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…

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!

Mass at Brompton Oratory, Museum-Hopping and Drink with a Colleague

Sunday, August 28, 2016
London
     Unbelievable that tomorrow will make a month since I arrived in this city! But then I think of how much I have covered, how much has been accomplished and I feel as if I have been here forever. Awaking at 6.30 am, I had the time to write a blog post before having a full English brekkie, making myself a blue cheese sandwich and heading out the door.

Off to the Brompton Oratory for Mass:
    Having checked the website last night, I found out that Mass at the Catholic Brompton Oratory in Kensington was at 10.00 am. So at 9.15 am, I stepped out. Bethnal Green had stirred by this time and there were a few people going about their business on the road. I hopped into a District Line train (which has to be the slowest line on the entire Tube system as the train makes its way sluggishly through the tunnels no matter what time of day unlike the other Lines that hurtle through them). At 9. 50, I arrived at South Kensington Station and a few minutes later, after a brisk five minute walk towards Cromwell Road, I arrived at the church.

Mass at the Brompton Oratory:
     The Brompton Oratory is Catholic London's response to the Anglican St. Paul's Cathedral.  I love this church. It is a grand affair, both inside and out. Multi-domed, it has commanding Neo-Classical pillars that draw you inside to a wide, high porch and then into a gorgeous church built in the grand Italian high Baroque style with more cupolas, domes and gilded pillars, a wealth of sculptural saints, numerous side chapels and a High Altar that remains in the pre-Vatican II position, i.e. up against a wall so that a priest turns his back to the congregation as he celebrates Mass. One Easter, a few years ago, Llew and I had attended the 11.00 am service which is still in High Latin with a full choir, incense, the whole shebang! This time, there were about 200 people in the church many of whom were French Catholics  (as I could tell from their conversation at the end of Mass)--which is understandable as 'South Ken' is Little Paris (for some reason, French expatriates in London have congregated in this vicinity). Hence, their patronage of this church.
      The priest was rather uptight, I thought, for being so young. But then it is probably the solemnity of his surroundings that affect his demeanor. His sermon was very good though, I have to say. You kneel at the rails to receive Communion, so it is all very old-fashioned. Sadly, there was no music as the full choir makes an appearance at the following Mass.
    When I emerged from the church about an hour later, it was drizzling--typical English weather--fair one minute, foul the other. Luckily, the porch provided wide shelter and encouraged socializing--which was when I heard all the French around me. But in five minutes, the shower passed and I pushed on ahead with my plan for the day--which was to attend the special exhibition entitled 'Curtains Up' that will be closing shortly, at the next-door Victoria and Albert Museum--so five minutes later, in I was.

'Curtains Up' at the V and A Museum:
     As its name suggests, 'Curtains Up' is a special exhibition on show biz created to celebrate the entertainment traditions of London's West End and New York's Broadway. It is on the second floor of the museum, past one of my favorite sections in the museum--the Jewelry collection. Inside, the space is transformed into a dark theater--you are supposed to imagine that you are inside it throughout the exhibition. And it was wonderful! Through costumes, playbills, real awards (Oscar, Emmy, Tony and BAFTA), posters, photographs, letters and recordings, we were taken through the glitz and glitter of that dramatic world. I saw original costumes worn by the likes of Michael Crawford (in the original Phantom of the Opera both at the West End and on Broadway), by Elton John, by Judi Dench, Maggie Smith and Laurence Olivier. There were video snippets from some plays that you could watch, recordings to which you could listen with accompanying ear-phones, a whole cubical section reproducing the set of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, loads of props from varied shows, operas, musicals-- including The Lion King. For any aficionado of the stage or screen, this is heaven.
     I spent about an hour and a half at this special exhibit, then at 12. 30 pm, I made my way back downstairs to the lobby to await the guide for the Introductory Tour. There, since I was a few minutes early, I began chatting with an Indian couple from Northampton--he, Sachin, turned out to be a museum aficionado with memberships at many London museums, and she, Rukmini, turned out to have Plantar Fasciitis when she was visiting New York, a few years ago. She fully understood my need to find a stool that would accompany me on the tour.

