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

Friday, September 12, 2025

London, UK

Today All About Doing My Favorite London Things!

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

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

Buying a 7-Day Oyster Travel Card:

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

Being a Sloane Ranger:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Making my Way to Covent Garden:

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

Lunch with a Favorite Student at Bill’s:

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

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

On the Bus to the Tower of London:

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

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

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

Seeing the Ceramic Poppies at the Tower of London:

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

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

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

Back on the Bus to Trafalgar Square:

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

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

Newbies and Others At the National Portrait Gallery:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viewing London By Night:

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

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

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

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Work at NYU, The City, Bolshoi Ballet

Monday, August 5, 2013

Work at NYU, The City, Bolshoi Ballet

            The morning passed quickly with me putting in about 3 hours at my computer even before I got up for breakfast. I skipped morning Mass as I was so engrossed in my work, I did not want to break my trend of thought.  We had granola cereal for breakfast at the Bishop’s table with tea and then I returned to my work. A good part of the next hour was spent sorting through the vast amount of paper I have accumulated through my handwritten or photocopied notes and research at the British Library. The administrative assistant at NYU-London at Bedford Square kindly agreed to assist me in mailing them back home to the States to save me having to pay excess baggage charges.

            I called Tim to find out if I could get over to his place to pick up the weighing scale he owns and took the bus two stops down to Holborn. With scale safely in my possession, I returned home and continued to cull down my papers. When that was done, I made a bundle of one pile and carried it with me to leave at NYU-London.

Lunch at Hare and Tortoise with my NYU-Office Mate:

            James Polchin and I share a very large office at our NYU campus in New York. Because he is currently posted in London, I have the office to myself and I do miss his presence. We had made plans to meet for lunch and to catch up on all that is happening at our London site. At 1.00 pm, James arrived at The Hare and the Tortoise at Russel Square’s Brunswick Center which has great pan-Asian food. My favorite is the Curry Laksa and I make sure I have it at least once during each of my visits to London. And that was exactly what happened. James ordered sushi and sashimi and I ate my super-large prawn, chicken and squid soup which was as terrific as I always remember it to be. We had a long and very informative exchange of information and ideas and he caught me up on all the changes that have occurred on our London campus since I worked here. We laughed, we joked, we tut-tutted over things and then it was time for the short stroll to Bedford Square. I said goodbye to James there and then settled down in my office to do a spot of photocopying and to print out a number of items that I need to send off to New York. I spent more than an hour getting all this work done and then I was off.

A Walking Tour of The City:    

            A steady drizzle had begun by the time I left my office and since I did not have my brolly—I am getting used to a London sans rain—I hopped into a bus up to Chancery Lane Tube station, then took the Tube to Bank. My idea was to explore the mainly commercial heart of The City of London which comprises banks, financial institutions, etc. and a bunch of beautiful old Wren and Hawksmore churches.

            When I got off the Tube, I was right outside the great Neo-Classical edifice of Mansion House which is the office of the Lord Mayor of London (not to be confused with the Mayor of London who is Boris Johnson—BoJo—and who is ensconced at City Hall, Norman Foster’s overturned glass pudding bowl on the South Bank). Right opposite is Sir John Soane’s Bank of England Building and right next to it is the Royal Exchange Building (the original Stock Exchange Building of London). These structures are fabulous and I do adore them. But with the drizzle becoming a steady shower, I quickly found my way to the Church of St. Stephen Walbrook (on Walbrook Lane) only to be disappointed because it was closed. Bummer!

            Not losing any time, I found the next church on my agenda: St. Mary’s Abchurch which, thankfully, was open. I stepped inside and took in the lovely aged interior with its box pews, superb wood carved altar and reredos by Grinling Gibbons and painted dome (thought to have been the work of James Thornhill but now attributed to someone else).

I spent some time there in prayer before venturing out in the rain again to look for St. Mary’s Woolnoth. This church sits at the cross roads with the Bank of England. It is one of Nicholas Hawkmore’s masterpieces with its two flat spires (reminiscent of Sainte Supplice in Paris). Unfortunately, it too was closed but I could admire its beautiful exterior and its characteristic Hawksmore’s touches—the solid pillars high up near the spires, for instance.

Tired and with plans disrupted by the rain, I rode on the bus to St. Paul’s and got back home about 5.00 pm. Having slept very late at night, I took a half hour nap as I had wonderful evening plans in store—I was off to see the Bolshoi Ballet straight from Moscow perform at the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden—a treat, I knew, that would be unbeatable. I simply could not get over the fact that for about 30 years since I have been coming to London, I had never seen a performance at Covent Garden and then suddenly I was seeing two in two weeks (Puccini’s La Rondine had been my first, two weeks ago)!

