A Day in the Kentish Countryside--Leeds Castle & Bearsted

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Leeds, Kent

We could not have asked for a better day for gamboling in the Kentish countryside—I mean it was a beaut. All that oppressive heat and humidity of four weeks ago has given way to the lovely cool summer for which England is known—and, of course, it has to happen when I am getting ready to leave. Trust my lousy luck! Still, as the English say, Can’t Complain…so I will not!

            I did get to 8.00am Mast at St. Paul’s Cathedral with Cynthia (Michael was saying it), had a quick granola breakfast with lemony tea and was off on the Tube to Northolt where my friend Bash had instructed me to meet him. We were on one of our habitual jaunts into the country to which Bash always treats me because he has a car and is a very compliant driver. Over the years since I have known him, we have scoured Kent, the Cotswolds, Sussex, with Wiltshire thrown in for good measure. This time, I was excited as he was bringing along his new lady friend Kim and I was the happy witness to their new-found togetherness. Once I was introduced to Kim who turned out to be a fun person and very jolly compatible company indeed, we set off on our longish drive to Kent. We were headed to Leeds Castle where we intended to spend the day. I felt honored as both Bash and Kim had taken the day off from work to accompany me on this excursion.

Leeds Castle was Mobbed:

            A very easy drive on motorways throughout with just a few traffic glitches got us to Leeds castle by midday. I was simply stunned to see the number of cars in the car park—clearly Brits are enjoying ‘staycations’ this year as their weather has never been so warm and hospitable. And, as I said, today was blissful. We strolled from car park to ticket booth past glorious parkland for such ancient piles come with massive packets of land in real estate gifts that were bestowed long centuries ago by royal edict for services rendered.

            The entry fee was steep: 21.50 pounds per head—but it is valid for the year. So it makes sense to reach there at 10.00 am if possible to truly enjoy all that the day out at Leeds Castle can offer. And there is plenty. Apart from a Grand Tour of the Castle, there was the vast grounds in which to picnic—some very sensible people had brought along those typical English hampers that are so quintessentially a part of an English summer. There are golf courses, lakes on which large craft ply for the amusement of kids, trains that ferry passengers from ticket booth to castle entrance as the walks to and fro can be pretty exhausting, falconry displays and get this…even punting on the castle moat for a skinny 5 pounds. Had we arrived earlier and brought a picnic, we could have included this lovely activity in our agenda. But, of course, as always, we were hard pressed for time to fit it all in.

           

A Brief History of Leeds Castle:

            The history of Leeds Castle is long and complicated—suffice it to say that it is mentioned already in the Domesday Book of 1076. It is named agfer Esledes, the original owner of the castle and property. Title deeds changed hands several times until Richard II becomes involved. Once in royal hands, the castle was extended and spruced up, Its most notorious owner was Henry VIII who gifted it to his first wife Katherine of Aragon who took occupancy and cozied it up. In the 18^th century, it fell in the hands of the Fairfax family who eventually moved to Fairfax, Virginia. In the 20^th century, when the owners were bankrupt, they sold it to an American heiress named Bailie who was subsequently made a Baroness. She hired the French interior decorator Stephane Boudin to modernize the place and make it livable. His touches are very distinct and her living spaces are the most warm and friendly.

From the medieval to the Tudor to the contemporary, a tour of the castle presents a fine contrast in exterior and interior decorating styles and a history, one might say, of the manner in which the rich and privileged have lived through the centuries. There is a medieval fountain, for instance, set in a gabled courtyard that is lovely and four carved marble busts of Henry VIII and his three children: Mary Tudor, Elizabeth I and Edward VI. There are red boxes containing official papers that were used in important international conventions such as the Camp David summit in 1978 as Leeds Castle was often used as the venue for such high-level meetings and negotiations. There is the oldest life-size equestrian sculpture in the world and a strong box that dates from medieval times. And, above all, there are the stunning views of the property and the moat from every window on every level that give the entire place a most glorious feel.

            And it is in the moat that the punting takes place. You can sit and allow yourself to be rowed in the bucolic environment past vistas of the castle and under arched bridges that must be simply fabulous. Alas, we did not have the chance to do that as we were simply starving by the time we finished touring the castle and had to get lunch urgently.