An Introductory Tour of the V and A Museum:
     I have taken this tour so often over the years that I am now pretty sure I can give it myself! Still, there are always new things to see because new objects are always added to the collection--so I hoped to be introduced to something quite spectacular on this tour. About twenty people had gathered for it and we made a jolly lot as we took off. During the course of her tour, the guide Marilyn Larsen, took us to the following objects:

1. The Raphael Cartoon Room: Every HL Tour covers this room as it is truly a treasure. Seven full-length paintings or 'cartoons' (two of which are done entirely by Raphael and five by his assistants) cover the walls of a large dimly-lit gallery. They were meant to be the models from which tapestry-weavers would create tapestries of the same size--based on the lives of St. Peter and St. Paul.  Six tapestries  are in the Vatican Museum (Llew and I had seen them when we were there, a few years ago), one is actually on the wall in this gallery, exactly opposite its mirror image in the painting. Marilyn informed us that a few years ago when Pope John Paul II had visited the Museum, the tapestries were moved from the Vatican to the V&A temporarily--it was the only time the entire set of cartoons  and tapestries were ever united and she is sure it will never happen again.
2. Chinese Vase: This is neither old nor perfect--so visitors are encouraged to touch it to feel the imperfections.
3. Porcelain Tea Cups by Philip Lin: I am not sure I got his name right but this is a modern Chinese-British ceramist whose tea cups feature tiny hands creating a mudra or gesture that stands for good luck. The work is so fine and so delicate that Queen Elizabeth is reputed to have given entire tea sets as diplomatic gifts to visiting dignitaries.
4. Bodhisatva Guanyin: A massive wooden seated figure from China, once fully gilded.
5. The Garden: She took us out into the garden at precisely the point where it started drizzling again--so in we came! There is a large sculptural pavilion in the garden right now--an installation from engineers in Stuttgart in Germany. Called the Elythra Pavillion Installation, it is reminiscent of beetles and is made entirely by robots. However, we merely looked at it and had to leave as a result of the rain--which was gone five minutes later. Like I said, typical English weather today!
6. 'Scandal' Sculpture by Charles Sargent Jagger:  Commissioned by Henry Mond for his London home . It is meant to be placed above a fireplace in Art Nouveau style. It features a nude man and woman and supposedly caused a  scandal when it was revealed. It is accompanied by a fire basket--all made of pewter.
7. Sculptures by Rodin and Painting of the Sculptor: We walked through the Sculpture Gallery where she pointed out two pieces by Rodin--John the Baptist Preaching and One of the male characters on the Gates of Hell. Accompanying  that section is a painting of Rodin by the English portraitist, John Lavery. Since Rodin gave many of this works to the museum, this painting represents Anglo-French artistic collaboration.
8. Central Chandelier by Dale Chihuly: The tour ended in the main lobby with an examination of the lovely chameuse and lemon chandelier by Chihuly, my favorite glass artist of all time and a fellow-American based in Takoma, Washington, outside of Seattle. What she didn't tell us is that Chihuly chose the colors based on the Victorian window panes that were made in the same pastel colors (I had learned this from another guide on another tour). She did tell us that the dome is inspected regularly to make sure it can still bear the weight, that it is cleaned once a year when the entire lobby is kept out of bounds for a couple of days and that it is on long-term loan from Chihuly. She also said that his work is so valuable that if one of the prongs should ever fall off, the museum will manually break it to pieces to ensure that no one person can make a lot of money from it!
9. Victorian Wedding Dress: In the Costume section (which I really do want to go back to see in detail), Marilyn took us to see a Victorian wedding dress. I learned that it was not until the wedding of Queen Victoria that brides wore white. She, being short, decided to wear a white dress at her wedding to Prince Albert--and ever since then she set the trend for bridal white. So it has nothing to do with purity or chastity or virginity. White dresses are worn just because Victoria was too small-made and thought that she would stand out better in a white dress when surrounded by all those male courtiers. Because she also worn an orange blossom wreath, brides have worn wreaths and veils since then!
10. Tipu's Tiger: No HL tour at the V&A is ever complete without this item. It is a wooden music box in the form of a tiger leaning over a British soldier and mauling him to death. When the handle on the box is turned (now much too fragile to be used), the tiger roars and the soldier shrieks. It was said to be made for Mysore's Tipu Sultan in the last years of the 1700s just before Tipu was vanquished by the British in the Battle of Seringapatnam.  It is the most popular item in the museum--for obvious reasons.

