A Bit of a Mystery

The wonderful thing about digital cameras is that you can take an unlimited amount of pictures while on vacation and then sort, delete, enhance, and organize them all when you get home. The horrible thing about digital cameras is that you feel COMPELLED to sort, delete, enhance, and organize them all when you get home...or at least I do. In truth I rather enjoy it all.

This morning, as I was reliving a walk down the Strand towards Trafalgar Square (while sorting, deleting, enhancing, and organizing) I came upon one of those photos that leave you wondering exactly why you took it in the first place. This is the photo...

My first thought was that I had been amused by the Coke ad on the bus. I only know one person named Laura and I only see her six or seven times a year, so that didn't seem likely. Then I remembered - it was that narrow row of windows running down between the two buildings. Surely it must be part of one of them, but it had clearly been built long after one of them and long before the other.

I went to Google Maps and zero'd in to see if there was an entrance at ground level that would give me a clue - perhaps a walkway through to the Thames Embankment. There is a portal, but it is covered from top to bottom with metal grills, locked gates, and signs reading "Fire Exit" and "! Keep Clear". Behind the grills it is black and foreboding - I can't imagine it being any easier to get out of than to get in.

But there are books and things visible in the windows - there must be either tables or desks against them. Then I notice the railings at the top, you can get up onto the roof! Why would that be possible? Looking for any clue, I went back to Google Maps and magnified as far as I could. I found what looks to be a human figure standing behind that railing, not a real person, but a cut-out like you find in theater lobbies or maybe an Antony Gormley figure. Whatever was there when Google drove down the Strand, it's not there any more.

So now that I know why I took the picture, I find myself left with more questions than when I started. One of these days, when I have nothing better to do, I may spend an hour or two on the internet seeing what I can find...I'll let you know.

London, Looking Up

My first visit to London proper was for one full day in 2007 so I had to choose carefully. I made a visit to Covent Garden (which captured my heart), explored the Tower Bridge from top to bottom (see Mixed Blessings post), and took one of the open top bus rides all around London.

Three wonderful things came from that first bus ride. Firstly, I got an overview of London's layout which has stood me in good stead. Secondly, all those unexplored brilliant bits have kept me coming back whenever possible. Thirdly, and probably least important, I discovered the upper level details of London's buildings. Sitting on the top of that double decker bus one comes face to face with the amazing ornament that decorates London first floor exteriors (that would be our second floor), and from there one can hardly avoid looking further up. Instead of seeing the whole building, as you tend to do from street level, you see the lovely little bits that Victorian and Georgian architects stuck on every possible space.

The amount of stone work in central London is mind-boggling, it must have kept hundreds,
if not thousands, of stonemasons busy for years.


And so you get in the habit of looking up, which can yield great rewards - not just carvings, but windows, brick work, and tile work.

The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden.

Near Covent Garden.

On the Strand.

The photos above were all taken in my first three days in London...there will be more.



The Savoy

"To stay at The Savoy is to follow in the footsteps of Sir Winston Churchill, Frank Sinatra, Maria Callas, Claude Monet and Katharine Hepburn." Other footsteps to follow in would include George Gershwin, Lena Horne, Noel Coward, Edward VII, Enrico Caruso, Charlie Chaplin, Harry Truman, Joan Crawford, Judy Garland, Babe Ruth, Laurence Olivier, Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne, Humphrey Bogart, Elizabeth Taylor, Barbra Streisand, The Beatles, and numerous others.  The Savoy Grill is under the management of Gordon Ramsey. The British premier of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue was held in the hotel lobby. Just for the record, this is not the Savoy at which there is any 'Stompin'" going on.

It goes without saying that we did not stay at the Savoy, their rates start at L450 per night. However, the moderately priced London hotel we did stay at was just across the street so we got a good look at it - at least until the scaffolding and wrap went up on our building.

This is the Art Deco main entrance to the Hotel. Somewhere in the background there hovers a doorman in full livery including top hat. The topiary cats at the front however, are fake.

The Savoy buildings cover a lot of ground between the Strand and the Thames, so in addition to the hotel there is the theatre on the left of the entrance and upscale commerce on the ground level of all the buildings.

The Savoy Theatre

The Savoy Tailors Guild - a wonderfully decorated storefront.

 

The hotel opened in 1889 and the style is a mix of Art Deco and Edwardian, upon which history is literally writ large.

