2007 A Month in London

2007 A Month in London

Journal kept by Susan Hanes during a month in London as a celebration of her 60th birthday, from February 26March 27, 2007. Photos by Susan Hanes and George Leonard, copyright 2007.

Cover: London Bridge

A Month in London February 26—March 27, 2007 I can hardly believe it. Here I sit in a comfy flat in Thackeray Street in Kensington on the first day of a whole month in London. Spending an extended time in my favorite city has been my dream for a long time and it has finally come true. Never mind that the weather is blustery, chilly and rainy; that is all the more reason to enjoy a pint of cider in a cozy pub, or a steaming cup of tea at home.

Monday, February 26

En Route

We departed Chicago in snow flurries aboard British Airways 296 for the 8-hour flight to London. The flight was far from full as it is early for tourists and England is no bargain at the moment.

Tuesday, February 27

to London

Arrived an hour and a half late in the rain. Quick trip through immigration and customs.

Took the Piccadilly Line to central London using our newly purchased Oyster cards. Were distressed to find that we had to lug our bags up the stairs to exit the station at Kensington High Street. (This is not getting any easier with the advancing years.) Stopped at a phone store where Jake bought a SIM card and I topped off my UK phone. Short walk down the High Street to Kensington Square where we easily found Thackeray Street and Esmond Court. Rang Number 23 and Nina buzzed us up to her attractive flat that we would be renting for the next four weeks. After showing us the peculiarities of the flat as I described above, we unpacked and settled in. Met her for dinner at Arcadia, a small Italian restaurant around the corner, attractively decorated with floral murals. We shared a bottle of Sicilian red wine at a corner table by the window. After dinner that evening, Nina took us by the flat of the man whose address Nina had asked us to put on our immigration cards. His name is George Hayim, a gay Iraqi Jew who she referred to as her “Grandmother.” From a wealthy family, his only job was a toilet attendant in London, designed to humiliate his tycoon father into supporting him with a more generous allowance. Nina later showed us a copy of his autobiography, Thou Shalt Not Uncover Thy Mother’s Nakedness, which was well-illustrated with photos of the author, including one where he was heavily made up and wearing a skimpy thong with what looked like a vacuum cleaner tube jammed into it. Hayim apparently divides his time between his apartments in London and Paris and a home in Sydney. His flat boasted a huge, uncovered picture window at street level. The main room, an open combination of kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom, was painted a bright red, the walls decorated by hangings of feathers and bright fabrics. There was a giant bed in the corner. Two women greeted us: a 25-year old French girl and a sixty-something-year-old matron. Hayim himself was in Sydney. Nina told us she would be staying one night at her flat with us before going to stay at his flat in Paris.

Wednesday, February 28 Slept late and woke to bright sunshine, which unfortunately disappeared before we could get out the door. Walking down the High Street, the rain and wind started up. Dodged in and out of shops on our way towards Holland Park. Walked down to Edwardes Square, an attractive neighborhood of white early 19th century row houses. Stopped for a light lunch at the Scarsdale Arms, the neighborhood pub that Hillary had told us about before we left. It was a treat to come in out of the rain and find a cozy fire and the well-worn wooden tables and old cathedral chairs (with a cross and the little shelf for the hymnal behind.) Continued down the street to the smaller Pembroke Square for another pint at The Hansom Cab. A short distance past Holland Park we came to Leighton House. Unfortunately, a showing of Frederic Leighton’s drawings had just closed, but we toured the house with its extraordinary Islamic-tiled Arab Hall and collection of Pre-Raphaelite paintings. A rainy walk back to the flat, stopping at Marks & Spencer for wine, cheese and other necessities. A late dinner at nearby Wodka, a Polish restaurant housed in what was once the dairy to Kensington Palace. We were greeted by Stan (short for Stanislaus) the resident pooch who, we were informed, was not in the mood to be social. The menu boasted 45 different vodkas; I tried a “Paws and Claws” martini with Snow Leopard and Grand Marnier, flavored with lemon and fresh mint. Yummy. Between Jake’s goulash and my golabki (stuffed cabbage) we enjoyed tasty, hearty fare in minimalist surroundings.