And that, as I can remember the tour, was it. Did I see anything new? Yes, the tea cups and the wedding dress. But it is always fun to take a guided tour in a museum as I like to see if I can get any tips on how to make my tours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art any better. And, of course, there is always something new to learn and appreciate on a tour with a new guide.
     When the tour was done, I took my stool with me and went off to the Gamble Dining Room to eat my sandwich and have a cup of coffee.  While there, I was joined at my table by another single female museum visitor called Suzanne which whom I had a lovely chat. We talked about our fondness for museums, for visiting them alone (so that we can see what we like and stay as long or as little as we want) and about some venues that I can explore (and of which I have never heard) such as the William Morris Gallery on the East Side where I live.
   While I was chatting with Suzanne, I received a call from my NYU colleague Brendan wondering if we could meet for a drink. He was headed to the National Gallery to see the Painter's Paintings exhibition and I wanted to continue my tour of the National Portrait Gallery. I told him we could meet for a drink at 6.00 pm. which would work perfectly for me as I could run one more errand in Hammersmith.

On the Bus to Hammersmith for Bus Route Maps:
     So, ten minutes later, I was on a bus to Hammersmith Bus Depot because I needed to pick up bus maps for Central, East and West London. The ones I have are so well used that they are breaking apart and I need to keep some for my London file. After I obtained them from the Information Kiosk, I sat on a return bus only hopping off for half an hour at Kensington High Street to browse through the thrift stores there. And I found the DVDs of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, both Parts 1 and 2 in an Octavia shop! I was thrilled. Now my Harry Potter series of DVDs is complete and I am learning that if it is British films I want to add to my collection at home, London's thrift stores is what I should be scouring. Across the street was Geranium, a place with wonderful vintage jewelry in the window...but as it was near closing time, I did not have much of a chance to browse.
     On the Bus again to the National Portrait Gallery, I got off at Trafalgar Square and walked along. I got myself a stool and returned to Gallery 18 and for the next hour, I completed my tour of the second floor. When next I get there, I shall start the Twentieth Century. I believe it will take me roughly two sessions to go over that museum and then turn to the Tates--London and Modern.

 A Drink with an NYU Colleague:
     Meanwhile, as the hands on the clock at St. Martin's In the Field Church crept to 6.00 pm, I made my way to the entrance of the National Gallery to meet Brendan.  It was so great to see him again. He will be spending this coming academic year teaching at London--a position I once held a few years ago. We decided to go and get a beer and as we walked towards Leicester Square on an evening that was teeming with tourists enjoying the lovely coolness of a summer's evening after intermittent spells of rain, we found a pub called The Porcupine on Shaftesbury Road. In no time at all, I was nursing my Guinness and exchanging news and views with m'coll--and about 7. 30 pm, we thought it was time to depart. We walked to the Tube station together and made plans to meet next week during Orientation at NYU.

Dinner and TV and Bed:
     I reached home at 8.00 pm, had a shower, put my dinner together and sat down to watch Making a Murderer--next episode.  Thankfully, I still have some entertainment at my finger tips, due to my laptop computer. And by 10.30 pm, with a very brief conversation with Llew (as I was both sleepy and tired), I fell asleep.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio... 

A Lonely Wedding Anniversary--Saved by Roses, Friend and Trans-Atlantic Communication

Saturday, August 27, 2016
London
     As I have already expressed, I am feeling far more lonely this time round in London than I ever did before on the many occasions I have lived alone here. It must have to do with the fact that I live in a house (not a flat) with no known neighbors in a vicinity to which I have never really warmed. This is adding to my sense of isolation. So preoccupied have I been with my general sense of unease about the neighborhood that I completely forgot it was my wedding anniversary today. Not even the fact that my Dad asked for my address and phone number two days ago, in order to call to wish me,  helped jog my memory.
     So I awoke at 6.00 am after a restless night as I am really really hot without a fan. I cannot open the windows as the street sounds keep me awake. So my bedroom is like a mini oven. The heat is making me wake up too early---but with little to do, I began blogging, followed by a bit of reading. I felt the urgent need to get away from London on a day trip--then remembered that I also want to curtail my walking. I thought about the Barnes Wetlands Center which I have never visited, but it would involve walking over vast acreage on a day when the mercury was expected to climb high. (I cannot wait for this heat wave to break.) There was perhaps Bletchley Park to which I could go--I loved the movie The Imitation Game about Alan Turing who broke the Enigma Code there plus I had watched a TV series entitled Bletchley Park about the role played by the women who were hired to write/decipher Code. But that too would involve a vast amount of trekking. It is better for me to give my feet as much rest as possible during the next few days to avoid the onset of plantar fasciitis again.

