Walkie-Talkie, BT Tower, Centerpoint Building, etc.

We did not have to wait long before the ‘helicade’ began. Apparently, the President always travels in an entourage of three helicopters so that snipers will not know which one to target. I spied two identical ones—he was supposedly in the first one, with a third security one following last—it has dual propellers which was a giveaway. Everyone had their eyes or their cameras trained on the helicade and so, of course, we had our big moments. And then, soddenly, when the fly-past was finished, the hordes disappeared just as suddenly. And so I had my most unexpected brush with global diplomacy. Let us hope that a lot of good productive thigns will come out of this pomp and ceremony.

Continuing down the hill on my walking route, I arrived at Regent’s Park Road. These are very posh parts of London and are punctuated by chic coffee shops, bakeries (from which the most appetizing aromas emanate), boutiques, etc. I walked by all of them, of course, and eventually, arrived at Regent’s Canal. I took the steps down to the Tow Path, as instructed, and gave myself up to the sheer pleasure of enjoying one of the prettiest and most unspoiled parts of the capital. Once upon a time, during the 19th century, these tow paths were busy, ablaze with business undertakings as the river played a very important commercial role and horses walked on the paths towing the barges. Today, they are paths for joggers, strollers, dog-walkers, etc. Autumn has come to London and I reveled in the crips, cool air. I so miss the change of seasons in Bombay (although NOT the winters) and Fall was always a season I adored (although Spring is my favorite). There is a great deal of color on the trees already and tons of leaves crackle underfoot as I walked. There are any number of house boats on the Canal and is it fascinating to imagine the lifestyle of these river people.

I then climbed up the stairs and arrived at the yard of St. Mark’s Church where I paused for a bit to take in the views and then carried on again. This time, walking along Chalcot Road, I arrived at charming Chalcot Square where I found the home once occupied by the American poet Sylvia Plath after her marriage to British Poet Laureate Ted Hughes. She lived in this quiet corner home for just one year, however. Moving on, I arrived at Chalcot Crescent, where I found the home at No. 30 that features in the Paddington movies. Of course, I took pictures at every stage. The houses in this area are also highly photogenic as they are all painted in quiet, ice-cream colors and are beautifully maintained. Their gardens also sport the last summer blooms and autumn flowers are everywhere—sunflowers and autumn joy sedum. At one point, I passed by the home of Jose Rizal, statesman and prominent politician in the Phillipines.

Moving on, I arrived again at Regent’s Park Road at which point, the walking tour ended and I was able to get back on the Tube at Chalk Farm Station. It had been a most delightful ramble and I am so glad I went—not just because I discovered a part of London about which I had heard so much over the years but because I saw for myself how desirable owning a home in this area would be (it is similar to Hampstead or Holland Park). I also saw how isolated it is and yet how crammed with the ghosts of historical figures who made great impact on the world.

Shopping at Marble Arch:

I decided to go ahead and do the shopping I needed to do while I still had some energy left. Needless to say, the nearly 3-hour walk had left me widned. My knees were protesting, my leg muscles aching and my lungs worked overtime to get me up and down those hills and dales! Yes, I might be a walker but all this compulsive exploration when I am in London, is clearly taking a toll on my physical abilities. I am very definitely pushing it! Makes me wonder how long I will be able to undertake such exhausting compulsions!

I arrived at Marble Arch Station, by which time it was almost 1.30 pm and I was ready for some sustenance before I began shopping. So up I went to the Café (stopping en route to use the rest rooms) and boy what a surprize I had! The Café at M and S has become very much upscale: it offers a most impressive breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea menu. In fact, the menu card itself is spiffy with appetizing pictures making you want to pause and eat everything. I thought I would go for the fish and chips (as I always have them at least once while in London), but instead decided on a Cheese Scone (also one of the things I love to eat in the UK) and a Very Chocolately Milk-shake. This would be lunch and it was substantial and delicious. I then texted my friend Frances who was expecting me at 3.00 pm that I would be just a bit late.

I hurried off to the Food Hall and picked up my stock of M and S cookies—truly wish I would have bought more but I know that volume and weight are at a premium when I am en route to the USA. So I stopped at just 4 packets of biscuits. Then, I marched off to the Womens’ Wear floor and found three pairs of wide-leg trousers that I wanted: in balck, navy blue and cream. Alas, chocolate brown was not available in my size and they do not do a black in this style. I grabbed the three that were available, went into the Fitting Room to try it on for good measure and then had it paid for and bagged and was off. I had one more mission accomplished and I felt very pleased with myself.

Off to Holland Park to meet My Friend Frances:

Then, it was to Holland Park where I had plans to spend the afternoon with a new friend. I met Frances very recently, on our East African Safari. We had hit it off immediately and have been closely in touch since it ended. When I told her that I would be in London, she invited me to her home for tea. It tuned out to be a most wonderful visit.

Frances has a truly stunning home. It is filled with the most sought-after names in contemporary Indian art. She has the eye, the taste, the style and she has brought it all together in a sprawling home that is gorgeously decorated. What’s more, she had prepared fresh avocado and smoked salmon sandwiches for me and, on the coffee table, stood a small glass cake stand with a red velvet cake, ready for my consumption, Sadly, I was too full with my recently-consumed lunch and told her that I would nibble later. So, we sat down to chat instead and to allow my feet to get some rest. During this time, I flexed my foot muscles and stretched my plantar.

After about an hour, we nibbled on tea, smoking peppermint tea and cake and then, fortified with our mid-afternoon repast, we decided to set out to explore the neighborhood. Now, unlike Primrose Hill, I know Holland Park well. It is an area I have explored because many scenes from my favorite TV series of all time, “As Time Goes By’ is shot on location in these parts. However, Frances lies on a most exclusive street—it is punctuated by houses owned by celebrities (although few of them live in these homes—being ensconced on their country states). I’m talking David Beckham, Simon Cowell, Andrew Lloyd-Weber and even, right across the street, opposite her home, the Maharaja Duleep Singh of Lahore, once lived. He was the one whose territory was annexed by Queen Victoria who then felt very guilty that she had robbed him of his heritage and ended up adopting him! He had spent a lot of time with her on the Isle of Wight.

So, Frances, who shares so many passions with me—Art, History, Gardens, Architecture—was a brilliant guide on the walk. She filled me in on the history of the place and drew my attention to little architectural details I knew nothing about. She has studied Art History at the British Museum—so she is truly a kindred spirit. Once we reached Holland Park, we passed by the famous Belvedere Restaurant where I had once invited to an evening’s reception when it was owned and run by the celebrity chef, Marco Pierre White. Today, it is in other hands, I believe. There was a shoot in progress for a mayonnaise commercial there and the restaurant was closed. However, on skirting it, we passed by a glorious Rose Garden where the last roses of summer—in my favorite color peach—were very much in evidence and photo-worthy.

Going further into the Park, Frances pointed out the remaining brick structures of the homes that once belonged to Lord Holland (after whom the Park is named). His bronze sculpture is to be seen later along the route. In the very formal Italianate Garden, Lionel and Jean, the two characters of “As Time Goes By”, had strolled in their much younger lives. I was thrilled to be in that venue which has remained timeless. Next, we walked through the fountains and sun dials of the formal English gardens—also showing the last of the summer blooms before they disappear for the year.

And then, we were following the path that took us to my very favorite part of Holland Park—the Japanese Kyoto Garden. In another life, when I had lived and worked in London, I used to come here to grade my students’ papers. It is a brilliantly conceived four-season garden: in the spring, azaleas and rhododendrons bring riotous color to the space nd in the Fall, maples in bronze, yellow, red and orange paint the scene with a completely different hue. There are usually peacocks strutting all voer this garden—but today we spied only one—and a bunch of cheeky squirrels who come right up close and beg for food. The focal point of this little garden is the cascade and as we walked towards it, Frances gave me a little lecture on the principles of Japanese garden design—quite similar to the Chinese in the concept of yin and yang in which opposites are deliberately brought together for visual contrast and texture. Yes, we took a lot of pictures together in the very soft evening light of autumn and overall were enchanted by our garden stroll. I could not have found a better companion for such uplifting wandering.