I've never really had a taste for luxury at this level, but that may simply be because I've never had a taste of luxury at this level. Oh well, maybe in my next life.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Savoy_Hotel  worth a read-through

Angels of St Paul's Cathedral

 

As you approach St Paul's Cathedral you are overwhelmed by the majesty of Wren's masterpiece and the crowds of tourists. Eventually you back away from the crowds and bring your eyes down from the heights and look around the churchyard. The first thing that caught my eye was a series of columns topped by glorious sculpted heads. They are five angels, the work of Emily Young - brilliant counterpoint to the incredibly ornate decoration of St Paul's itself.

This will give you an idea of their placement

 

It is impossible to stand back far enough to take them all in at the same time and sadly, their placement is such that several of them have backgrounds that, while convenient for those of us from Seattle, leave much to be desired.

http://www.emilyyoung.com/the_work.html

Bits and Bobs

I'll share a few little things that have amused or amazed me along the way...

A shop window in York on Stonegate

In London, approximately 5 foot by 7 foot...made of M&M's.

Street art in Neal's Yard in London

The church cat in St Paul's Church (the Actor's Church) in Covent garden

A really brilliant busker in Cambridge - jazz violin a la Django reinhart

Scotch Eggs

One more note about food...

My English friend and I had a conversation about Scotch Eggs before I left. He told me it was one of the things he missed most - the crisp outer crust and the spices of the sausage wrapped around a tummy filling egg. His eyes almost misted over as he let his memory go back to his favorite pub grub.

I had to admit I had only had them in the States and they were frankly a little disappointing.

"Try one when you are over there," he said, and he made me promise. So today we sat in The George on the Strand, suddenly starving when we realized it was 3: in the afternoon, and I saw Scotch Egg on the menu. I figured I might as well get it over with.

I am now officially a fan of Scotch Eggs. My friend was so right. I only wish I could bring him one back with me.

A little bit about The George: It was founded as a coffee house in 1723 and is almost as charming inside as it is outside.



For those of you who are very observant - yes, it was raining, pretty much all day in fact.
 

This should be the last post about food for a while...but don't bet on it.

Simpson's in the Strand

Many years ago I bought a postcard from Simpson's in the Strand. It was from the 1920's and when I picked up another from the 1930's I became curious. The history of Simpson's is fascinating. It was opened in 1828 as a chess club and coffee house. In an effort to avoid disturbing the chess games in progress, they began placing large joints of meat on silver-domed trolleys and wheeling them to guests tables where they were then carved. It is a custom that continues to this day. Another thing that makes it distinctive has come down from one of the earliest chefs - the ironclad rule that all food served be British. My guide book describe's it as "an unchanging bastion of upper crust Britishness
beloved for its roast beef and soggy veg."

I planned to treat myself to a meal at Simpson's when I was in London in 2009. Every time I came out of my hotel, I looked across the street at the elegant entry and told myself I would do so. Somehow, I could never work up enough nerve to walk, all by myself, into this bastion of Britishness.



 

On this trip, I did my research and decided that my daughter and I would have breakfast there. We could order just one Great British Breakfast (Cumberland sausage, streaky and back bacon, Stornoway black pudding, fried mushrooms, baked tomato & egg (fried, poached or scrambled, tea or coffee, toast, Orange Juice) and another side of something and then share it. The Great British breakfast alone comes in at about $30. I was not prepared to spend $60 for breakfast.

Even split in half, there was plenty for both of us.

Everything was wonderful. It was the best black pudding either of us had ever had, the coffee was wonderful, and the butter was so good it could have been eaten with a spoon.

Simpson's open for breakfast at 7:15 and we were there about 8:  There were only two other people in the restaurant - a rather posh young woman and the waiter. He was a rather dour character with a straight-lipped little smile when we did something he approved of - like when we both declined any ketchup, and a pointed comment when he disapproved - like when I asked for decaf coffee.

Absolutely every thing in the room was first class and beautiful...and well-lit.

And so, at last, I have joined the likes of Vincent Van Gogh, Charles Dickens, Sherlock Holmes, George Bernard Shaw, Benjamin Disraeli and William Gladstone. Not to mention Scott of the Antarctic, who had his last meal here before setting off on his ill-fated journey, or Charles and Di, whose last public appearance was here.

That big revolving door was not nearly so intimidating going out as it had been going in.



It's all about the food

It's all about the food in London's Chinatown. In an area that is only about two blocks square, there is one club left over from Soho's glorious 1950's (David Bowie sang here), one betting shop...and the rest is food - restaurants, take-aways, and markets. Everyone is either on their way to eat, have just eaten, or are walking down the street eating. The restaurants may be a bit brisk in their efforts to get you in and then out again, but many of them are only big enough for six to eight tables and you must get that tourist dollar while you can.  If our experience at The Golden Pagoda was any example, there is a lot of good food to be had.