Rustling Up a Full English Brekkie At Home:
     The BnB at Dorset has given me a taste for full English brekkies and the prices at Morrisons' for sausages and bacon clinched the deal for me. I had bought eggs and the fixin's and decided to rustle one up. So into the kitchen I went and for the next half hour, I fried bacon and sausages and scrambled eggs and with the baked beans I had bought earlier, I had  myself one of them heart attacks on a plate! No tomatoes or mushrooms to soften the impact of all that protein. I debated for a second: should I/shouldn't I have some toast with it? Might as well cut the carbs, I thought. So that was it--with my decaff coffee, of course. I watched Saturday Kitchen on my laptop computer while I ate (as there is no TV here).
     Back upstairs in my room, I began working in earnest on the Powerpoint presentation that I would like to accompany my paper in Scotland. I transferred all the pictures I had taken on my I-phone at the British Library on to my email and then tried to save them on my desktop so that I could download them on to the presentation. No dice! I would need some advice on how to achieve that and my brother Roger would be the best person to help me. I was about to send him an SOS message. So you can imagine how shocked I was to get a whatsapp from my brother (at exactly that moment--mental telepathy?) wishing me for my anniversary. OMG, I thought! It is my wedding anniversary today! I completely forgot. That's what happens when you are so far away from a beloved spouse! By then clearly the US was awaking up. Within minutes, I found a response from Llew to Roger and then from Llew to me. I was, at that very minute, planning to call my Dad when Llew app-ed me to inform me that my Dad had been trying to call me but was not succeeding. He asked me to call Dad first and then we would talk.

International Anniversary Calls and VideoChats:
     So, of course, I called Dad. There was a lump in my throat at the end of our conversation for Dad, being my Dad, says things that always make me emotional. He said he had been trying to phone me by 6.30 am my time so that his call would be the first I would receive because he realized how low I would feel about being so far away from Llew on my anniversary!  And that did it! The general loneliness I have been feeling for  at least the past two weeks increased and I felt a terrible dread about being alone today. I needed to make plans with a friend for I had to do something with someone.
      A swift call to my friend Sushil clinched it. He invited me to his place for a cuppa followed by a saunter down to the National Portrait Gallery to see the winners of the BP Portrait Contest--as he had made plans to see them anyway. I had begun my own survey of the NPG the previous day--so his suggestion could not have been more apropos. There! That would do it. I would have a quick light lunch and leave in about an hour for Holborn where he lives.
      A few minutes later, Llew and I were on videochat together and he informed me that there was a delivery for me. Awww! He asked what time I would be leaving the house and when I said in  one hour, he said, OK, I must get off the call now. He had to call the place in London to ensure I was present to take delivery. I did not want him to leave the box on the porch. They had a very busy day ahead in Connecticut as Fr. Austin, the priest who married us in India, was expected at our place to spend the day as he was on a year-long Sabbatical himself in the US and Canada from Bombay. Llew needed to drive to Westchester in New York to pick him up and needed to make headway with the day--not to mention putting together a meal for our beloved guest.

 A Delivery and a Friend Save The Day:
     I descended into the kitchen again to eat lunch, then went up to get dressed and was just closing the window of my bedroom when the delivery man appeared at my gate below and said 'Hello'!  The box had arrived from Llew. Inside were two dozen red roses and a beautiful card! He had remembered and I had forgotten! Ssshhh. Don't tell him! Anyway, never have I been happier to see red roses delivered to my door. The last time this had happened was when I lived in London and received a similar delivery on Valentine's Day--my neighbor Barbara had commented on Twitter about how loved her next-door neighbor was! Or something like that! Anyway, I filled a tall beer glass with water to create a make-shift vase and took my roses and card up to my room so I would see them first thing when I awoke for the next few days.
     Five minutes later, I took the 25 bus to Holborn and arrived at Sushil's flat. There, after a fun reunion and a lovely natter, we sipped our tea (I am now carrying my own decaff tea bags and my own sweetener in my bag for no one in London has decaff tea except me) and assuaged any fear of being up at all hours of the night from the unnecessary shot of caffeine. About an hour later, Sushil and I left and took the 38 bus to Leicester Square from where we walked it out for a few minutes to the NPG.

Visiting the National Portrait Gallery with Sushil:
     Probably because it is still too hot outside, most London tourists are seeking refuge in museums and galleries. Or maybe friends and relatives of those contestants shortlisted for the prize had all descended on London to view their entries. At any rate, the gallery was packed. We were both most impressed by several of the entries although neither one of us thought the First Prize winner was any great shakes--but what do we know? After spending about 45 minutes surveying the high quality of work by amateur painters around the world, Sushil said goodbye and moved on, He had much of his plate and could not stay longer.
     I left the gallery and then got side tracked by some of the most recent work on the ground floor--portraits of Charles and Camilla and of Maggie Smith, Zaha Hadid and J.K. Rowling (an interesting three-dimensional cut-out creation) and when I had finished the entire ground floor, I went back up to the second floor to Room 11 and continued my chronological survey of the permanent collection. I went through the Stuarts and the Hanoverians and had completed Room 17 when the PA system announced the closure of the gallery at 5. 50 pm. Using a stool helped enormously in ensuring that I was not on my feet throughout.