Back home, walking through Holland Park Mews, which Frances told me can be seen in so many movies, we returned to her place. As she was off to the National Theater and I had been invited for dinner by my friends to their home in Chelsea, we had to hurry off. She dropped me off to the Notting Hill Tube Station from where I would take the Circle Line to Sloane Square, In the process, I met her friend Sheila who is her regular culture-companion, and off they went.

Dinner with Friends in Chelsea:

I got on the Tube and about fifteen minutes later, I was crossing Sloane Square to arrive at Sloane Street to the home of my friends, Cynthia and Michael whom I think of as my ‘family’ in London. Of course, we had the fondest reunion with both of them looking well and ready to launch into a lovely catch-up chat. Dinner was getting ready in the oven when Michael placed a gin and tonic in my hand and offered me nibbles;;cashew nuts and crisps. After we’d spoken about everything under the sun, it was time to move to the table where I sat down to enjoy one of Cynthia’s delicious meals: Tuna Pie with a lovely golden potato mash topping served with steamed broccoli and carrots. It was wonderful. For dessert, there was Cynthia’s home made vanilla ice-cream served with stewed cinnamon Apples and Raisins. It was all superb but made more meaningful and memorable by the fact that they are such close friends of mine and that Cynthia considers me her sister.

Sadly, the time had to come for us to part as I did not want to be out too late on the street leading to Roz’s place. She was out for dinner and when I arrived at her door, I let myself in with the key and found the home empty. All that was left was for me to brush and floss my teeth, change and get straight into bed.

It had been a most eventful day and a very tiring one. I promise to do much less walking tomorrow when I have a date with my friend, Michelle. We are off and away to Hatfield House, another place I have always wanted to visit.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

London Lures Me Back! Haircut in Chelsea, Fabulous Fitzrovia Chapel, Lebanese Lunch in Mayfair, in Liberty of London, Viewing the Renovated National Portrait Gallery, Theater Show at the West End

Wednesday, Aug 2, 2023

London Lures Me Back! Haircut in Chelsea, Fabulous Fitzrovia Chapel, Lebanese Lunch in Mayfair, in Liberty of London, Viewing the Renovated National Portrait Gallery, Theater Show at the West End

It was another stunning day in London, weather-wise, and I made the most of it (there have not been too many gorgeous days like this, I am told, during this summer).

When Steam Trains Let Off Steam:

I was awoken today to a most unusual and very stirring sight. My friend Roz’s home in Battersea in South London, has a garden that backs up to the British Rail railroad track. This means that, from time to time, one hears trains whoosh past outside the window. Usually, as soon as I wake up, I open the window (of my bedroom) and draw back the curtains—so that as I sit up in bed (usually blogging or reading), I can admire the sight of the trains rush past as well as hear the planes as they make their early morning descent into Heathrow airport as Battersea is on the Heathrow flight path. Truly, these sounds are one of the best ways to enter into the spirit of London.

So you can just imagine how thrilling it was for me to awake to a strange new sound and sight—that of an old-fashioned steam trail (literally from the mid-1800s) pass by outside our window. This train, according to Roz, takes passengers “to the seaside”--all the way to the West coast of the UK (Devon and Cornwall). I grabbed my camera and rushed to the window to take its picture, when I realized that the train was slowing down to a halt. And then, right before my eyes, with the engine caboose almost parallel to my eye level, the motormen begin pottering around.

Next thing I knew, the engine began to let off steam! Truly, I understood, for the first time, from where that expression originates! For the next ten minutes (at least), long puffs of smoke emanated from the engine’s twin chimneys and flew high up into the skies. It was like viewing a live volcano with all the sounds that go with the letting out of such energy. I shot video footage through my camera and was simply delighted at the experience. It is not every day that one wakes up to such engineering marvels or to the unexpected juxtaposition of the 19th century in the midst of the 21st. I was simply floored! And just as I was taking it all in, the train began to move away slowly and the most stirring of sights became a marvelous memory. What an exceptional way to begin my day!

Breakfast and Off for the Day:

I had a busy day planned ahead of me, so I did not waste too much time getting going. I showered, had a muesli and yogurt breakfast and left the house. My friend Roz was working from home today—so it was good I left her undisturbed.

I took the bus straight to the King’s Road in Chelsea as I had a 10.45 am appointment with Mahi, my regular London-based hair stylist. But as I was early, I first strolled back to my friend Sarah Raynor’s place (she is Roz’s sister) to see if I had left my lovely Italian silk scarf behind at her’s. It was a gift from my dear friend in Italy, Annalisa, and it always gave me happy memories of her. I was sorry to have misplaced it. To my ill luck, Sarah told me to go upstairs to my room and check it myself…but there was simply no sign of it. Giving up after feeling really deflated, I left her place and walked to the bus stop to take the bus to Chelsea.

Once in Chelsea, as I had about 45 minutes to spare, I decided to look on the Fulham Road at the charity shops there as I was still seeking two bone china mugs. I enjoyed walking in Chelsea at that early hour, right opposite the Royal Brompton Hospital when there were still only a few people on the street and corner florists were just setting up their colorful displays. I walked into Octavia and left with a pair of ear-rings and a lovely bangle. This is why I go to the thrift shops—because you can find the most unusual (usually vintage) jewelry. Next, I walked down Brompton Road back to the King’s Road and I nipped into Waitrose (I love browsing its enticing food shelves—it’s an upscale supermarket) and then, by impulse, back into the Oxfam charity shop. I was still looking for two bone china mugs to replace the ones we had broken in Bombay. I had very little hope, really, as I have been in and out of this shop at least three times before and drawn a blank. And this time, guess what I found? A beautiful pair of bone china mugs with an almost similar Chinoiserie pattern to the one I had broken…and for exactly the price I had hoped to pay for them (ie. 2 pounds each!).

Armed with this buy, I had a new spring in my step as I entered Nails and Beauty, the salon at which my hair stylist Mahi now works. She used to be further down the King’s Road, in World’s End, at Greema’s Beauty Salon. But here, almost opposite Waitrose on the King’s Rod, she is much more accessible. I had a lovely reunion with her and then left myself in her talented hands. I told her I wanted a very short haircut and that was exactly what she gave me. Bombay is warm all year round and I am no longer comfortable with hair on my neck. Hence, the new, short look. Sadly, because the new location is certainly more upscale that Mahi’s former one, I had to pay 10 pounds more for my haircut—but she also told me that she does private grooming and if I am willing to get to her home in Tooting, she would be willing to cut my hair for much less money! A good plan of action, of course…only I have no idea when I will next be in London. Perhaps next year? Who know?

Off to see the Fabulous Fitzrovia Chapel:

With my new look and new hair-do, I took the Tube from Sloane Square Station to Goodge Street to get to my next port of call as I had to be at the Fitzrovia Chapel at 12 noon for their very special guided tour. So what’s the Fitzrovia Chapel and why was I headed there?

The Fitzrovia Chapel is a tiny gem of a venue in the heart of Central London that I had read about ages ago in a book on London’s hidden gems. Over the years I have tried to get into and feast my eyes upon its spectacular wonders. But the trouble is that it is open only once a week on Wednesdays and for a limited time. The last time I was there with my friend Rosie White, it was closed (much to my disappointment). I had left it on my list of things to do in London and thought I would make another attempt this time. And was I glad I did!

So here is a bit about the architectural history of a gorgeous place of worship in London that time has forgotten. It was designed in 1891 by the renowned Victorian architect John Loughborough Pearson (who has given his name to the Square—Pearson Square in Fitzrovia—on which the chapel stands) and was completed in 1930 by his son Frank. The chapel is small and contains a narthex at the entrance, a nave, an organ loft, baptistry, altar and carved lectern, but its most striking feature is its Byzantine-like gold mosaic walls and ceiling, completed between 1897 and 1901. If you have been to Ravenna in Italy, you will be immediately reminded of the tomb of Gala Placida which is one of the most exquisite of the Byzantine mosaic shrines in that wondrous city. (Please see my blog post on Ravenna for more sumptuous detail).