A volunteer guide suggested we skip the castle restaurant which was pricey and go instead to the Village of Leeds to a pub named The George Inn. We complied quite readily, took the train for 50 p per head, got back into our cars and headed to Leeds Village. We found The George Inn easily enough, poked around inside, ordered our drinks (Pimms, of course, as it was the perfect day for such indulgence) and then sat outside on the picnic tables under jolly red umbrellas to pig out on pub grub:  fish and chips (for me—can’t leave England without it), steak and ale pie for Kim and hot toasted sausage and caramelized onion sandwiches for Bash. Indeed it was a memorable lunch and we spent a grand hour lingering over it all.

Cricket on the Bearsted Green:

            My guide book 25 Day Trips from London had recommended that we do not miss Bearsted Village when we visit Leeds Castle and so I passed on the recommendation to Bash. We decided to forego punting on the moat at Leeds Castle and instead made our way to the car after lunch to go in search of Bearsted. It took some seeking as the Green which is the heart of the village is approached through a discreet side street. But find it we did and we spent the best couple of hours just lingering in this lovely gracious Kentish village which is the stuff of which poems are written.

            So all the elements that make the perfect English village are in place here: St. Mary’s Church, the village watering hole, a small but classy restaurant (The Oak on the Green), loads of Tudor style houses (some so higgledy-piggledy they could actually belong to the Tudors), and of course, the distinctive Oast houses of Kent in which hops were placed for drying to make Kentish beer. These were all very much in evidence and what’s more, they were all placed, as if by deliberate design, around a gorgeous Green—a vast expanse of green compound on which kids rode their bikes, played cricket with their Dads, mums walked babies in strollers and guys brought their dogs out for a run (one looked suspiciously like Ferris—I simply had to pinch myself to believe it wasn’t him!). The Green happened to be named after Alfred Myns, a Victorian cricketer who hailed from this village and as a left-hander had brought batting glory to these parts. The village sign bears a portrait of this cricketer playing the game on the Green in a top hat (which, my cricketer friend Bash informed us—he captains the Kenton Eleven team) was how the game was played in Victorian times when it was only the pursuit of Lords! How very interesting.

           

Tea in the Local:

            By them, as Kim put it, we could all murder for a cup of tea—and so in we went to the pub right behind us for a pot of Earl Grey. And how very welcome it was too! More chit chatting in a gastro pub filled with fresh flowers saw us while away some more time. When the village clock chimed seven o clock, we reluctantly raised ourselves up from the coziness of our sofas and returned to the car for the lovely drive home.

                Bash and Kim stopped briefly at Amen Court to say Hello to Cynthia and Michael before heading back to Harrow.

Dinner Chez Colclough:

            It was a quiet but companionable dinner: fish cakes with salad and hummus with ice-cream for dessert. After dinner, we sat with my PC so Cynthia could see some of my cruise pictures and then it was time to go to bed after an amazing day.
            Until tomorrow, Cheerio!

Careening Around Canary Wharf and Charterhouse

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

London

            Having woken up by 6.00 am and launched straight into my work, I did not wish to break off at 8.00 am to attend Mass. I, therefore, continued to stay at my computer until almost 9.00 am—which was three solid hours of work—before I went downstairs to join Cynthia for breakfast. I enjoyed her delicious porridge with tea and then it was time for me to start my packing particularly since I wished to see how I am doing with weight restrictions. About an hour later, having sorted my possessions and decided how best to divide them between my single bag and my hand baggage, I got ready to leave. There were a few places I wished to go to and a few places I wished to see before the day was through.

Church-Crawling:

I did the equivalent of a pub crawl this morning in that I did a church crawl. Having found the Wren and Hawksmore churches closed yesterday, I made one more attempt to enter them today. My first stop was the Church of St. Stephen Walbrook where I had the chance to take in Sir Christopher Wren’s prototype for St. Paul’s Cathedral. It is true that going by the plain exterior of the church with its single spire, one would never imagine that the interior could be quite so gorgeous. And it was superb. The inside of the dome is embellished with fine plaster tracery work. There is a grand altar reredos and a pulpit in dark carved wood and the altar, designed by none other than Henry Moore is a solid marble slab which some describe as a lump of cheese. Large powerful Greek pillars hold up the structure whose Neo-Classical principles of design and decoration are simply splendid.