Leighton House

Thursday, March 1 A nice day—partly cloudy, a little windy—but no rain. Started out with café

anniversary of his birth. Also saw the Luttrell Psalter, famous for the bizarre

au lait and a croissant at Madeleine, the little French bakery across the street.

inventiveness of its marginalia that depicts rural and aristocratic life in the

Stopped in next door at Vermont Natural Flowers, a tiny shop that carries

14th century. Made several purchases in the gift shop, taking advantage of

flowers and greens collected and dried in Africa. Met Paul, an owner, who

the Book Day 15% discount. Decided to tube back to Kensington rather than

has been swamped with business ever since he placed a small ad in the

lug our books around all day. Stopped at Marks & Spencer again for cereal,

paper. We discussed the possibility of his designing a topiary tree for our

milk and tea and then dropped everything off at the flat. Changed shoes and

living room and a nosegay for my wedding “tussy-mussy.” We will stop in

walked the mile or so to the V&A. Spent time in the gift shop and explored

next week and see what he can do for us. Tubed to the British Library, not

the Middle and Far Eastern areas where we were particularly impressed by

realizing that it was International Book Day, which made our visit particularly

the Ardabil carpet, the largest and most important of Islamic rugs, as well as

appropriate. Went though the “London in Maps” exhibit. Although it closes

the Indian paintings and Arabic calligraphy. Stayed until closing and then

in three days, the exhibit was packed with schoolchildren and Londoners

walked back towards the flat. Stopped for dinner at L’Etranger, a French-

who obviously took great interest in tracing the history of their

Asian fusion restaurant that offered a special early three-course meal.

neighborhoods. Visited the Treasures area where we examined a small

Interesting food—my dessert, a “deconstructed” lime tart was the best part.

exhibit of William Blake manuscripts, arranged in recognition of the 250th

A lot of walking today so an early night felt good.

Friday, March 2 Tube to Cannon Street in the heart of London. On our way to the Guildhall,

Locanda, a small Italian restaurant where we had a table at the window and

passed one of Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpieces, St. Stephen Walbrook.

enjoyed the company of an Australian couple, John and Sue, who were

Stopped to take a look inside; Nicholas Pevsner deemed it one of the ten

seated next to us. Shared travel stories and played the “Do you know” game.

most important buildings in Britain. Discovered that we were just in time for

Back home, made plans for the next few days.

the lunchtime concert, a performance of two Hayden organ concertos. Lucky us. As we gazed upwards at the glorious dome held aloft by eight circular arches that was the model for St. Paul’s, we were treated to a truly wonderful concert of organ and strings. I could not help but remember my mother’s description of going to church concerts when she and Daddy spent time in London. Afterwards, we walked past Mansion House and the Bank of England to the Guildhall Art Museum. Arrived just in time to catch a short docent tour of the exhibit of painter William Firth. We enjoyed walking though the exhibit, especially after having the docent point out interesting aspects of this Victorian favorite, whose huge paintings, rendered into etchings, were ubiquitous in every Victorian household. Ducked down to the Roman Amphitheater, located below the gallery and only discovered in 1988.

It was an evocative reminder of the Roman presence in Londinium only a few years after the birth of Christ. Walked though the gothic Guildhall and the Museum of the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers, where we could see all manner of watches and timekeepers, powered by everything from hydrogen gas to magnets. Visited the library and the bookstore. Short stop at Wren’s Mary Le Bow Church and then on to St. Paul’s Cathedral. On the way, we were amazed by the inordinate amount of building construction going on everywhere—whole blocks were under construction; at some points, the eye saw only Tivek and scaffolding. Spent only a short time at St. Paul’s as a choral concert was about to start and we had already enjoyed our music for the day. Back to the tube, but “severe” delays gave us a crowded ride and a longer walk home than we had anticipated. After a rest and a bottle of wine at the flat, we went across the street to Otto e Mezzo

Guildhall

Saturday, March 3 managed to find several fun things to take home: early 20th century tobacco cards, a pair of mahogany lawn bowling balls and two small antique tins. I also saw a beautiful 17th century band sampler with embroidery and pulled work.