At the entrance, you have marble memorial plaques that recall the contributions of various worthies attached to the Middlesex Hospital, as this chapel was built as a place of worship for those ailing in the hospital as well as their loved ones who could come to visit. In 2005, the entire Middlesex Hospital was demolished to make room for the new swanky block of buildings that occupy the site. However, since the chapel is so exquisite, every attempt was made to save it. And the end result is that the new construction has grown around it—making the chapel the centre of attraction. It is a rather plain, rounded red brick building, but when you enter, my word! You stagger at the sheer beauty of it.

I joined the hour-long guided tour that was given by a lovely lady and learned a great deal about the place. She pointed our attention to the various interior decorative features that make up this space. The interior is superbly lit by dozens of electronic candles that look absolutely realistic and are so much better that the soot-emitting, real candles that would completely destroy this space. I paused to take pictures, to take in the details of the guide’s commentary and to tell myself how lucky I was that I was able to actually see this space that I had been meaning to see for so long.

Lunch at Aline’s Lebanese Restaurant in Mayfair:

It made sense then for me to make my way to my next appointment: Lunch at 1.30 pm with my friend Bande Hassan at Aline, a Lebanese restaurant in Mayfair. As I am trying to avoid walking too much (my knees have started to protect), I took a bus to Tottenham Court Road and then another one along Oxford Street that would get me to Regent’s Street where my restaurant is located. It had started raining and it was not pleasant walking in the driving drizzle to the spot to try to find it.

But find it, I did. And at exactly 1.30 pm, I was at Aline’s. This Lebanese restaurant was recommended by my friend Barbara as she has work connections with the owner who also happens to be a family friend of my friends, the Colcloughs. Anyway, we had a nice reunion, my friend Bande and I, before we were seated in a corner spot. The place is very small and, on a wet afternoon, it was packed—and, therefore, very crowded and very noisy. We actually had to shout above the noise to get the manager to find our reservation.

As in all Lebanese restaurants, we began with hummus (recommended by the waiter) and stuffed vine leaves (which I love). I was not impressed by these (they needed more filling and more flavor). Still, the hummus was the best I can remember. I had a tonic water to drink and when the food arrived, I was happy to find that my grilled prawns and my friend’s kafta (sheekh kebab) were served with rice and a small salad. We were served bakhlava with soothing mint tea to end our meal (and I do believe this part of it was complimentary—unless they also put it on our bill—which I did not see as my friend treated me to the meal).

It was still raining when we left the restaurant but we walked on Regent’s Street and I asked my friend if he was familiar with Liberty of London, the iconic department store that is now known simply as Liberty. He said he was not. I told him he had a treat in store and I took him in to show him one of the most beautiful stores in architectural terms. It is styled like a Tudor mansion and everything about it—staircase, main lobby, terraced paneling, etc, are all evocative of the Elizabethan Age. My friend was most astonished by what he saw. He also realized really quickly that the merchandise and the clientele are very upscale, but he told me that he would keep the place in mind for any special purchases he might need to make in the future.

The Newly Renovated National Portrait Gallery:

At about 3.00 pm, with about two hours left to see the newly-renovated National Portrait Gallery (NPG) at Trafalgar Square, I took a bus from Regent’s Street to get there.

When I arrived at the NPG, I found that the biggest aspect of its renovation is the grandeur of its new entrance which now faces Shaftsbury Avenue. This, apparently, is the handiwork of the contemporary British artist Tracy Emin. Inside, everything looks exactly as it had been earlier, but for the section on the ground floor which contains the newest additions. It is irritating, however, to find that Coat Check now costs money (and not just what you wish to pay). You are asked to pay 2.50 pounds to leave a bag there! Okay, I do get that they spent millions renovating the place, but trying to recover the money from visitors (who expect the gallery to be free –including its amenities) is just daylight robbery (and I hope other galleries and museums will not follow suit in such an obnoxious way).

So, among the new additions are a really splendid portrait of King Charles III—in the same dark grey color palette that had characterized the portrait of Kate, Princess of Wales, a while ago (and which had become highly controversial). There is a dual portrait of Charles and Kate, Duke and Duchess of Cambridge in which she looks like a long green stick! Also featured are portraits of Ed Sheeran, Andy Murray, Sir Lenny Henry, Anna Wintour, Michael Gambon, Grayson Perry with his family members and a photographic portrait of Kate on her 40th birthday. It was lovey to see these folks join the family, as it were. I then took the escalator up to the top floor to my favorite section—the Tudors. But the pace was so packed and the number of heads in front of me so numerous that I simply decided to skip it. I also needed to rest my legs as I have been on my feet for nearly a week and was beginning to feel the ill-effects of my manic museum-hopping.

Off to the West End to Take in The Patriots:

All the was left for me for the rest of the evening then was to take in the West End show, The Patriots starring Tom Hollander. I was treating my friends, Roz and Sarah, to the show as a way of thanking them for their hospitality and kindness to me during my stay in London. They were scheduled to meet me at 7.00 pm at the Theater (the Noel Coward Theatre) in London—at St. Martin’s Lane.

As I reached the theater much in advance of that time, I had to kill at least an hour. Ordinarily, I would have walked around, but my knees were not too happy at the prospect and I preferred to sit somewhere with a cuppa. I strolled around the area and found a Five Guys burger place—this has become my Go-To Venue when trying to kill time as it is huge and impersonal enough that you could fade into anonymity even if you are alone and do what you will. You can sit down without any order at all, you can munch on their peanuts to pass time with a drink, you can go the whole hog and buy a burger and fries and a milk shake. Needless to say, Americans flock to this place because its menu offerings make them feel fully at home and you can hear the twang of American accents all around.

I rested my legs for a good one hour as I people-watched before I made my way towards the theater at just a few minutes before 7.00 pm. My friend Roz and Sarah were already there and, after going through Security and showing our tickets, we arrived at our seats. They were not bad seats at all and I have to say that we had a good time overall.

The play is based on true events at the KGB in Russia beginning at the time of Boris Yeltzin and extending to the present—an era in which Putin is very much represented. It is about the Russian mathematician, Boris Berezovsky. It follows this billionnaire through the decline of the Soviet Union and the rise of the Russian oligarchs, each of whom attempts to feather his own nest in the midst of a cesspool of autocratic corruption. I found the first half of the play really tedious as there as simply too much talking. The protagonist Berezovsky is played by Tom Hollander, an actor whose work I have seen in the TV show, Us, with Saskia Reeves. He played the role simply brilliantly and was very ably supported by the rest of the cast. We had a soft drink (wine for my friends) during the intermission when we took a break from our seats (that allowed very little leg room). I enjoyed the second half of the play much more (by which time, I believe I got my second wind).

As Sarah was really knackered, we took the Tube to South Kensington and from there, she treated us to a cab to her place in Battersea. It had been a lovely evening in the theater and I was glad that I managed to see at least one play before leaving the city on this trip. My friends enjoyed it much more than I did but that was perhaps because they were not as tired as I was.

Dinner With Roz at Her’s:

Back home in Battersea, Roz decided to put together an improvised dinner for us—Salad with rocket, a wonderfully ripe avocado, red radish dressed lightly with oil and vinegar and topped with luxurious prawn cocktail from Marks and Spencer that she got out of a package—very delicious indeed. We watched a bit of TV (Antiques Roadshow) as we ate and it was not long before, we decided to call it a day.

It had been a very long day, but such an adventurous one!

Until tomorrow…cheerio!

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

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

Friday, July 28, 2023, London

Waking in my Favorite City in the World:

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

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

Visiting 575 Wandsworth Road:

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

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

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

On the Bus and Tube Into Central London:

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

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

Visiting The Annual Art Biennale at Chelsea Town Hall:

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

Having Lunch with Chelsea Friends:

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

Stopping at a Favorite Shop and a Favorite Church:

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

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

On the Bus to Bond Street:

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

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

Visiting the Wallace Collection:

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

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

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

Off to the National Gallery for Late Evening Closing:

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

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

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

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

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

E

njoying A Lebanese Dinner with Rosemary:

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

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

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

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

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

Until tomorrow...