Enjoying Trafalgar Square and a Visit to St. Martin-in-the-Fields Church:
      The sun had cooled down considerably by the time I re-emerged from the Gallery. There was a pleasant cool breeze playing and I was attracted to a busker right opposite the Gallery--a very beautiful young diminutive blonde with a lovely soulful voice who what do we know? After spending about 45 minutes surveying the high quality of work by amateur painters around the world, Sushil said goodbye and moved on, He had much of his plate and could not stay longer.
     I left the gallery and then got side tracked by some of the most recent work on the ground floor--portraits of Charles and Camilla and of Maggie Smith, Zaha Hadid and J.K. Rowling (an interesting three-dimensional cut-out creation) and when I had finished the entire ground floor, I went back up to the second floor to Room 11 and continued my chronological survey of the permanent collection. I went through the Stuarts and the Hanoverians and had completed Room 17 when the PA system announced the closure of the gallery at 5. 50 pm. Using a stool helped enormously in ensuring that I was not on my feet throughout.

Enjoying Trafalgar Square and a Visit to St. Martin-in-the-Fields Church:
      The sun had cooled down considerably by the time I re-emerged from the Gallery. There was a pleasant cool breeze playing and I was attracted to a busker right opposite the Gallery--a very beautiful young diminutive blonde with a lovely soulful voice who was singing with an accompanying guitar and a  was singing with an accompanying guitar and a then drummer (on a plain box). I found a seat and listened to two of her songs (both really lovely). Her mother who is quite obviously her manager was distributing her picture, collecting money, etc. After the performance, many folks walked up to ask her questions--I have never seen this sort of thing happen before. Clearly, she had an impact on many.
     As her performance ended and the crowd walked away, I headed into the Church of St. Martin-in-The-Fields next door. Had I remember my anniversary, I would have gone to Mass in the morning. But since it slipped my mind, I would have to do with a visit to a church. And it was in the cool interior of a very quiet and peaceful place that I gave thanks.
     Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the church and sat on the steps for a while taking in the sights of milling crowds all around the Square. It was cool by this time and since it was still so bright, I decided to take a bus and to enjoy sights of the city as I headed home instead of disappearing underground in a Tube. When a 23 arrived to take me to Liverpool Street Station from opposite Charing Cross,  I hopped in and in my favorite seat (upper deck, front and center), I was mistress of all I surveyed. At Bank, I changed into a drummer (on a plain box). I found a seat and listened to two of her songs (both really lovely). Her mother who is quite obviously her manager was distributing her picture, collecting money, etc. After the performance, many folks walked up to ask her questions--I have never seen this sort of thing happen before. Clearly, she had an impact on many.
     As her performance ended and the crowd walked away, I headed into the Church of St. Martin-in-The-Fields next door. Had I remember my anniversary, I would have gone to Mass in the morning. But since it slipped my mind, I would have to do with a visit to a church. And it was in the cool interior of a very quiet and peaceful place that I gave thanks.
     Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the church and sat on the steps for a while taking in the sights of milling crowds all around the Square. It was cool by this time and since it was still so bright, I decided to take a bus and to enjoy sights of the city as I headed home instead of disappearing underground in a Tube. When a 23 arrived to take me to Liverpool Street Station from opposite Charing Cross,  I hopped in and in my favorite seat (upper deck, front and center), I was mistress of all I surveyed. At Bank, I changed into a drummer (on a plain box). I found a seat and listened to two of her songs (both really lovely). Her mother who is quite obviously her manager was distributing her picture, collecting money, etc. After the performance, many folks walked up to ask her questions--I have never seen this sort of thing happen before. Clearly, she had an impact on many.
     As her performance ended and the crowd walked away, I headed into the Church of St. Martin-in-The-Fields next door. Had I remember my anniversary, I would have gone to Mass in the morning. But since it slipped my mind, I would have to do with a visit to a church. And it was in the cool interior of a very quiet and peaceful place that I gave thanks.
     Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the church and sat on the steps for a while taking in the sights of milling crowds all around the Square. It was cool by this time and since it was still so bright, I decided to take a bus and to enjoy sights of the city as I headed home instead of disappearing underground in a Tube. When a 23 arrived to take me to Liverpool Street Station from opposite Charing Cross,  I hopped in and in my favorite seat (upper deck, front and center), I was mistress of all I surveyed. At Bank, I changed into a drummer (on a plain box). I found a seat and listened to two of her songs (both really lovely). Her mother who is quite obviously her manager was distributing her picture, collecting money, etc. After the performance, many folks walked up to ask her questions--I have never seen this sort of thing happen before. Clearly, she had an impact on many.
     As her performance ended and the crowd walked away, I headed into the Church of St. Martin-in-The-Fields next door. Had I remember my anniversary, I would have gone to Mass in the morning. But since it slipped my mind, I would have to do with a visit to a church. And it was in the cool interior of a very quiet and peaceful place that I gave thanks.
     Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the church and sat on the steps for a while taking in the sights of milling crowds all around the Square. It was cool by this time and since it was still so bright, I decided to take a bus and to enjoy sights of the city as I headed home instead of disappearing underground in a Tube. When a 23 arrived to take me to Liverpool Street Station from opposite Charing Cross,  I hopped in and in my favorite seat (upper deck, front and center), I was mistress of all I surveyed. At Bank, I changed into a No. 8, got off at Bethnal Green, jumped into a 309 and was home by 7. 30 pm.