The Bolshoi Ballet at Covent Garden:

            Cynthia had prawn sandwiches and marble cake ready for me with tea. I wolfed it down and showered and got ready for my night out. On the Tube to Covent Garden and after a short stoll through Floral Street, I was at the theater at 7. 15 ready for my 7. 30 pm performance. The Royal Opera House looks gorgeous at night with all the lights on—the last time I had been for La Rondine, it was a matinee performance and the place wore a very different look. This was far more elegant.

            Well, I had a lovely seat and I settled down eagerly to give myself up fully to the enjoyment of the spectacle. And a spectacle it was indeed! I mean, what can I say except look for superlatives? Everything was brilliant—from the music to the choreography to the technical flawlessness of the ballet dancers as they performed The Sleeping Beauty to the stirring music of Tchaikovsky. For the next three hours, with an intermission which allowed me to stretch my legs and walk to the gorgeous glass conservatory restaurant, I had a simply splendid time. The lady sitting next to me also was alone—she is a ballet freak and extremely well-informed about it. We struck up a lively dialogue and I learnt a great deal from her in a short time. Indeed, I realized that this was my very first full-length ballet ever and what a dream it turned out to be. I could not have been more elated!

            I got back on the Tube to St. Paul’s and walked briskly home at 10. 30 pm when there were still enough people about to not make me feel uneasy. The rest of the household was asleep when I entered, so I tiptoed up to my room and settled down for the night.

            I did not fall asleep right away, however, as I have a problem with my Outlook which is allowing me to receive email but no longer allowing me to send any. I spent over an hour on the phone with a technician before my minutes on my phone card ran out and my session timed out. Overall, a hopeless experience that left me more frustrated and disappointed than over. But tired and upset, I fell asleep and hoped to sort things out tomorrow.

          Until tomorrow, Cheerio!

 

A Walking Tour of Covent Garden and 'Macbeth' on Screen

Saturday, July 20, 2013

London:

            I awoke about 6. 30 with a splitting headache and decided I needed to do something about it. Two hours and two Tylenols later, headache was history and I was able to get out of bed at 8.30 and start my day. Phew!

            Spent most of the morning doing errands—began packing for my move to my next lodgings at St. John’s Wood. This took about half an hour. Next, I made gift packs for all my friends here who have ‘lent’ me their homes in which to stay.  Then I got on the bus to St. Paul’s to my friend Cynthia’s home so that I could leave my large suitcase at her’s and travel about London from one week to the next with a much smaller case that she lent me last week. Unfortunately, she was in the shower, so I did not meet her. Left the suitcase outside her door and returned home on the bus. I caught up on email and did some steady work for a couple of hours. I breakfasted on the last of my muesli and honey yoghurt and then made a sandwich for lunch and got dressed. By the time I left the flat, it was close to 1.00 pm. I took the Tube to Covent Garden in order to start my walking tour of the area following the route in DK Eyewitness Guides.

A Walking Tour of Covent Garden:          

          Holborn, where I am currently based, is dead at the weekends—which is a good thing if you live here as it gives you some respite from the constant buzz of the area that is highly commercial and profoundly legal. (The Tube stop is called Chancery Lane which, if you are a fan of Charles Dickens, you will know was the setting for his novel Bleak House filled with lawyers and the case called ‘Jarndyce and Jarndyce’ which went on endlessly).

          So when I hit Covent Garden, the contrast was startling. The area was jam-packed with tourists. There were thousands everywhere I turned. Streaming out of the Tube station in droves, they choked Long Acre Road and spilled into the Piazza at Covent Garden in such numbers, you’d think London was the only place in the world to which a visitor could go!

          I followed the route which took me into Neal Street to the charming little courtyard called Neal’s Yard. Here, buildings painted in bright and vivid colors are clustered around a small space filled with health food stores and restaurants. Everyone seemed to be doing a thriving trade with people eating on the pavements in café trottoir settings a la Paris. These were once warehouses that have been jazzed up to become exorbitant real estate in which only the fanciest shops and boutiques have their glass fronts.

            Just across the street was Thomas Neal’s—another warehouse building that has been converted into an indoor mall. It has a restaurant on the basement level and an interesting light fixture replicating giant light bulbs on the main level. I popped in, took a few pictures and walked out towards Seven Dials which was also packed. It is like a miniature Eros statue (I mean the one at Piccadilly) in the number of people that had congregated around its base. It stands at an important crossroads that is marked by a column on top of which are six sundials—the seventh is the point of the column itself. Although the original column dated back to the 17^th century, this is a more contemporary replica.

            On through Monmouth Street I proceeded, to arrive at colorful St. Martin’s Court (previously Ching Court) also filled with eateries, the main one belonging to Jamie Oliver. Outside, there is Dishoom, the Indian restaurant with a difference—it serves Bombay street food and lots of chaat. It was packed with Indians having brunch. I stepped inside (as my friend Murali had blogged about it and I was keen to see it for myself) and found Bollywood posters from the 1960s as well as magazine pages from Eve’s Weekly and Femina which took me down Nostalgia Lane double quick! A really interesting restaurant that is worth a visit, I think.