I am going to do a little research and think about it. Trudged back to the flat with our treasurers. On the way, Jake tried to use an ATM machine but it ate his card. Yikes! But nothing we can do until Monday. After a break at home, headed towards the Natural History Museum and the V&A. Millions of kids at the Natural History Museum; it was fun watching all the activity as we walked through the dinosaur hall and displays of mammals, sea creatures and insects.

The place was certainly kid-friendly within the backdrop of its grand Romanesque-revival architecture. Over to the V&A where we enjoyed a small exhibit of Eugene Atget photographs of Paris and visited the textiles area to compare the 17th century samplers in their collection with the one we saw at Portobello. At closing, we walked along the Brompton Road until it was time for our dinner reservations at Racine, a Michelin-Bib bistro, where we enjoyed a dinner so typical of our preferences: I had a salad and roast lamb and Jake ordered separate courses of brains and kidneys. A pleasant 30minute walk back to the flat, stopping to take a few nighttime photos.

Portobello Road Market Day. Did not get the early start we’d planned, but at least missed a morning rain shower. Tube to Ladbroke Grove; walked south towards Notting Hill along the route of the market. Huge numbers of people, most of them walking in the opposite direction. The northern part of the market was mainly food and trinkets, with quality improving as one walked south. Stands were set up on both sides of the road with the more permanent shops behind them. Many of the buildings contained warrens of small booths; some were so crowded it was a challenge just to move ahead.

The choice was dizzying: dishes, cutlery, silver, leather goods, handbags, sports equipment, kitchen wares—the fine mixed in with the knockoffs. We

Natural History Museum

Victoria & Albert Museum

Sunday, March 4 In spite of a drizzle, we visited Kensal Green Cemetery, where Wilkie is buried.

decided to spend the afternoon at the National Gallery. A lot of other people

It’s been nearly ten years since the last time I was there, on that final trip with

had the same idea. It is wonderful, however, to see these marvelous museums

Houston. If anything, the cemetery is even more unkempt, the ground even

and galleries so obviously appreciated by people of all ages. We spent a

more uneven, the graves even more deteriorated. As we looked for Wilkie’s

leisurely couple of hours wandering through the 17th-18th century European

plot, we passed a mausoleum with its roof gone and its door completely

galleries. Jake knows and loves those paintings and it is fun to share them with

covered over with hedges. Stones were tipped, and some were toppled. As

him. From Trafalgar Square we walked towards Leicester Square and

the rain fell on this dismal place, we found Wilkie’s tomb, just in front of the

Chinatown. We had an early dinner at Fung Shing on Lisle Street, where we

ruined Anglican Chapel. It, too had suffered in the years since my last visit and

had the special Cantonese dinner for two that included crispy beef, prawns,

his name was almost indecipherable. A small group of purple hyacinths on his

and duck, and a chicken corn soup that warmed the soul. Back in Kensington,

grave were the only bit of color around. The wind picked up and the rain

we decided to stop in at the Builder’s Arms, the neighborhood pub. A couple

came down and we did not stay long in that lonely place. Back on the tube, we

of ales later, we made our way back to the flat.

Kensal Green Cemetery

Wilkie’s Tomb

Monday, March 5 Scandinavia that have clever expressions of horror or disgust, presumably at the player’s move. I also enjoyed jewelry from the 16th-20th centuries. I usually don’t notice the smaller wonders at the museum, and they were a treat for me.

On to Leicester Square where we bought half-price tickets for The 39 Steps.

Having a couple of hours to spend, we chose Maharaja, an Indian restaurant from a street of several, and enjoyed a tandoori dinner—but with too much food—and a couple of Cobra beers. As it neared curtain time, walked to Piccadilly Circle and found the Criterion, a cozy Victorian theater where we had great seats. The show, closely following the Hitchcock movie, had only four actors performing all the parts and it was delightful: funny, campy and exceedingly clever. Caught the tube right outside the theater door but had a rainy walk back to the flat from Kensington High Street Station.