Last Full Day in London: PCR Test, Lunch with Roz, Riding the Elizabeth Tube Line, Dinner with the Colcloughs

 Last Full Day in London: PCR Test, Lunch with Roz, Riding the Elizabeth Tube Line, Dinner with the Colcloughs

London

Saturday, May 28, 2022

    Finally the day arrived when we would have to face reality--our wonderful two-week break together was drawing to a close and we had formalities to fulfill, packing to accomplish and departure worries to consider.

Getting a PCR Test:

    We awoke to join our friend Bande for breakfast. He had warmed fresh croissants for us and with butter and lovely ginger preserves, we had a nice breakfast washed down with mint tea. After showers, we got dressed and left for an urgent errand on Oxford Street. Llew had received word from American Airlines that he needs to take a Covid-19 test and be proven negative to be able to board his aircraft. The very reason why we had postponed going on vacation to the UK, six months ago, and had gone to Dubai instead, was threatening to engulf us once again. Quick inquiries with Bande informed us that the large Boots Pharmacy on Oxford Street did walk-in tests and that we could get the results in 24 hours (because Llew was not supposed to do the test prior to 24 hours before his flight took off)! 

    A bus towards Marble Arch from Edgeware Road then saw us get off right after Selfridges to reach Boots, where sadly, we drew a blank. I also spied a store called Ola London with the kind of clothes I knew Chriselle would love. So, I nipped into Ola, bought her two dresses and a blouse (to send back to the States with Llew) and then joined Llew at Boots only to be told that a 24 hour return result was not possible. He was told to go to the Bio-Clinic on Morton Street where 24 hour results were available. 

    So our quest for Morton Street behind Bond Street Tube Station began. Except that Llew heard the name incorrectly--it was Molton Street, not Morton. We walked several blocks away from Bond Street before realizing that we were on the wrong track. I then stopped a lady on the road and asked if she knew where Morton Street was. She whipped out her phone and began to check when she asked what we needed.  When we mentioned PCR tests, she said, "Oh! You need Molton Street, not Morton Street!" A quick check on her phone found us the location and in a few minutes, we were making inquiries there.  However, walk-ins were not possible. We needed to register before the clinic would conduct the test for a fee of 89 pounds (for 24 hours results) or 55 pounds (for 48 hours results)--extortionate prices!!!!

 Well, we had no choice--so I left Llew to return to Boots, where there was a wifi connection, to do the registration while I excused myself and went to NYU. I had to drop off a book for the Assistant Director of the campus and decided to find my way there. But first, I decided to stop at the House of Fraser department store on Oxford Street to buy a glass and chrome hand soap pump I needed for my bathroom. It is such a sad sight to find Debenhams, BHS (British Home Stores) and C & A have closed down--these were the stalwarts of Oxford Street for generations.  It's a good job that Marks and Spencer and Selfridges are still there--also who knows for how long! Happy also to see that Peter Jones is still at Sloane Square. And, of course, one hopes there will always  be Harrods. Even if the prices are astronomical, its presence reassures, as it means that the moneyed still have deep pockets! 

    House of Fraser did have the glass pump container I wanted. I bought it for 15 pounds and nipped out and because I exited through one of the back streets, I simply continued walking on it parallel to Oxford Street. This allowed me to avoid the jostling crowds and discover some new and interesting parts of London that I had never before traversed. There was a beautiful brick-clad church, for instance, right ahead of me and I simply had to take its picture. On I went through streets totally unfamiliar as I headed in the right direction. I expected to reach Tottenham Court Road anytime and when I did, I discovered that I was, in fact, at the right end of Bedford Square and, within minutes, I was at the entrance of NYU-London. Sadly, since it was a Saturday, there was not even a porter on the premises. I had expected either Mark or Mo to be there even if there were no students or faculty members around. But it seems that their routine too has changed following the pandemic. Luckily, I found a mail basket attached to the main door and I was able to post my book with a note to Ruth for whom it was intended. That errand done, I walked to Bury Street, opposite to the British Museum to bring a small gift of tea for my cleaning lady. I know that they sell tea in very good packaging in that store--the place from which I have purchased tea and biscuits for years. That errand also accomplished, I walked briskly to Holborn and took the 98 bus back to Oxford Street. As planned, I met Llew at the Boots. He had registered and as it was close to 1.00 pm, we bought a couple more things from Boots before he got his test done. 

    For his birthday, Llew had been given a beautiful tin of English Breakfast Tea from Fortnum and Mason by our friends Mary and Sam in the Cotswolds. But, of course, it was not decaff and since Llew does not drink regular tea, Mary had advised us to get the tin exchanged at the F&M store in Piccadilly. So that was our next errand. However, I felt uncertain that the store would make the exchange without the receipt or proof of purchase. I, therefore, told Llew that we ought to call Customer Service and find out instead of making a trip there in vain. As expected F&M could not carry out an exchange without the bill and so that saved us having to get there. Instead, we called our friend Roz and asked if she could get to the spot we'd picked for lunch early as we had finished earlier with our errands.

Off for Lunch to Lisson Grove:

    It was hard to believe that we had reached the end of my almost month-long stay in the UK and had not yet eaten fish and chops. When our friend Bande told us that a place in Lisson Grove served the best F&C in town, we simply had to try it out. We told Roz where to meet us and off we went, via Marylebone Underground Station (which is also a National Rail station) and met her 45 minutes later. In taking that path, we happened to pass by the London HQ of BNP Paribas on Harewood Avenue, an address with which Llew was familiar as he had worked for the bank for several years.

    The F&C was delicious--I had the cod, Roz had the cod goujons and Llew had the shrimp scampi...but our order was terribly messed up by an Oriental girl who was clearly new at the till and had no idea what she was doing. We also ordered mushy peas to go with them but our delivery did not include it. We sat outside on a really nice afternoon, but somehow all the confusion with our order spoiled our mood and we really did not have a very good time. Later on, our friend Bande told us that we ought to have gone and sat in the proper restaurant (The Seashell) next door as we had, by mistaken, sat at the take-out place which is simply not the same. Oh well! Next time...

    About an hour later, we bid Roz goodbye and ran along. We really had to get back home to do our packing before we left for dinner that night. Llew was getting anxious as he takes a look at all my buys and panics at the thought of my having excess weight. Back on the Tube, we arrived at Paddington and resolved to use the brand-new Elizabeth Line on our journey in the evening to our friends, the Colcloughs, as we wanted to have the privilege of having used it a day after it had been inaugurated by the Queen on her very own Platinum Jubilee week. 

Packing and Getting Ready to Leave:

    And so, we spent the next couple of hours working on our baggage. Llew had brought a whole bunch of my things from Southport and I had not even opened them or looked at them. So it was good to see my supplies of decaff tea and coffee, some of my shoes, perfumes, etc. waiting to be transported to Bombay. I divided the weight of all the things I had bought in London between the two bags and with that aspect cleared, we weighed the baggage repeatedly and felt satisfied that we had done our best to avoid being hauled up for excess baggage upon departure. 

Off for Dinner to Chelsea--By the New Elizabeth Line--but first, the Chelsea Flower Show:

    Our friends, Bishop Michael and Cynthia, had invited us to their home in Chelsea for dinner at 7.00, but we left earlier so that we could figure out the use of the new Elizabeth Line. Luckily for us, there was a station stop at Paddington--so we walked up to Paddington and discovered that there was a brand-new entrance to the new Elizabeth Line: a high-speed new Underground Line that will get you from Ealing to Central London in 15 minutes (it currently takes about 90 minutes). When we arrived there, we also found that there is a stop at Heathrow Airport--so, in the future, if we are arriving in London and staying with our friend in Paddington, the Elizabeth Line will be much cheaper an option that the Heathrow Express which has swelled to 25 pounds in fare for a single ride. 