            This church is also famous for the fact that its former Vicar, one Chad Varah, initiated the institution of the Samaritans, an organization that provides assistance to people in despair. They are taught to simply ring the number that used to be “Mansion 9000” when it was founded. The number took the caller straight to a live person on the other end who would then talk the caller out of the desire to commit a desperate act. The Samaritans still do their incredible work today and have saved several lives in the process. But it all began in this church which used to be the official church of the Lord Mayor of London (as Mansion House, the Mayor’s official residence is next door). The original telephone used to initiate this mission of mercy is kept in a glass case in the church.

With this mission accomplished, I crossed the street and entered the church of St. Mary Woolnoth which was designed by Wren’s pupil, Nicholas Hawksmoor. It was also open and I had a chance to take in its interior which sported the main features of the typical Anglican church. But clearly, in this case, it is the exterior design that is striking.

Careening Around Canary Wharf:

       I had never been to Canary Wharf other than to pass it on the DLR train when headed to Greenwich. Having heard so much about this part of London, I decided to take the Tube to get there and to wander around and explore a bit. For the uninitiated, Canary Wharf became the center of London’s banking industry, a few years ago, when they moved from the overcrowded City to this bend on the Thames. The largest banking enterprises are here—they were swiftly followed by the journalism industry that abandoned Fleet Street (apparently, the 18^th and 19^th century buildings were no longer able to sustain the vast amount of wiring and cable laying that digital technology demanded). Hence, the move to new state-of-the-art premises.

            Well, as might be expected, Canary Wharf is like the Nariman Point of Bombay or Hoboken in New Jersey—areas that have sprouted like mushrooms in recent years to accommodate the thrust of commerce and industry ever upwards. It is a maze of sky scrapers—all glass and chrome, but not at all a concrete jungle because clever landscaping prevents it from such terrible degradation. Instead, there is a vast artificial lake, well spaced out promenades, wide open patios for enjoying good weather and an excellent network of transport channels that make it very easily accessible. I browsed among its many restaurants because folks who work here (generally having deep pockets) need to eat—hence Carluccios, the Slug and Lettuce, One Bar, etc. are all located in this space. I could easily have spent longer lingering among its many malls, but I had to get on with my day, so I bought some caponata and a lemon tart from Carluccios for my lunch and hopped back on the Tube to get back home.

Off to NYU and SOAS for Meetings:

            Back home, I picked up another lot of papers, books, files and photocopied material that I needed to mail back home to the States and got on the bus to drop them off at NYU. I did not have much time to linger, as I had a meeting with an anthropologist at the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London to talk about drafting a proposal to the British publishers for my book. The meeting took place in the Staff Common Room on the first floor of the building in which I have often attended meetings and performances in the basement auditorium in the years gone by.

            When the meeting ended, I returned to NYU and spent the next couple of hours working steadily as well as preparing my box for mailing with the help of the porters Mo and Mark who are always so accommodating to me.

In the Footsteps of Carthusian Monks:

            My next port of call was what is known as Charterhouse near Smithfield Market. I had forgotten how exactly to reach it, but by hopping on a 55 bus, I remembered that I ought to get off at St. John’s Lane (one of my former haunts when I had lived at Cowcross Lane near Farringdon Tube station). I walked through the ancient St. John’s Doorway that had once seen knights ride through it on their way to the Holy Land and then I was at Smithfield Market and entering the vast property of Charterhouse.

            The name Charter-house comes from Chartres in France from where the first Carthusian monks originated. By the 1100s, they had reached this location and set up a monastery complete with priory church and cloisters—monks cloistered themselves from the world and once they entered the monastery had no more contact with the secular world.

            Through my friend Bishop Michael, I was able to join a tour group that was led by a Brother known as Douglas Ellison. He was introducing himself to a group of about 20 visitors who had arrived from various venues. A brief history of the Carthusiasns brought us to the founder, a knight named John de Many of the Middle Ages who is still well remembered and honored in these premises. The history then swung to the Tudor period when the original medieval buildings were pulled down and a fancy Tudor mansion was built complete with Great Hall (used then for dining and still used for the same purpose) and a chapel—both of which we visited on the tour. The interior of the chapel is filled with commemorative tombs, etc. to one Thomas Sutton who founded the Charterhouse School for Boys with which some very prominent names are associated—such as John Wesley, founder of the Methodists; Lord Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts and William Makepeace Thackeray, the novelist, all of whom were students at this school. The coat of arms of the Sutton Family which includes a species of dog similar to a grey hound, are to be found everywhere.