While Jake went back to Kensington Church Street to retrieve his debit card, I savored time to wash my hair and do my nails. Nice chat with Andrew on the phone: we made plans to try and get together soon. Met Penny Hilton at 1:00 for lunch at Arcadia, where we had taken Nina for dinner on our first night. It was good to see her again, but very strange too, for as Trish’s identical twin she seemed to somehow be both of them; perhaps she was. We talked for a long time about her journey since we lost Trish last June 24. It has been a long and very, very sad one. After seeing her off, I went to Bloomsbury. After a short visit to Jarndyce Books (again Janet did not recognize me—she never has) I met Jake at the British Museum. There he showed me the treasure of Sutton Hoo, an ancient burial ship, filled with beautifully designed jewelry in red and blue enamel, set in gold. Saw the Lewis chessmen, 12th century ivory figures from

Westminster Abbey

Tuesday, March 6 It stormed all night; warm in bed, we could hear the wind whistling though the building’s chinks and crannies. Woke to miserable weather; nonetheless set out for Westminster Abbey, as neither of us had been there for years. A quiet walk though that ageless edifice that has been Britain’s coronation church since 1066. The layers of years were evident everywhere. I noted the following epitaph on the tomb of a young man, Francisco Holles, who died at age 18 in 1622: What so thou hast of nature or of artes, Youth, beautie, strength or what excelling parts Of mynd and boddie, letters, arms & worth, His eighteene years, beyond his years brought forth.

Then staid & read thyself within this glas How soone theise perish & thy selfe may pas.

Man’s life is measured by the worke, not dayes, No aged sloth, but active youth hath prayse.

In the Poet’s Corner, we read the great names of the English language: Shakespeare, Dickens, Byron, Shelley, Tennyson, Eliot, Johnson, Longfellow, Blake, and on and on. So many remembered in this place: kings and queens; musicians, writers, poets, children, soldiers known and soldiers unknown. Walked the cloisters and the chapter house and on through the museum and the gardens. The sun had come out and daffodils were blooming. The trees were beginning to show that tinge of green that means that spring is not far away. From the Abbey we walked down Whitehall Street, passing 10 Downing Street and imperial government buildings, to Trafalgar Square. Paused to photograph tourists posing near the guards on horseback and cavorting beneath Nelson’s Column. Visited the National Portrait Gallery where we heard a gallery talk on the Pre-Raphaelites while we gazed at the portraits of Millais, Hunt, Burne-Jones and Morris. Back to Leicester Square; bought tickets to the evening performance of BoeingBoeing. Passed a couple of hours before curtain time at the Tom Cribb pub; fun to watch people socializing in a way that seems quite different from the US. The performance, although wellreviewed, seemed a bit silly to us. The best part for me was the music: songs I remember from the 1960s sung in French. Jake was amazed that I remembered all the words—in English—from my youth.

National Gallery

Wednesday, March 7 We are getting lazy; did not get away until nearly noon. Went directly to the

Goethe, in Italian Journey, 1786 wrote of the beauties of the imagination, before

Royal Academy to see the show, “Citizens and Kings: Portraits in the Age of

photography changed the mind’s eye:

Revolution, 1760-1830.” The portraits included were painted during a time of

Wherever I walk, I come upon familiar objects in an unfamiliar world; everything is

radical cultural change, political upheaval, and economic and social

just as I imagined it; yet everything is new.

transformation that affected portraiture by changing the presentation of the

Unfortunately, we had to leave before the wine afterwards in order to get back

sitter from merely a physical likeness to a more intimate, personal approach.

to the Coliseum in time for the performance. We had excellent seats in that

The paintings we saw, from Ingres’ painting of Napoleon as Emperor to Goya’s

beautiful venue, the most beautiful hall we have yet seen. The performance was

portrait of the little boy in red, Manual Orsorio, were not only iconic, but also

good—the music was great fun, although we were disappointed in the

intensely interesting to see within this framework. We spent a couple of hours

costumes and sets. It was a late night, as we did not get back to the flat until

there, lost within the walls of that exceptional exhibition. I managed to stop

nearly midnight.