    The stations of the Elizabeth Line are wide, spacious and very well lit. Announcements are clear (if a tad too loud), the stations have double doors (for additional security and to ensure that no one can fall down by accident or enter the Tube lines) and the trains run right through with no doors connecting cars. When our train did arrive, we found that everyone was excited to be on the new line (not just us) and were all taking pictures of themselves in the brand-new cars. The line is Purple (for royalty) and the seating reflects this color choice--the upholstery is in striped purple as well.  Clearly, a lot of thought has gone into the construction of this line which has been on for at least six years. Maybe it was a good thing--this way, it was ready to be inaugurated on the very week of the Platinum Jubilee when all of the UK (at least all Royalists) are jubilant! 

    We got off at Tottenham Court Road, changed to the Northern Line going south, then the Circle Line and were in Sloane Square about 20 minutes later--as the Elizabeth Line is really very fast. You can feel the velocity of it when you are riding it as the stations just fly by. 

    When we arrived at Sloane Square, we found that all of Chelsea was jubilant too because this is the week of the annual (and very famous) Chelsea Flower Show that goes on for two weeks each May. When I had lived in London, I had made sure to get tickets for it and had the privilege of spying Ricky Gervais at the show with his partner, Jane Fallon. Since it is such a huge community affair, all the retailers along the King's Road, have gotten into the act and go out of their way to present the most amazing floral facades at the entry of their shops.  This year, the theme is the Platinum Jubilee and almost every big-name retailer on the street (Ralph Lauren, Hatchards, Club Monaco, Les Nereides, Massimo Dutti, NARS and Aspiga --to name only a few) had gorgeous flower arrangements to welcome their patrons. People were walking with bags full of plants and bouquets of flowers that they had obviously bought from the show which is truly a gardener's paradise. I remember how blown I had been by the show when I had seen it in person myself. It is a real stunner and every horticulturist in the UK tries to be a part of this event. Seeing it all from the top decker of a bus was an inspired idea as we could whizz through the street, get off at M&S to buy the lemons I wanted to take back to India (yes, bags of them!) as you cannot get them at a reasonable price there (sour limes yes, no lemons). I have to say that Llew indulges me in all my hair-brained schemes and, a few minutes later, armed with lemons from M&S, we crossed the street, jumped into a bus going down Sloane Street and were at our friends' place about ten minutes behind schedule.

Dinner with Our Friends:

    Bishop Michael (retired Anglican Bishop) and his wife, Cynthia, are like my relatives in London--we are that close. Cynthia and I consider ourselves to be sisters. When I had lived and worked in London, they had taken me under their wing and, through the years, our bond has grown firmer and more cordial. They never allow us to leave London without a meal at their place. I had met them at the beginning of my stay here and with Llew in town, they called us over again for dinner. With drinks (a G&T for me, a lager for Llew) and crisps for nibbles, we caught up on a whole lot. Then, we adjourned to the dining table to enjoy a simple but very good home-cooked meal--Chicken in Tarragon Sauce, carrots, broccoli, boiled whole potatoes. Dessert was ice-cream with stewed fruit--apples and plums. While we were at dinner, Llew received his Covid-19 test results and discovered, much to our relief, that he was negative. It was a great end to a fraught day. More than the pleasure to be derived from the food was the sheer joy of the Colcloughs' company and we had a lot to gab about before it was time to say Goodbye--to them and indeed to London.

    We took a bus from right outside their home to Sussex Gardens and were home, having our last lingering looks of London with its fully illuminated monuments, as they flew behind us. It had been an absolutely wild two weeks with Llew and just as fulfilling a ten day period (partly alone and partly with Amy) before he had arrived. It amazes me how much we were able to cram into our travels in the UK and how well we used every second. But, I have to admit that I had begun to experience tourist fatigue and with all the walking we had done, our feet had begun to protest. So, we were happy to call it a day and return to the comforting pace of routine.

    We were back at Paddington in less than half an hour and since our friend Bande was still awake (it was just before 10.00 pm), we had a chance to bid him goodnight before we crashed for the night.    

    Until tomorrow...when I shall write about our departure from London, I say...cheerio!     

           

Arrival of Llew in London, Bus Ride to See the Sights, A Restful Afternoon and Evening with Sports and Music on the Telly

 Arrival of Llew in London, Bus Ride to See the Sights, Walk in Chelsea and Fulham, Restful Afternoon and Evening with Sports and Music on the Telly

London

Saturday, May 14, 2022

    Ah! The day finally dawned when I would see Llew again after five and a half months!! It was also the day I would be checking out of this hotel, the Premier Inn, where I was incredibly comfortable, and moving on to Paddington to the home of our friend Bande. I awoke at 5.00 am and spent a while blogging before I decided to get going. I had a shower, packed up most of my belongings and went down to breakfast for my last humongous buffet feast. From now on, it will be muesli with yogurt and decaff coffee--the kind of breakfast I eat at home daily. I made the most of my large offerings and started with a croissant with butter and orange marmalade, then moved on to my last full English breakfast and ended with fruit and yogurt--all washed down with a decaff coffee. Indeed, I had eaten well and have probably piled on the pounds. But with all the miles of walking I have done all day, I have no regrets.

    Back in my room, I threw in the last bits of my belongings into my case, asked for a hotel receipt and went down to the lobby. There I called for an Uber to get me to Paddington where Llew, who had texted me upon landing, let me know that he was on the Heathrow Express headed for Paddington. My Uber driver arrived just 8 minutes later and I was off and away in no time.

    Much against my expectations, Llew arrived at our friend's flat in Paddington about ten minutes before I did. It was a lovely reunion with him in the company of our friend Bande and some of his friends who happened to be at his flat too. All of them would be leaving and going out very shortly  and we would be left to our own devices. He showed us how the house keys worked, gave us a quick look around the kitchen so that we could help ourselves to anything we needed, we had another little tour of his flat and he was off. Llew assured me that he was neither sleepy nor tired and that we should, in fact, get out immediately and enjoy the beautiful day. In fact, it was such a glorious day that I could not help thinking how lucky Llew was.

Getting Oyster Cards Topped Up:

    With no real plans on our agenda today (I had wanted to give Llew a chance to ease into his new time zone in London and get over jetlag with a good long rest), we simply decided to walk down to Paddington Station and top up our Oyster cards. My unlimited week-long Travelcard had expired and Llew had no money on his card. We did a top up and discovered, to our horror, that the day pass cost 14.50 pounds! My Word! I remembered a time when I had paid 3.50 for it! But, of course, that was donkey's years ago...

    We took the Bakerloo Line and got off at Charing Cross.  From there, we took Bus 11 to do the See London route just so that Llew could orient himself to London and we could gradually get into our London time together.  All went well until we arrived towards the middle of the King's Road at Chelsea where we were so badly affected by roadworks and did not move even a few meters in half an hour. Frustrated, we hopped off near The Blue Bird and crossed to get over toward Fulham. Once there, because it was such a great day, we simply walked along the Fulham Road all the way to Bibendum at the Michelin Headquarters. I love that building with its lavish ceramic decor in the Art Deco style. Its lovely pastel green is also a treat for the eye. Just a few feet ahead of us, we began walking along Brompton Road. I expected to pass the main gate to Brompton Cemetery but instead, just ahead of us was Brompton Oratory and I knew at once that we were next door to the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Lunch at the V&A:

    Llew had started to feel peckish by this time and I suggested we get to our favorite set of cafes in the V&A Museum--the Poynter, Gamble and Morris Rooms. Llew thought it was a great idea and, in a few minutes, we were at the counter. We chose a Middle Eastern Mezze wrap which was served with two salads--a Cucumber and Tomato Salad and a wonderful coleslaw.  This was more than enough for the two of us and we enjoyed it thoroughly as it was just delicious. 