Mixed blessings

One always hopes that holidays will be filled with fun and adventure, new experiences, new friends and a wealth of photo ops. I can honestly say that today had all those things and I look forward to sharing many of them. Today also had a personally horrifying accident, a mortifying incident, rain, another mortifying incident, a camera issue, an enormous disappointment, and some pain. I do NOT intend to share any of these - don't ask. At some point, in a couple of months, I will find it all very amusing, then we'll talk about it.

Although the camera issue will prevent me from posting any photos today or tomorrow (everything but restaurants are closed on Sundays), it is fixable and recoverable.

We had sunshine this morning and after a good solid night's sleep we got an early start. We were at the nearby Starbuck's five minutes before it opened and sat out front in the sunshine gazing one short block to the Thames. It was one of those moments where I turn to my daughter with an enormous grin and say "We're in London. That's the Thames. I am one happy camper." We had a nice chat with a Englishman who lives in New York, and got to know a lovely barrista named Megan. We will be seeing quite a bit more of her I suspect.

Our first stop of the day was Cecil Court, a small pedestrian alley off the infamous Charing Cross Road loaded with old bookstores and other ephemera and print shops. The storefronts were all Victorian and there was a blue plaque indicating that the 8 yr old Mozart had lived there in 1764. It is also believed to be the inspiration for Harry Potter's Diazon Alley. It was heaven for this book-lover. In particular, the Children's book shop that specialized in first editions and noted illustrators made a strong attempt on my spending money. Since any one of the books would have effectively demolished my spending money, I was able to resist. The antique shop was just chock full of wonderful small and very expensive items. I did find a lovely small handpainted enamel of the Tower Bridge which I couldn't resist. It will go in my guest bathroom. Why, you ask, would I want to put something like that in my bathroom?

This should answer that question

We moved on to Leicester Square expecting to spend a good hour sitting there soaking up the ambiance and taking pictures of the new Charlie Chaplin/Little Tramp statue and the big Shakespeare statue in the center of the square. What we found was the staging area for a parade celebrating the 2557th anniversary of Buddha. We happily followed the parade into Chinatown (in the middle of London's Soho area) which is where we were heading anyway. The best part of the rather uninspiring parade was the two dozen adorable little Asian girls in their best dresses carrying small spring bouquets and the one adorable little blonde.

London's Chinatown is neither old nor very big. What it is, is full of restaurants. Every variant of Asian cooking is to be found there and we found one that served some terrific dim sum.

Our day ended with the FA Cup game. I won't bore those of you who are not remotely interested in football (that's soccer to you back home) with any details except to say the game is the culmination of countless games between teams at many levels. I am delighted to say that the underdog, the team with a small budget, relatively unknown players, a good guy owner, and a popular manager - a team teetering on the brink of relegation - thrilled us all in the 90th minute and made football history by vanquishing a team currently in second place in the top league with a virtually unlimited budget, world renowned and extremely well paid players, and a coach with a short fuse. It was brilliant!

As we were leaving Chinatown we passed a betting shop showing Wigan at 15 - 2 odds. We joked about placing a bet on Wigan, just for the fun of it, knowing we would be throwing our money away.  It would have been a very good idea.

Location, Location, Location

A universal truth – whether or not you are talking about real estate or the distance from the location where you exit your Heathrow flight to where you board the London Express train that takes you to Paddington station. Let’s just say it is a pretty long walk, which is another way of saying that pretty much every muscle and joint from my hips down are feeling the pain this morning.

On the other hand…I am looking out my hotel window at 5 in the morning and I see a blue neon light reading “Savoy Theatre” above a Union Jack sign reading “Let it Be…Beatlemania returns.” Next to it is the grand entrance to the Savoy Hotel – stuff of legend, a near replica of the image on one of my postcard from the 50’s. Even the taxi’s look almost the same. The guest list looks something like this: George Gershwin, Frank Sinatra, Lena Horne, Noël Coward. Edward VII, Enrico Caruso, Charlie Chaplin, Harry Truman, Joan Crawford, Judy Garland, Babe Ruth, Laurence Olivier, Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne, Humphrey Bogart, Elizabeth Taylor, Barbra Streisand, and the The Beatles.

Above the hotel I see blue sky and I know that if I were to pass through that famous entrance and walk out the other side, I would be looking at the Thames.

In about an hour, I will step out the entrance of my distinctly less luxurious hotel (yes, I could clearly hear my next door neighbor snoring through the paper-thin walls last night) and I will be standing on The Strand.

Well worth the walk.