Celebrating an Anniversary from Afar:
     I had  a shower and had just made myself a dinner plate and was getting ready to watch Making a Murderer on Netflix when a Facetime call came from Roger. It was about tea-time in Connecticut and Fr. Austin had arrived at our place and Roger had returned from work and they were just about to get Llew to cut a cake for our wedding anniversary and wanted me to be a part of the ritual as well. So with Lalita sitting down at our piano and playing 'Congratulations' and the rest of the crowd including Fr. Austin and the children singing, and a lovely view of the cake and Llew grinning madly and me waving away from here in London, we had a trans-Atlantic  wedding anniversary celebration that warmed the cockles of my forlorn heart and made me feel so highly lifted. It was fantastic! What a lovely way to end the day of my wedding anniversary! Although so far away from Llew, we felt so connected.
    All that was left was for me to watch another episode of Making A Murderer (which is really compelling) and to go to bed at about 10. 30 pm. after checking out the Mass timings in a Catholic Church as I would like to offer up an anniversary Mass when tomorrow dawns.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...

An Errand in Ealing and Late Evening at National Portrait Gallery

Friday, August 26, 2016
London

     Today is the Friday of a long 'Bank Holiday' Weekend in the UK--not sure what the Bank Holiday is for...but everyone is in a jolly mood with three days ahead to veg out.
As for me, I have to admit that loneliness is beginning to hit me gradually coupled with the fact that my feet are issuing serious warning signals. I know the signs of plantar fasciitis and I dread them with all my heart. It is time to slow down and give my feet a rest. But that means, basically, staying put and at home. Not a very exciting prospect for me, to be honest, as finding things to keep me busy when I am home-bound is tough!
     Still, I awoke at 5.30 am today (for some unearthly reason) and could not get back to sleep. I decided to work on my paper and edit it as it is much too lengthy. After more than a hour, I stopped to have breakfast (muesli with yogurt and coffee) and continued working some more. I also wrote a blog post and started to think of a query letter I need to write for a potential publisher that a friend in New York has recommended to me.

Getting to Ealing:
     At 9.40 am, I stopped to get dressed as I had an errand to run in Ealing and some friends to meet. I left the house, on schedule, at 10.00 am for my 11.00 am appointment but as I was locking the door, a bus to Bethnal Green sailed past. Grrr! Since I am avoiding walking now, there was no choice but to wait for the next one which came in about 12 minutes. I took the Central Line train to Ealing and was there almost on time. I had a bit of a challenge trying to find their place but soon I was reunited with them--Greg and Cecil. I was meeting my friend Cecil after a few years, so it was great to see him again and to meet his son, Greg. They were lovely and we had a wonderful time before I left to explore Ealing Broadway.