Looking at a Few More Highlights at the V&A:

    As I did not have the time to show Amy a few of my highlights, the other day, I told Llew that I really did want to go and see some of my favorite items. And so, we did actually find The Age of Innocence by Alfred Drury which is a depiction of his friend's daughter, Gracie Doncaster. I also took him to the South Asian section to look at the finger ring and the wine cup in carved jade that belonged to Moghul Emperor Shah Jehan and the most famous item in the entire museum, Tipu's Tiger. This item which is almost a life-size replica of a tiger mauling a British soldier is actually a music box. When wound up, the tiger roars and the soldier screams in agony. This drama was said to be of great amusement to Tipu Sultan who had ordered the item to be especially made  for him. Because he was also known as the Tiger of Mysore, this item was doubly significant to him. How it came into the possession of the V&A is probably a result of his defeat at the Battle of Seringapatnam. Stripped of his stature and his belongings, he probably did not even know his Tiger had reached British shores.

    Next, Llew and I went in search of the incredible Ceramic Staircase that never fails to take my breath away as I am a huge fan of Ceramics. When we did find it, just behind the Buddhist Sculpture section, I simply could not stop taking pictures. Every bit of this staircase that winds to the top floor is made of ceramics. The project also includes a memorial to Henry Cole, the first Director of the Museum, who died in 1882. He had hoped to see such lavish decoration all over the museum--but, sadly, financial support ran out and this masterpiece is restricted to just one section of the museum. The entire project was executed by the Minton Pottery Company in Stoke-on-Trent. The vignettes represent Science, the Arts and a number of other disciplines. It is certainly, to my mind, a part of the museum that no one should miss and I was sorry we did not cover it when Amy took my highlights' tour.

    As we walked back, we stopped at the Cast Court to examine Michelangelo's and Donatello's Davids at closer quarters. Of course, Llew recognized the genius of Dale Chihuly immediately in the central chandelier in the lobby as we are both fans of Chihuly (as is Chriselle).

Getting Back Home for a Rest:       

    It was a sheer coincidence that Llew arrived in London on the day of the FA Finals when Chelsea Football Club (his team) were playing against Liverpool at Wembley at 4.45 pm. He had already warmed me that he hoped to get a nap before the match began because he just did not want to miss it.

    So we walked back to Gloucester Road Tube station, past the Museum of Natural History and the number of people thronging the streets and took the Circle Line back to Paddington. Back at our friends' place, we got our stuff organized in his spare room and as Llew went off for a nap, I communicated with a few friends and blogged. Both Llew and I took naps and felt deeply refreshed.

Watching the FA Cup Finals and Eurovision:

    Of course, at 4.45 pm on schedule, we sat down to watch the FA Cup Finals. I made us a cup of ginger and honey tea each which we ate with chocolate eclairs from Marks and their lovely Belgian Chocolate and Hazelnut Cookies and it felt great to finally have tea-time again! Somewhat disappointingly, the match went into the Penalty shoot out and with a huge number of very tense moments, Liverpool won! Poor Llew! Not too long after, I  switched to the Eurovision contest that was being televised from Turin in Italy. I was excited that after having heard about it for decades, this was the first time ever that I would actually be in England and could catch it as the rest of the country did. Sam Rider, Britain;s contestant, did well for a long time when it came to the scoring; but, as my friend Barbara rightly predicted, Ukraine did win it--in a massive show of public support. 

 Dinner In Paddington:

    Llew's lack of sleep on the red eye flight meant that he spent a good part of the afternoon catching up on some shut-eye. I was delighted to find Gavin and Stacey, one of my favorite British sitcoms on the Gold Channel--and I did dip into it quite excitedly! But by 8.45 pm, I woke Llew up so that we could both go out and get a bite to eat.

    Fountains Abbey Pub was just a block from our building and I looked forward to a Guinness and he a glass of Cab! But it was not to be as we discovered, to our disappointment, that they pub has not begun serving food yet. There went the thoughts of our pub grub!  

    Not daunted, we walked a few meters ahead and found a very modest, very nondescript eatery called La Tazza Restaurant. A brief glance at the menu outside told us we'd find something sustaining inside. Llew found his glass of Cab, but since the stout was not on tap, I preferred to avoid a canned drink. We ended up eating a Big Greek Salad (a la Elaine in Seinfeld) with mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers and olives and a really marvelously creamy and super scrumps Penne a la Pesto with gigantic mushrooms. Best of all was the long, non-stop chatter between us as we had so much to say to each other, so much news to convey, so many plans to make for the future. It is simply marvelous how good it is to be together again after almost 6 months.

    And then, well sated with a superb meal, we walked the block back to our building. Our friend Bande had returned home and we spent some time gabbing with him as we enjoyed a bowl of vanilla ice-cream together. And then it was time to say Good night. We are looking forward to the days ahead of us as we have plans to spend a day at Crystal Palace Park with friends, take a sailboat to the Isle of Wight for lunch with a new friend, spend two days exploring Liverpool and then returning to move on to Oxford and the Cotswolds. What a great time we expect!

    Until tomorrow, Cheerio! 

Bloomsbury in Sussex--Visiting the Homes and Haunts of the Bloomsbury Group, Lewes and Rodmell.

Bloomsbury in Sussex--Visiting the Homes and Haunts of the Bloomsbury Group, Lewes and Rodmell.

Lewes and Rodmell, Sussex 

Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Getting Ready for a Long Journey:

    Amy and I set our alarms today as we had a long way to go and timed tickets for entry into our first port of call. We were headed to Sussex to experience a part of what is called 'Bloomsbury in Sussex'. This title derives from the fact that two of the most prominent members of the Bloomsbury Group--a posse of intellectual and creative people who congregated in each others' homes, in the early decades of the 20th century in Bloomsbury in London, rented homes in this part of the UK. Virginia Woolf, the novelist and writer, made her home at Monk's House, a small cottage in the village of Rodmell and her sister, Vanessa Bell rented a farm called Charleston Farmhouse in the larger town of Lewes, about a 25 minutes' car drive away. I had, of course, studied the works of the Bloomsbury Group as a college undergrad, but it was about 35 years ago that I taught one of Woolf's stories. It was set in Monk's House in Rodmell and I remember thinking then what utter fun it would be to actually visit the house. Well, I certainly had to wait half a lifetime... 

I awoke early, as usual, at about 5.30 am and lost no time getting a shower and eating breakfast downstairs in the Thyme restaurant. I had a croissant with butter and asked for a hot chocolate today. I did follow this up with a Full English breakfast in order to fuel myself for the rest of the day. In fact, I was down in the restaurant at 6.30 pm, exactly when it opened. I told Amy that she should get ready by 7.00 am so that we could leave on time to arrive  at Victoria Rail Station by 7.45 am. As it turned out, we were ahead of schedule, being there at 7.30 am. Amy got herself a croissant and a coffee while I headed to the Ticket Counter to buy us return tickets to Sussex. The tickets were pricey--37.50 pounds return for each of us! Wow! But this is not the place to which you go everyday--indeed, I have waited for what seems like a lifetime to get to Sussex on this literary excursion and I regretted not a bit of it.

    Our train headed to Ohre was scheduled to leave at 7.54 am. We were to get off at Lewes, our first stop. It took us a little over an hour to get there on the Southern Railway. As might be expected, we did chat for a bit but were soon lulled to sleep by the rhythmic movement of the carriage. Both of us awoke when we were already in Sussex as was evident from the vast expanses of green English countryside outside our window. There were sheep and cows and horses in pasture not to mention views of the Sussex hills that put us completely in the mood for our day in the country.

        When we arrived at Lewes, we headed straight for the taxi stand as, sadly, this is the only way to get to Charleston Farmhouse which was our first stop. There is no public transport, no buses of any kind to get there. Taxis are pricey, no doubt, which was why Amy and I were pleased to be together on this expensive excursion. We lucked out in finding a really well-informed taxi driver called Steve who turned out to be treasure trove of information about the Bloomsbury Group. He told us that he regularly drove one of the current members of the family from Lewes station to Charleston Farmhouse and that she often hired him to drive her from Lewes to her home in London.  He could not remember her name but Amy and I rather think it was Nerissa, one of the daughters of Angelica Garnett, a daughter of Vanessa by her brief relationship with the homosexual Duncan Grant. More about the complicated genealogy of this family later.