Jake from buying the giant catalogue; he probably will thank me later when he does not have to lug it all over Europe. Leaving the RA we walked up Piccadilly towards Leicester Square, briefly stepping into Hatchard’s and Henry Sothren Rare Books and stopping to look in the windows of the jewelry shops in Burlington Arcade. At the Leicester Square TXTS booth we bought tickets for the evening performance of the Gilbert & Sullivan operetta, The Gondoliers at the London Coliseum. Had an early dinner at nearby Bertorelli: pasta and salads and a bottle of chianti. At 5:30 we walked to the Courtauld Institute of Art at Somerset House to hear the head of the art history department at the University of St. Andrews give a talk on “Photographs from Italy in the Writings of Henry James.” I enjoyed it more than Jake, for the focus was more literary than artistic. The speaker gave us a lot to think about, saying the James felt that photographs had “annihilated surprise” by making the mysteries of Venice, for example, “as familiar as the postman’s ring”. He felt that anticipation had been replaced; European travel had been stripped of its romance by the photograph.

Photographs can become a sort of “counter-memory”—William Morris said this as well—as they become entangled in memory and confuse its spectral presence. To quote Roland Barthes in Within a Budding Grove, written in 1919: Not only is the Photograph never, in essence, a memory, but it actually blocks memory, quickly becomes a counter-memory.

Royal Academy

Courtauld Institute of Art

Thursday, March 8

Well, I wanted to know what it was like to really live in London … I guess I am

timed admission but we were able to get right in. Although Canaletto is best

finding out. Got up this morning to wash some clothes in the ancient washer in

known for his detailed depictions of Venice, he traveled in England for about 10

the flat and as I tried to open the door, the handle broke off in my hand. My

years, painting views of London, especially Westminster Bridge and Windsor

computer keyboard has been overheating and locking up as well. So now we

and Warwick Castles. He also painted scenes of Venice particularly for English

are getting the true feeling of living here—on the phone with repair people,

tourists, and caprices, those imaginary landscapes that delighted his English

making service call appointments; is this what I had in mind? So far, people have

hosts. We noted that although his landscapes are rendered in excruciating

been great, however, and we have things lined up for the morning. After a

detail, he manages to depict people using a minimum of strokes. We spent a

mix-up in which I mistakenly bought tickets to East Dulwich, we were able to

few moments in the gallery’s permanent rooms and then walked a short

make an exchange and took the short ride to West Dulwich in order to see

distance to the village where we had a couple of ales and a lunch of broccoli

“Canaletto in London” at the Dulwich Picture Gallery. Although Dulwich is a

and Stilton soup at the Crown & Greyhound. We headed back to town on the

near suburb of London, the little village seems miles away. The show had a

train, stopping for a few things at Marks & Spencer on the way.

Friday, March 9 Got an early start in order to drop off the computer at Apple on Regent Street.

Beautiful store with the same general plan as the one in Chicago but much bigger.

Our “genius” Ramin could not have been nicer and promised to get my computer back to me as soon as possible. Next errand was at the Virgin store to get some help with my mobile phone’s voicemail. That too was a pleasant transaction. Jake and I then split up and I went back to the flat to wait for the washer repairman to come while Jake returned to the National Gallery. The man came at 12:30—only a half hour after the start of the time frame they had given me of 12:00-6:00. Again, he was very accommodating. He got the door open and promised to order a new handle and come back as soon as it came in. No payment until the job was complete. Made a call to Penny and left a message for Faith Clarke, asking after Bill. Met Jake later at the Tate Britain for the Hogarth exhibit—really great. Hard to really see it, however, as it was very crowded and everyone was clustered around the detailed etchings, reading the printed explanation of each panel. Before we left we saw the Blake drawings and my Pre-Raphaelites, including the Hanover Square painting by Charles Collins that I love and that has not been shown for a long time. Before catching the tube at Pimlico, stopped for a drink at the White Swan and ended up staying for a steak supper. Fun to watch the lively Friday after-work crowd enjoying themselves.

So a%er ten days I feel as if I am truly living in London— errands, calls—all the normal things in everyday life. Jake just called for me to meet him, but it is nice to just sit here in the flat and decompress a liAle. Bring in London with Jake is quite a bit different than coming alone. We are busy every minute and I must admit that I miss the opportunity to just sit with my thoughts. I find myself feeling nostalgic for those early trips: having tea in the parlor at Durrants or siJng in the Marlborough tea room or on a Berkeley Square bench, or even drinking wine and bed and watching “Eastenders.” Of course, those were biAersweet Pmes, probably made sweeter by the passing of years. Travel for me needs to balance the acPve and the passive. The quiet Pmes not only give the body a rest but allow the spirit to refresh as well. I feel content siJng here in the liAle parlor, gazing out of the window at a Dickensian view of roo%ops and chimneys. The only sound is the rumble of traffic on the high street. This is special. I am living in London.