There were also references to the four Carthusian monks who were horribly treated during the Reformation for defying Henry VIII’s edicts. They were led away from the monastery (after the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1538) to Tyburn where they were hung, drawn and quartered—a really horrific way to die. Each year, on the anniversary of their martyrdom, they are remembered at an ecumenical service that includes the Catholic clergy, in the premises. I was told that a red rose is laid on the ground to represent each of the martyrs who died that awful day. Needless to say, they were only four of the several thousands of monks and priors who refused to accept Henry VIII’s new laws and perished. Sir Thomas More, perhaps the most famous of the lot that defied Henry, was also briefly a student at this school and indeed when one tours the Tudor buildings, one very much expects to see him turn a corner.

            We were taken into the Grand Hall both upstairs and down. The buildings also suffered severe bomb damage during the War and were effectively restored and refurbished, so that many different architectural styles are evident as well as layers of stone work that are different with every passing age. It is a vast space with many different courtyards (the Master’s Court, the Wash House Court, etc). Part of the ancient Norman cloister still remains, but it is in a very unfinished state. There are 41 brothers living on the premises today under the leadership of a Master and in the presence of a Preacher (one Hugh Williams, a friend of Michael’s, who came out to say hello and greet me which was very sweet of him indeed). The tour was very enlightening and told me a lot about the place and the manner in which it has evolved over the centuries. The boy’s school eventually moved to Godalming in Surrey (where it currently exists as a very exclusive fee-paying private school) leaving the space free for the contemporary brothers. Since the place does not receive any government funding and depends entirely on grants, it is trying hard to link with the Museum of London to publicize the place (which is used for the shooting of many period films) and to attract private tour groups to take in its many interior and exterior charms. I have to say that though I enjoyed every minute of the tour, it was tiring as it went on for almost 2 hours.       

Dinner at Maze by Gordon Ramsay:

            I got back home to Amen Court by bus and took a short rest before getting ready for my evening’s plans. I was taking my host friends Michael and Cynthia and Rosemary (Roz) to dinner to thank them for being so generous with their hospitality towards me while I was a guest at their home. It was indeed a small gesture but the only way by which I could show my appreciation to them. We had 6. 45 pm reservations at Maze, the upscale restaurant by Gordon Ramsay where I had taken other friends only a few days ago. We took the Tube to Bond Street and then walked five minutes to Grosvenor Square where we were seated and awaited Roz who arrived about ten minutes later.

            Well, the food was fantastic and my guests enjoyed it enormously. We each chose a total of four courses—savory and sweet--and with the conversation flowing around the table, we made friends with our waiter Naveen who turned out to be a Catholic from Mangalore. The food was really excellent and the presentation and service simply superb. We thoroughly enjoyed it and before we could quite grasp the fact, it was almost 10. 00 pm.

A Bus Ride Through the London Night:

            We ended our evening with a bus ride on a double decker No. 11 bus that allowed us to enjoy the City by night with all the lights illuminating the many monuments of the capital. Roz gave us a ride in her car to Victoria Road where we were able to hop into a bus going home. Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Memorial were beautifully lit as were Westminster Abbey and Big Ben Tower. The renovation of the Cenotaph on Whitehall has been completed and the monument glows in a golden light. Trafalgar Square’s fountains are no longer blue for the new heir to the throne—they spout water in different colors. The Strand was vibrant with throngs just emerging form the theaters opposite the Savoy Hotel or from the restaurants of Covent Garden. Sitting upstairs we had box-side views of the proceedings down below and it was great seeing the city from this perspective at night when electric light added magic and mystique to this most architecturally stunning of urban landscapes.

            We were home by 11.00 pm and ready to call it a day.

Until tomorrow, cheerio!                     