    The taxi ride took us about 20-25 minutes and we actually arrived at Charleston Farmhouse at 9.45 am. We had timed tickets for 10.00 am (20 pounds each) which made us two of the earliest entrants into the house today. I had deliberately bought tickets for early in the day as we needed to move on to Rodmell and I had no idea how far away all these spots were from one another. 

Arrival at Charleston Farmhouse:

    Vanessa Bell, daughter of Leslie Stevens, a Victorian philosopher who had a home in Bloomsbury, London, developed into an artist. She was the sister of the famous novelist, Virginia Stevens--later Virginia Woolf (following her marriage to diplomat-civil servant Leonard Woolf). Vanessa fell in love and married art critic, Clive Bell. When World War I broke out, as they were both conscientious objectors, they had to engage in some kind of productive activity (farming was one such) to avoid being sent to prison. Hence, they joined hands with the farmer who owned a large farm in Sussex called Charleston Farmhouse and found employment under him. During the war, they were fully engaged in farming as part of the war effort. After the war ended, having fallen in love with the country lifestyle, they rented Charleston Farmhouse and used it as a weekend retreat all year round. They also spent the entire summer for several years in this place and turned the house into their own personal studio. Apart from sitting at their canvases and painting all day, they poured their creativity into every inch of space surrounding them--walls, ceilings, floors, plus furniture (beds, tables, chairs, chest of drawers and cupboards)--all received the benefit of their creative attention as they decorated every available surface with their paints and palettes. As if this were not enough, they turned to pottery and created dozens of utilitarian objects (plates, mugs, even lamp-shades) in terracotta that they fired in a kiln at the back of their farm.  And when they were not painting, they were gardening--the garden designs also received the benefit of their sensitivity to color so that it is clearly evident that a pink-mauve-purple-white color palette was selected in all the plantings. 

    Vanessa and Clive had two children--a son named Julian who was killed at the age of 29 while serving as an ambulance driver in the Spanish Civil War in 1931 and another son named Quentin who survived them. When her relationship with Clive became rocky, Vanessa turned for solace to Duncan Grant, also a fellow-artist and a member of the Bloomsbury Group. He was a homosexual but the brief liaison he had with Vanessa led to the conception of their daughter Angelica. However, she was never told that Grant was her biological father and she reached the age of 18 before she became aware that Clive Bell was not her father. Later in her own life, she married the writer David Garnett who had, for a while been the homosexual lover of Duncan Grant. In other words, she married her father's sometime lover! With Garnett, Angelica had four children, one of whom was Nerissa (of whom the taxi-driver spoke). Vanessa's brief relationship with Grant caused a rift in her marriage to Clive Bell but as they moved so much in the same circles, they remained friends. In fact, Bell who had moved out of Charleston Farmhouse when Grant moved in, returned to live in it and claimed three rooms at the top of the house from which he continued to paint. Later, the threesome, still closely connected as friends, built a large studio (which we visited) where they would paint in unison. Grant painted a picture of Vanessa still painting in the same studio at Charleston at the age of 81, a year before she passed away. In their creative passion, these occupants of Charleston created murals, frescoes, countless oil paintings, ceramics, fabric designs, rugs, pottery, etc. They regularly invited their friends to join them for the weekend--so that the home saw occupancy by leading economists such as John Maynard-Keynes, the novelist E.M Forster, the historian Lytton Strachy, the artist Dora Carrington and the art critic Roger Fry. The home was always buzzing with  creative and intellectual energy. 

    Many of the members of the second and third generation, parented by Vanessa and Clive Bell, have become artists themselves, eg. Quentin. He was also keen on writing a biography of his Aunt Virginia Woolf and invited all members of the family who had ever corresponded with her to send him their letters written by her.  These he archived with care so that they became a fine chronological account of the tangled relationships of these folks who respected each other enormously and waltzed in and out of intimate relationships without losing their friendship. Quentin's archive soared in value as the works of the members of this group grew in stature and fame. The letters were sold to a collector and the proceeds were used to buy Charleston Farmhouse which is now retained in exactly the same way it was when the Bells (and later Duncan Grant) lived in it. 

    Walking through the rooms, that have a guide in each one, is to receive a whole education in the life, lifestyle and works of some of Britain's most famous early 20th century public figures. There are paintings everywhere--portraits of each other and self-portraits, plus all manner of functional items used in daily life. These are simply too numerous to name and I am glad that we were allowed to take pictures everywhere because the pictures I took will allow me to peruse them at leisure and relive what has to have been one of the highlights of my travels in the UK on this visit. You start out in the kitchen and weave your way through all the public reception rooms on the ground floor including a living room-cum-library, a dining room, a withdrawing room where they had after-dinner coffee and a bunch of bedrooms on the top floor, many of which were guest rooms occupied by their weekend guests and then dedicated to them and, therefore, decorated in their style with their personal belongings. It was complicated indeed, the lives these folks led, but it fueled their creativity and provided inspiration for their endless output.

The Gardens at Charleston Farmhouse:

    The gardens at Charleston Farmhouse were very much the domain of Vanessa and Clive Bell. Not only did they enjoy sitting outdoors and painting in situ, but they were avid gardeners themselves. Amy and I were very lucky to see the gardens in spring when lilacs and wisteria scented the pathways, irises in purple and white popped up everywhere, loads of blue forget-me-nots and stately foxgloves in the same pink-purple palette made for the most charming stroll. Every so often we would come across statuary, urns, etc. that added to the decorative value of the property. We took innumerable pictures within the walled garden and on the banks of an artificial pond that was filled with water-lilies. Outside, it is still a working farm and the smell of horse dung hung heavily in the air. In keeping with the scent, we saw horses and a farm dog clopper down the lane outside. 

    We had begun our tour of the house perusing a set of ceramic plates that had been commissioned to be created by Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant. They chose to portray Famous Women from history and these made a stunning display at the visitor reception area. Our tour ended with a visit to Vanessa's studio at the very top of the house, a space which has been recently refurbished. The widow overlooks the garden below and the Sussex countryside in the distance. All of these elements added to the fantastic ambience of the place. We did not leave before visiting the cafetaria, the loo and, quite by chance, another exhibition in a barn by Langley and Bell called 'Hidden Artists' that featured the interior of artists' studios through the centuries, the personal collection of an art dealer called Katrin Bellinger.  Amy and I were most enchanted by it as we had a chance to see either paintings, drawings or photographs of the interiors of the studios of some of the greatest artists in the world from Picasso and Vanessa Bell to Henri Cartier-Berenson.

Onward to Monk's House in Rodmell:

        We had made arrangements with our taxi-driver Steve to send a taxi for us at 12.15 pm to take us onward to Rodmell and he arrived on schedule. He told us that the drive would take us about 25 minutes which offered us the opportunity to survey the sprawling Sussex countryside as well as engage in lively banter with a cabbie. He was delighted that we were from the USA and told us that he had an "auntie" in Seatle but had never been to the States himself.  He had, however, traveled extensively in Canada from the Rockies to Vancouver and we had a grand time discussing Canadian trails with him.

Arrival at Rodmell: 

          Amy and I had expected to have a light lunch in a cafe that we hoped would be run by the National Trust that manages the property called Monk's House. To be honest, I was looking forward to a nice cheese scone and a nice slice of coffee-walnut cake as those are my favorite things to eat in the National Trust tea rooms. Alas, there was no cafe at Monk's House which turned out to be a really small place. No wonder the entry fee was only 7.50 pounds each (as opposed to 20 pounds at Charleston). Anyway, in just a little while, both of us were starving as I had eaten a very early breakfast and Amy was surviving on a single croissant and coffee. Thankfully, she had a big bag of roasted, salted almonds in her bag and we ate those greedily before our tour began.

A Tour of Monk's House:

    Now a word about the complicated life of the other sister, Virginia. She was an exceedingly talented writer and she gave the world the Stream-of-Consciousness Novel that records the internal monologue of her characters with barely any plot at all. Her novels, Mrs. Dalloway, To the Lighthouse and The Waves are among the most well-known of English novels. Virginia was passionate about her craft and worked hard at her writing. She always resented the fact that, as woman, she and her sister Vanessa, were actually expected to devote some part of their day to running a home, unlike their brothers from whom there were no such expectations. Hence, she wrote her iconic essay, "A Room Of One's Own". And it was at Monk's House that she was able to create this!