Saturday, March 10 a few minutes late and Vicky was on the street to meet us. She drove us back to her home in Wandsworth to pick up Michael and the four of us headed out to Hampton Court on a bright, cool afternoon. On the way, they took us past Wimbledon and pointed out the significant construction going on in the tennis venues. We spent a pleasant couple of hours walking the formal gardens and down to the river’s edge. As dusk was approaching, we walked down the road in front of the palace, noting Christopher Wren’s home from the blue plaque, and stopped for a beer at the nearby Cardinal Woolsey.

Retrieving the car, we headed back towards the city, stopping for an Indian meal at Sarkhel. William joined us after his rugby game; great to see him. Vicky and Michael kindly drove us all the way home to Kensington.

We returned to Portobello Road to look at the sampler we had seen last week. Met Stephen Lunn, the proprietor of Lunn’s Antiques, who assured me that the piece is 17th century but refused to divulge its’ provenance. I carefully looked at it, front and back, and decided to buy it. I also bought a little handsmocked dress from the 1940s for my coming little granddaughter. Leaving Portobello, we took the tube to Oxford Circus and picked up my computer at Apple. The problem had been minor and they were able to fix it immediately. Again, a most satisfactory outcome. Back at the flat, we dropped off the computer and sampler, and then left to meet Vicky Palau at Sloane Square. Had some problems with the District and Circle line services disrupted and had to walk through Knightsbridge to Sloane Square. We were

Hampton Court

Sunday, March 11 We both woke up with colds and spent a quiet morning reading and working on

Turnbull & Asser, shoemakers John Lobb and Taylor of Old Bond Street with its

the computer. It was another beautiful day, however, and we did not want to

array of shaving brushes. Amazing to see signs that said, “Since 1757,” or in the

waste it, so we rallied ourselves and set out on the tube to Russell Square for

case of Baretta, “Since 1526.” Continued up Bond Street, passing boutiques such

the monthly PBFA book fair. Spent an hour or so looking at books and maps

as Tiffany, Cartier, and Bottega Veneta. On to sprawling Grosvenor Square,

and ephemera and bought a 1914 first edition of The Gourmet’s Guide to London.

where we found the US Embassy surrounded by concrete barricades and wire

Returning to the tube, we passed the Brunswick Shopping Center near

fencing against the prospect of a terror attack. Walked up to Park Lane, passing

Mecklenburgh Square where Chris used to live. When he was there, the place

the Millennium, the Dorchester, and the Hilton hotels to Marble Arch. We

was a dreadful eyesore with empty storefronts, sooty walls and newspapers

continued to Knightsbridge and Harrods, its façade shining golden in the

blowing around. I was amazed to see that it had been transformed into an

afternoon sun. Then along the Brompton Road to the V & A where we stopped

attractive outdoor mall, full of lovely shops and people outside at tables enjoying

briefly to buy a book featuring the 17th century samplers that we had seen

a glass of wine or coffee in the pleasant weather. Taking the tube to Oxford

there, that resembled my newest acquisition. We ended our trek on Gloucester

Circus, we walked south down Regent to Jermyn Street where we looked in the

Road where we enjoyed Moroccan tagine and couscous at Pasha. We had just

windows of the marvelous stores there, such as bespoke gentlemen’s tailors

enough energy left to make it back to the flat and a bath and bed.

Monday, March 12 In spite of our colds we took advantage of another beautiful day to go out to Kew Gardens. An easy tube ride put us a short walk through the village of Kew to the Victoria Gate. We bought a day pass on the Kew Explorer, a train of viewing cars, and rode though the entire park to get a sense of the place. Then we walked the grounds on our own, finding it beautiful and peaceful in spite of the fact that, being between seasons, the flowers and trees were not at their peak. Pheasant and peacocks strutted about, unafraid of their human visitors. We saw one proud fellow, feathers unfurled in a grand display, showing off in front of a man who was totally unimpressed, being sound asleep on a bench. His red jacket must have gotten the peacock’s attention, as this was mating season. We strolled through the iconic Palm House and the other glass houses, built during Victoria’s reign, their white frames displaying a faded beauty as a backdrop to the endless variety of vegetation. I saw that the benches throughout the park had been donated in the name of those who had loved this place, just as my own parents had. Unfortunately, I dropped and broke my camera as I tried to photograph the spiral stair in one of the glass houses. Our repair issues continue.