Exploring Ealing Broadway:
      Yes, just half a block (in New York terms) from their place is Ealing 'High Street' called Broadway here--filled with every conceivable kind of restaurant, shop, fast food place, bar, etc. Around the corner, there is Marks and Sparks plus the famed Westfield Mall and hundreds of people to-in and fro-ing, making it vibrant and truly 'happening'. I entered Morrisons for the first time to see what the prices were like and got the shock of my life. Six butter croissants for 1. 20 pounds! That is 20p a croissant--how is that even possible? Soon I found that everything, simply everything is less than half of what I have been paying in Sainsburys or the Co-op--which, by the way, is the biggest rip-off. Everything is more pricey there! See? After a month, I am becoming proficient in comparison-shopping in the UK!
     As I left the store, a vendor placed a coupon for McD's in my hand--because the place is also fully surrounded by every American fast food outlet you can imagine (McDonalds, Subway, Burger King, even Five Guys!) I felt fully at home! By the way, there is also Tinseltown--my favorite burger and shake place in the UK on The Mall. I usually get a Ferroro Rocher Shake at the Tinseltown in Hampstead--so it was great to spot one here too. Naturally, I could not resist getting a Big Mac for 1.99 pounds with fries! So in I went! Yes, Into McDs!!! A place I never enter unless Llew and I are on the road, travelling by car in the US! I guess after about a month in the UK, I needed my American Fix! So I also ordered a mocha frappe to go with it--perfect on another sweltering day--and discovered that McD's in the UK does not accept credit cards that require a signature!!! Good Job I had some cash on me (I usually do not!) Anyway, I sat and wolfed down my caloric American meal and called my Dad for a chat. By the time I finished my meal and walked about with my food shopping from Morrison's, I decided to scrap the thought of wandering about M&S (anywhere where I could find air-conditioning would have been fine!) and go home instead.

An Afternoon Chez Moi:
     I was in the train in 10 minutes and home about 40 minutes later. After I put away my shopping, I went up to my boiler of a bedroom, threw the window open because I though I would suffocate--it was so hot and airless--and left it open as I thought I would continue to work. But I simply cannot manage without a fan. The heat is getting to me so vilely that I cannot sit upstairs in this house during the day. Instead, after trying to work on my paper for about an hour, I had a video chat with Chriselle in California and then I made myself a pot of tea and had it with Coffee Walnut Cake. I then went for in a badly needed shower.

An Evening at the National Portrait Gallery:
     I had to think of some place to which I could go that was air-conditioned and did not involve too much walking. And I came up with the National Portrait Gallery at Trafalgar Square--one of my favorite places in London and one that I had yet to re-visit. Fridays is also late-evening closure at the museum whose doors are kept open till 9.00 pm. Not that I wanted to stay out late or after dark as I am still hesitant to come back to this neighborhood after nightfall.
 
An Unexpected Recital in the Elizabethan Gallery:
     As soon as I entered the Gallery, I looked for their 'Events for Today' and found that a duo were performing upstairs in the Elizabethan Portrait Gallery. Without wasting any time, I took the escalator to the second floor to find that a recital between a lutanist and a tenor had just begun. I had to wait for a few minutes for the first set to end before I was able to take a seat right in front and give myself up to the music.
     It was just lovely! I realized that this sort of music would have been the 'radio' of the Tudor and Elizabethan periods--the sort of background music that would have been a constant feature at court. In so many movies and TV series, I have seen a pair of musicians seated in a corner in the antechamber of the queen and her ladies or in Banquet Halls where the king supped. The music is quiet, lilting and softly pleasing. The composers were Thomas Morley, John Dowland, Francis Pilkington and Thomas Campion mainly and they wrote music for lute and harp--again, the kind of instruments that provide a pleasing sound without being intrusive. The concert, entitled 'From Dawn to Dusk: Musicke in the Ayre' featured the Australian singer Daniel Thomson who has made London his home and lutanist Din Ghani who is not only a musician but a musicologist and a maker of lutes! Seated in the Gallery, just below the Coronation Portrait of Elizabeth I, I kept wishing they had dressed in period costume--for that would have enhanced the entire experience a thousand-fold. Still, it was simply enchanting and after an hour, when they were done, I began my exploration of the gallery.
 