            On I went towards Rose Street and Garrick Street to find The Lamb and Flag pub that has stood on this spot in a hidden corner since the 16^th century. Parts of the interior have been untouched since that time. I was encouraged to try their own brew—New Frontier ale--and it was welcome on another hot morning—although I have to say being cloudy and overcast, it offered relief from the heat and humidity of the past few days. John Dryden was once seriously wounded in a brawl outside its doors in the alley because he had lampooned the Duchess of Portsmouth (one of the mistresses of Charles II) and there is a plaque to commemorate this shady event.

            As I walked towards Covent Garden, I spied Carluccio’s, an Italian restaurant chain that I absolutely love. It carries some of my favorite eats: their caponata and their lemon tarts are to die for and I never leave London without partaking of the genius of the chain’s founder, Antonio Carluccio. I popped in to look around and was rewarded with a few nibbles—sample olive oil served with focaccia bread and parmesan cheese and salami. Nice!

            By this time, I was close to Covent Garden’s lively Piazza that was fairly jumping with humanity. There were buskers galore all over the place entertaining the public with magic shows and musical offerings. I found Laduree, the French confectioner, has set up a tea room right on the piazza! How multi-culturall it is all becoming—Carluccio’s and Laduree only steps from each other. I love Laduree’s melange de maison tea (house blend tea) to which I had become introduced in Paris and I buy loads of it (now available in New York). I introduced my friends Michael and Cynthia to it when they were visiting me in Connecticut and now they are huge fans too! I stepped into Apple Market and into the many shops that line the market—once a famous flower market (setting for Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion and its film version My Fair Lady), today it does a brisk trade in all sorts of crafts. In neighboring Jubilee Market, there were more arts and crafts although on some days of the week there is vintage bric a brac (no more antiques—for those one has to go to the posh shops at Notting Hill or on Church Street).

            Circling around, I came to the corner that was once a coffee shop called Boswell’s (today it houses Balthazar, a restaurant). Dr. Samuel Johnson met his biographer Boswell in this space in the 18^th century and the fact is marked with a detailed plaque outside that tells the whole story. This area was well frequented by Dickens who was a dedicated theater buff and who spent most of his evenings watching dramatic performances in them. There was once a Theater Museum here but today it is a Film Museum. The Theater Royal is not too far away on Drury Lane (where the Muffin Man once did a roaring trade, according to the old nursery rhyme).

            Past Bow Lane I went and into Floral Lane (there was once a big flower market here, hence the name) to arrive at the Royal Opera House which, I am ashamed to say, after so many visits to London and after having lived here, I had never been inside! Of course, that had to be remedied, so in I went with the idea of taking a tour—only to discover that they had just closed tours down as the afternoon’s matinee performance was about to begin. I browsed around the crowded gift store before venturing to the Box Office myself to find out about Day Tickets. I discovered that they do sell those—so I will be back tomorrow to try and get one for Puccini’s La Rondine. However, what I did manage to get was Cultural Gold:  a ticket to see the Bolshoi Ballet later in August. Although it is not the best seat, it was one of the few remaining and I snagged it immediately. I might not have seen the Kirov Ballet at the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg in Russia, but here I was soon going to see the Bolshoi on at the ROH—it was just pure great luck!

            Ten minutes later, I was on the Tube heading home to shower and get dressed to go to Battersea to my friend Rosemary’s home. She had invited me to dinner before we set off for Chelsea-Fulham to see the National Theater’s Live screening of the final show of Macbeth coming from the Manchester Theater Festival starring Kenneth Branagh in the lead role. Roz had put together a light Smoked Fish (Salmon and Mackerel) Salad which she served with buttered bread and beer for starters. We set out in her car and drove into Chelsea (which has a very interesting and different look at night—I must explore it after dark, I think), parked in a small side street and entered the theater. Seating was free and we had our pick.

MacBeth on Screen in Chelsea-Fulham with Roz:

            The production was staged in a deconsecrated church in Manchester and the shape of the building dictated the design of the performance—the audience sat in the choir stalls. It was hot (I could see the audience fanning themselves) and the production was designed to take place in a mud pit. During the opening battle, they had rain pouring down on the mud making it a churning, slippery mess. The cast were dressed in thickly padded costumes and I felt for them in the heat. The opening with the three witches was hideous—God knows what the director did to them. They looked awful and sounded worse. Some of their best lines were lost in the sing-song manner they affected. Lady Macbeth was also a bit unappealing but Branagh as Macbeth and the actor playing McDuff were especially good. I am not sure it was the most orthodox Macbeth I have seen (and I have seen many staged versions) but this was memorable for its innovation and experimentation.

            It was 10. 45 when it ended. Roz dropped me to South Kensington Tube station from where I took the train and got home at 11. 20 pm exhausted and ready to drop right into bed after what had been a busy but very interesting day. 
          Until tomorrow, Cheerio!