    So how did a married woman in the 1920s manage to have a room of her own? Well, because although she married Leonard Woolf, a respected diplomat who had spent long years in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), it was a well-acknowledged fact that Virginia was a lesbian and had no intimate physical relationship of any kind with her husband. In fact, she is known to have had a lesbian relationship with Vita Sackville-West, the Edwardian aristocrat who was born into a titled family but could not inherit her family estate at Knole House (which I have visited on a previous stay in the UK) in Kent. In fact, Vita married another diplomat, Harold Nicholson, and together they bought Sissinghurt Castle which they created into a family home around which they built the most gorgeous gardens (which I have also visited previously). 

    Vita and Virginia spent a lot of time together at Knole, which became the setting of Virginia's novel Orlando. It would appear that Nicholson accepted Vita's bi-sexual lifestyle as did Leonard Woolf, for both sets of couples remained married although, in the case of Virginia, she lived with Leonard as merely a room mate. Hence, Virginia had no children. She was wracked by mental ill-health all her life. Despite her vast ingenuity and amazing literary proficiency, she suffered frequent bouts of a form of depression that is now recognized as bipolar disorder. Not surprisingly, she took her own life by going swimming in the nearby River Ouse with her pockets weighed down with rocks. Subsequently, Leonard formed an intimate relationship with a Tracy Ritchie, also an artist, who moved into Monk's House where she painted and he gardened. 

    A Tour of Monk's House is also self-guided with a guide in every room. Only three rooms on the ground can be visited--the living room, the dining room and the kitchen. The rooms upstairs have been modernized, over the years, by the various tenants who rented it after Leonard passed away. It was only in recent years that the National Trust acquired the property and have lavished time and money trying to keep it up to snuff--however, they have kept the upper floor out of reach of visitors as the ambience is not of the 1930s and visitors are generally disappointed by the experience. However, you can see paintings done by either Vanessa or Duncan Grant and all manner of accessories that were made by artistic members of the Bloomsbury Group scattered all over the house. So, overall, this house offered much less to the visitor than Charleston did. But the gardens are just as lovely.

    The tour winds its way, eventually, to Virginia's private bedroom where she had a bed, a desk and a wash-basin: a sort of contemporary bedsit. This is the Room of her Own for which she longed and where she did end up writing most of her best-known novels. It is bright and light-filled and overlooks the chirping birds alive outside with spring's new lease on life. I loved it. 

The Gardens of Monk's House:

    Leonard was an avid gardener and much of the garden at Monk's House is his handiwork. Here the color palette is different--a lot of yellow and a great deal of pink. Magnolia trees were in full bloom in these gardens and their huge, saucer-like flowers in pink and magenta, were stunning. There were also staggeringly beautiful yellow parrot tulips and the largest pink peonies I have ever seen. We also saw lilacs hanging low from their bushes in the deepest shade of royal purple--they were unbelievably fragrant. How marvelous it is to see cherry blossom on the trees here in the spring in England! There is a beautiful old church right in front of the house and it is not surprising that artist-visitors to Monk's House, painted it often as its spire is utterly picturesque. The best part of these gardens are that they overlook the South Downs Way, a national trail that goes from Winchester to Margate past the towering white chalk cliffs known as the Seven Sisters. These Stevens Sisters were great lovers of Nature as well as having a devotion to all manner of things creative.  

    When we were done perusing the house, we took a stroll through the quaint village of Rodmell as we had a few minutes' wait for our taxi that would take us back to London. It was not long before the cabbie did show up and off we went. 

On the Train Back to London:

    Since the small packet of almonds that Amy and I had shared simply did not cut it, we picked up cheese and pickle sandwiches at Lewes railway station with chocolate chip cookies and oat and raisin cookies before we boarded our train back to London. The rain had begun again and we felt so fortunate that we had missed it altogether and had been granted a truly impeccable day, weather-wise. In the train back, as we were both exhausted (we had walked for about 8-9 miles), we both fell asleep and awoke only as the train pulled into Victoria station.

    As I had run out on juice on my phone (taking too many photos), we decided to go back to our hotel to charge my phone before the next item on our agenda: this was a visit to Sky Garden, a London attraction to which I had never been.  

Visiting the Sky Garden:

    Amy and I had acquired tickets to visit the Sky Garden which, I am told, is a rooftop atrium garden and one of London's newest attractions.  Tickets here too are timed and ours were for 5.30 pm. We left our hotel at 4.30 pm confident that we would get there on time. However, the heavens had opened out viciously and there was such a heavy downpour that all buses seemed to have crawled to a halt. We stood at our bus stop for over half an hour before we realized that the buses we needed had been diverted and would not stop at our stop! Deeply frustrated, we changed bus stops and still were not sure of our route. I realized we would be very late indeed and wondered if our timed tickets would still be honored. They were not. Not willing to be daunted and with the rain stopping and the sun attempting valiantly to make an appearance, we decided to take a ride on Bus No. 15 to see Central London with all its monuments and buildings for free. I was not entirely sorry to have missed the Sky Garden today as clouds and mist would almost certainly have obscured our views. Furthrermore, Llew and I have tickets for the same attraction later next week--we know now not to be late as they will not permit late entrants!

On the See-London Bus:

    And so we hopped into a bus that began at Mansion House (No. 15) and rode it all the way to Trafalgar Square from where we jumped into a No. 11. This would take us all the way to Chelsea and Fulham and Amy was excited to be in it. As expected, we passed by every major monuments as I kept up a running commentary. Amy was happy to see the Houses of Parliament again because, as an undergraduate, she had actually interned here for a whole year! I did not know this about Amy! During our long chats, I also discovered that her mother is a very talented artist. Amy showed me a bunch of paintings executed by her mother over the years. Some of them were so good that I felt sorely tempted to give her a commission. 

    Soon, we were sailing down the King's Road towards World's End when Amy suggested we hop off and have a nice dinner somewhere as we had been subsisting on mere snacks today. 

Slap-Up Dinner at The Blue Bird in Chelsea:

    And so that was what transpired. We got off at Beauford Street, crossed the street to The Blue Bird and, before we knew it, were seated in a really upscale restaurant which had long been on my Bucket List. This restaurant that was the brain child of Jasper Conran, Terence Conran's son, but it has been bought up by Des Gunawardena, the restaurant king in London. However, the ambience and the crowd were just amazing and as we settled down amidst the pillows of the sofa, we chose our drinks.

    Amy decided to have a Pinto Grigio while I had a salted margarita. It was superb. Our order was equally simple but stunning: Burrata was one of our starters; the other was seared scallops. Both were outstanding. For our mains, we ordered Fussilli pasta with wild mushrooms and a fillet of Grilled Salmon that was done to perfection, served with extraordinarily tender asparagus and a lemony-cream sauce that was unforgettable. Amy and I looked back on our time together and shared many laughs and umpteen expressions of delight and awe as we sipped our drinks and enjoyed the happy camaraderie of two old friends who have known each other for a life time and are fully comfortable together. Tomorrow, Amy will join other friends in London and I will be left to my own devices.  I shall be spending a lot of time at the British Library. It is time to return to some serious research again.

    We felt fully sated with our meal--in fact, so sated that we had no room for dessert. Amy very generously insisted on treating me to the dinner--a way of saying Thank-you for inviting her to join me in London and for all the personal guidance I had provided through our rambles. I was absolutely delighted at the treat as eating at The Blue Bird had also been on my Bucket List for ages. So had Charleston and Monk's House! How marvelous that, one after the other, I was ticking items off it!

      We caught the bus back to our hotel and simply threw ourselves on the bed. We will certainly have a long lie-in tomorrow as we have no program except for a visit to the Victorian and Albert Museum as Amy would like me to give her my Highlights Tour of the place.

    Until tomorrow, cheerio...