Timing is Everything

My Mom had a rule for unacceptable conversation at the dinner table known as 'The Four D's' -  dirt, disease, death, and dentistry. It was not a joke, and in truth it pretty well eliminated distasteful topics. Well this entry is going to address two of them, disease and dentistry. But don't worry if you happen to be munching on something at the moment, there will be no details...

I have a collection of photos taken on previous trips to England that highlight the numbers 1 through 30. They are sent as daily emails marking the countdown to someone's upcoming trip to Old Blighty, so I began sending them on the 9th of April to my daughter and son-in-law in anticipation of our next big adventure. These daily missives are meant to be reminders that you need to be finishing up your itinerary, buying a few new outfits, getting your nails done, and doing all the fun little things you must do before you head to the airport.



Somewhere in London

When this one went out I was incapacitated with my first ever attack of sciatica - which made walking extremely painful.




Entrance to Winchester Cathedral Close

When this one was sent I was sitting in the dentist chair with a painful toothache of mysterious causes.




Tintagel in Cornwall

This one marked the day we started fitting my new upper partial plate - a process fraught with trial & error pain. You guessed it, my old one broke.




Jane Austen's last house in Winchester

This one went out today. After a three vicodin night, I'm on my way to the oral surgeon to see if he will pull the bad tooth this close to a flight. If not, I don't even know what my options might be...but none of them will be good. (I could have saved  lot of gas money if I had just pitched a tent in my dentist's parking lot)




Market Day in the Cotswolds

I can only pray I will be walking and chewing by the time this one goes out.





Canal Boat

Yes, timing is everything. No denying it, my timing on the lead-up to this trip has been dreadful, but when this one goes out - come hell or high water - I will heading to the airport.  I hope it will be with pretty toenails, a new haircut, a suitcase full of new clothes, and a detailed itinerary...but if not, I have a bottle of vicodin and a cane.

Tying It All Together

At this point in my life, I read fiction and non-fiction pretty much equally. I also listen to quite a few books as read on BBC4 and BBC4Extra.  It is such a lovely thing when they all come together.

One of the convenient things about reading is that we can read through an unknown reference without even realizing it was a reference.  For us ‘know-it-all’ types there is nothing more satisfying than catching a reference we assume most readers have missed.  This alone is a good reason for re-reading books after 20 or so years – of course this is on the assumption that you have learned something in that period of time.

So here is the set-up:  I have an abiding interest in the famous Shakespearean actress, Ellen Terry (1847 – 1928).  After having spent much too much time listening to me talk about her, my friends are always amazed at how often they come across references to her – someone they previously didn’t know existed.  Rarely, even in the age of Wikipedia, do we take the time to look up someone only briefly mentioned in a book.  In 1913, she wrote a book on the Russian Ballet.  I have always wondered how this subject came to be of such interest to her; something not really covered in her autobiography or the various other biographies I have read.

I just finished reading The Victorian Visitors: Culture Shock in Nineteenth-Century Britain by Rupert Christiansen.  The first half of the book was pretty slow reading.  I was surprised at how much was devoted to the life stories of the visitors: Theodore Gericault, Richard Wagner, Ralph Waldo Emerson - fully half of the book to these three, with precious little about their actual time in England.  The last three chapters were about an assortment of spiritualists, the early Australian and New Zealand cricket teams, and ballet dancers.  This was much more interesting to me as it delved into the changing tastes of Victorian and Edwardian society.  It’s always cheering to find that society a century ago was just as susceptible to hype, sham and glamour as we are today.

Now I understand.  The entire face of ballet in England changed after about 1880 and in 1911 the Ballet Russe arrived in London and completely took it by storm.  High society fought to entertain Nijinski, Pavlova, and even Bakst – the stage and costume designer. Even royalty attended the ballet, which until then had been very much a second class entertainment.  Ellen Terry, who traveled in the highest literary and artistic circles, would have been as caught up in this as everyone else.  And so, as she was pretty much retired from the stage at this point, she wrote the book.

There were two more enlightening bits.  Although I may have heard it before, in the chapter about cricket, the origin of the The Ashes was explained - I won’t spoil it for you, just in case you have any interest.  The first teams of natives from Australia and New Zealand also visited England at this point.  And so today, while listening to the newest chapter of Lord Peter Wimsey (Dorothy Sayers) on BBC4Extra, when Lord Peter begs off a boring chore by saying he was on his way to Lords to see the New Zealanders, I got it.  It was more than just a passing reference – it was a fully fleshed out reference to the sporting interest of the times and a perfectly good excuse.

We'll talk more about Ellen Terry at a later date............