Being a Sloan Ranger in Chelsea and Knightsbridge

Tuesday, August 6, 2013:

London

Being a Sloan Ranger in Chelsea and Knightsbridge

            My day began with 8.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral that I attended with my friend Cynthia whose husband, Bishop Michael was saying it. It was the feast of the Transfiguration of our Lord and was, therefore, said in the special American Chapel in the back of the cathedral—a chapel that was created by the people of Great Britain in appreciation of American effort in World War II and in memory of the Americans who died giving their lives for the defence of Europe. It was a very moving service indeed after which we met a couple of folks from Kerala—one was a Roman Catholic priest from the Bronx in New York, Fr. Jose; and the other was his nephew Shibu John, a scientist with Royal Brompton Hospital in London. Michael ended up inviting the two of them to his place for breakfast so we spent some time over porridge and toast and tea chatting with them. Today was also the morning I decided to go out and get my special breakfast from Paul’s—almond croissant with a hot chocolate (as only Paul can make it). Such yumminess! I carried it over to Amen Court and had it while Cynthia prepared breakfast for her unexpected guests.

           

Off to Chelsea:

            After breakfast, I sat working for a couple of hours. Then, Cynthia and Michael and I set out for Chelsea by Tube to see the flat into which they will soon be moving. We stopped at Trinity Church en route at Sloan Street to pay a visit—it is a beautiful Arts and Crafts Church with stained glass windows by the Pre-Raphaelites William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones. We spent a little while in prayer after which we stopped briefly inside the Jo Malone showroom for a sample spray. It was then time for us to get to the flat and survey it. Michael and Cynthia were so proud and happy to show me their new place. It is a gorgeous flat, bright, light, spacious and yet not overwhelming. They are indeed deeply blessed to have it. We sat and had a cup of coffee together and then I was off, leaving them to get back home.

Becoming a Sloan Ranger:

            I spent the next few hours doing one of the things I most love to do when I am in London—dallying on the King’s Road and browsing through its thrift shops for antique jewelry and vintage finds. On and off the 22 bus I stepped, stopping off at all the stores that are my usual haunts. And I rode all the way to the Mary Portas shop at Parson’s Green. Indeed it was my lucky day because I found a genuine Sadler’s Brown Betty teapot, an antique hand painted porcelain cup and saucer to add to my collection, an interesting necklace with twin interlocked hearts and a set of four Swarovski crystal candleholders that were all splendid buys. Indeed, as Cynthia put it, I did very well with my vintage browsing. It was also great to simply slink around Sloan Square and Sloan Street like the Sloan rangers of the 60s. Interestingly, I did actually enter the Vivienne Westwood store—the very place from which the designer made her daring debut in punk fashion that heralded the arrival of punk culture. It is a rather iconic store and I was glad to be there.

Off to Knightsbridge and Harrods:

            I could hardly believe that it is the last week of my stay here in London and I have not yet entered Harrod’s. Had I gone there as soon as I arrived, I might have had a glimpse of their half-yearly sale. There were no sales, alas, but I was there specifically to buy a Christmas pudding to carry off home and I was pleased to have a first shot at their newest stock that has just come in. I also bought a box of biscuits for my friend Bina to whose place I was headed in the afternoon. Harrods also gave me a chance to browse a bit in its famous Food Halls, took in its gift sections and then left.

Dinner with Friends in Harrow:

            On the bus across the street I jumped only to get off at Green Park Tube station from where I took the Tube to Euston. I was headed to Harrow to spend the evening with my childhood friend Bina who has lived in London for 25 years with her husband Naveen. At Euston, I followed the signs to the Main Line Overground trains and reached Harrow at 5. 15 pm after dozing off a couple of times on the train! Bina was waiting for me in her car at Harrow and Wealdstone station and off we went to her place.

            We spent the rest of the evening, as always, chatting and catching up. In a short time, Navin arrived and joined us for dinner. Bina and I always have a great deal to say as we go back a long way having first made friends when we were but 13 years old. Our friendship has stood the test of time and it is always a delight to meet up with her and her family in London.

            Dinner was vegetarian as Bina sticks to a non-meat meal on Tuesdays—we had rice and dal with chick peas and a mixed vegetable. By the time we were done with her delicious meal, it was 8. 45 and I was ready to leave. They dropped me back to the station and I took the fast train to get back to Euston from where I got to St. Paul’s on the Tube.

            Cynthia and Michael were admiring and envious of my buys and keep wondering how I am possibly going to carry these loads off to the States—frankly, I am wondering too! I had a bowl of vanilla ice-cream with chocolate sauce and Michael’s homemade flapjacks before I excused myself and went up to bed.