Viewing Works at the National Portrait Gallery:
     I love the National portrait Gallery for many reasons: the portraits themselves, of course, first of all, are among the best in the world. Secondly, for the significance of the portraits: The Portrait of Shakespeare, for instance, is the first one that the Gallery ever acquired for its permanent collection and the curatorial notes state that it is probably the only one painted from life--now this dispels the belief that the recently-unearthed Cobbe Portrait is the only one painted from life! Go figure! Thirdly, for the amount that I learn about the sitters with every visit I make. Fourthly, because viewing these works always provides a crash refresher course for me on British history and politics. The chronological arrangement of the rooms allows me to traverse centuries of British notables and to learn about them and the artists who painted them. Finally, I love the mood lighting in the Tudor and Elizabethan Galleries--it is kept soft in order to preserve the integrity of the pigments, but it adds to the atmosphere of the era. This was a very dark time in British History and as I gaze upon the faces of women like Anne Boleyn and Mary Tudor and contrast their portraits with those of bigger worthies such as Henry VIII or Sir Thomas More or Archbishop Cranmer and even lesser ones such as Salisbury and Cecil, I keep thinking how dangerous those times were for women, how they were 'played' politically by the men, how powerless they were in battling court intrigues that dispensed with them at the drop of a hat. These portraits truly transport me into another era and fill me with a deep sense of dread.
     Even as one leaves the 1500s behind and enters more recent epochs, there is hardly a portrait of a woman. But for an occasional queen, the dominant faces are masculine: writers, musicians, politicians, architects, you name it...they were men. I got all the way to Room 10 and reached the 18th century--all those portraits of male members of the Kit Kat Club with curled wigs tumbling about their shoulders as was the fashion of the time. I looked aghast at the kings (Charles II, for instance) who fathered 14 children with different mistresses, brought his wife Catherine of Braganza untold misery and then claimed he truly cared for her!!! For far less transgressions, thankfully, today, royal marriages have broken up.
      The Gallery is also experimenting with the concept of mixing a contemporary painting of current notables with those from the past--for some contrast and to allow the viewer to compare fashion, poses, etc. For instance, in the Elizabethan Gallery, there is a huge portrait of the two current princes--William and Harry--in casual conversation with each other. It is a lovely piece of work by Nicky Phillips. Although set in Clarence House (which I visited a couple of weeks ago), their home during their growing years and dressed in formal military garb (William wears the Order of the Garter), they are laughing as they converse and both look away from the artist--so casual, so unposed, so different from the stiff portraits of their own ancestors in the same room. Overall, I had a lovely time and so absorbed was I in my own contemplation of past history and past society, that I completely lost track of the time and was startled by the announcement that the Gallery would be closing in 15 minutes!
   
Trafalgar Square by Night:
 Yikes! It was already 8.45--already dark! I finished Room 10 and then hurried out into the evening splendor of Trafalgar Square. I realized how beautiful it was as I was seeing the city at night for the first time since my arrival here. With the blue lights in the fountains of Trafalgar Square and the dome of the Colisseum where the English National Opera performs, the city was transformed into a magical place. There were crowds, simply milling crowds, all over as the warm night and the darkness contributed to keeping people where they were: tumbling down the stairs leading from the National Gallery to the Square, seated all around Edward Landseer's lions, perched on the parapets that surround the periphery of the Square, etc. This is what I love about London--the sheer love that I have for this city is reflected in the eyes and movements of all the people who have come here because they so love it too. I also love the fact that I can wander into a museum and stumble upon a truly atmospheric concert that I can enjoy for free! Where else on earth could such things happen?
     But I had no time to lose. I hurried off to Charing Cross station to take the Northern line south for one station and when I arrived at the Embankment, I hopped off, made my connection into a waiting train and got completely lost in The Evening Standard--the free paper distributed to commuters each evening (the free paper concept has never caught on in New York--probably because people there prefer to gaze at their phones!)
     It was only when I reached the Barbican that I realized I was on the wrong train! Crumbs! I jumped off, raced to the platform on the opposite side, rode it one stop further to Liverpool Street and then took the Central Line from there for one stop to Bethnal Green. In a way, it was good I had made a mistake as this allowed me to take the 309 bus home for 2 stops instead of walking alone in the dark and taxing my feet. Luckily, my bus came along in 3 minutes and I was home by 10.00 pm--the latest I have ever come home (but this time all I had to do was cross the street from the bus-top and enter my house). Since I had eaten a big lunch and a substantial tea, I decided not to eat any dinner at all and I simply prepared to go to bed.
     I do not think I punished my feet too much today but I did manage to accomplish a lot--despite the heat which I hope will abate soon.
     Until tomorrow, cheerio...   
      

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

Saturday, July 18, 2015: London

Fitting Final Features Into Our Last Full Day in London:

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

 Off to Pick Up Tickets for Gypsy:

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

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

In Search of Oscar:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 A Highlights Tour of the National Gallery:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Off to Flanders Field Memorial Garden:

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

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

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

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

Watching Gypsy—An Outstanding Musical:

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

Taking the Bus to see The Shard:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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