In the late afternoon we returned to our flat where we spent a quiet evening.

Kew Gardens

Tuesday, March 13 The maid came this morning; I am not sure what we paid her for as we could

continuing past Fleet Street and stopping for lunch at the George, a

not ask her to change the sheets or towels as the washer is not really usable,

particularly pleasant pub. We walked to Temple Bar and entered Temple

unless you pry the door open with a spoon and we could not expect her to

Church and explored the Inner Temple and Middle Temple. Down Chancery

deal with that. So I guess she earned her 28 pounds by dusting and rinsing out

Lane we photographed the remarkable half-timbered Tudor buildings of

the tub. We both find this added expense somewhat irritating. Our first

Staple Inn at Holborn. From there we crossed over to Lincoln’s Inn, the lovely

errand of the day was to find the Calumet camera store near Tottenham

old area where Wilkie had studied law. Rested on the green at Lincoln’s Inn

Court Road and look into buying a new camera for me. Although it seems

Fields and later visited John Soane’s Museum to see the renowned architect’s

like quite a luxury to go out and buy a camera at this point, there is no way

collection of artifacts and art. There was a small exhibit of architectural

to repair the one I dropped and I do not want to go though the rest of this

drawings that Soane had collected to use in his lectures at the Royal

special trip without one. We looked at several and I ended up buying a

Academy. By this time, we needed to head back to the Courtauld Institute for

Canon G7 that is slightly larger than my other one but with far greater

a lecture on “Bamiyan after the Taliban” given by a Japanese chemist who had

capabilities. I hope that the increased size is not a problem. That purchase

been part of a conservation team from Japan, Germany, Italy and Afghanistan.

completed, we walked to Covent Garden and looked around. I remembered

She told us about their work to save the wall paintings associated with the

the last time I was there: Trish and I had met for lunch. She was not well and

giant Buddhas that had been damaged or destroyed by environmental and

it was the last time I ever saw her away from home or the hospital. Memories

human abuses. There was a wine reception afterwards and we stayed until

flooded back to me. At the London Transport Museum we bought a toy

we had to leave for our 7:45 dinner reservations at J. Sheekey’s. We sat at the

London double decker bus, just as a souvenir for ourselves. We walked along

bar and enjoyed Dover sole and a nice French Chardonnay in a cozy

the Strand to Somerset House and took pictures of that beautiful building,

atmosphere. Short walk to Leicester Square tube and home.

Somerset House

Lincoln’s Inn

Wednesday, March 14 Turnham Green Station and drove us a most circuitous path to his row house in Earnest Gardens, Cheswick. There I enjoyed looking at his growing collection of Wilkieana and showed him my manuscript, Wilkie Collins’s American Tour.

Andrew Gasson came from work in due course and we discussed various publishing possibilities. I was gratified by their interest in my project. We all walked up the street for a cozy dinner at Annie. Good conversation and a tasty meal. Paul dropped us back at the tube and we were home just after midnight.

A perfectly brilliant day; took advantage of it to go for a “flight” on the London Eye. Tube to Waterloo Station and a short walk to the river’s edge for our boarding time of 11:00. In an incredible 30-minutes, we slowly swept up over the city with bird’s eye views of Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, Westminster Bridge, St. Paul’s … a thrilling experience. After a stop at Boots to pick up a few sundries, we returned to the flat to change clothes and pick up my Wilkie manuscript before heading west to Hammersmith. We had a lovely time at the Dove Pub, a favorite place since I first discovered it on my way to William Morris’s Hammersmith house on the Upper Mall. The Dove Inn was once the home of Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson, founder of the Doves Press. Its dark front room has a low-beamed ceiling and the smallest bar in the UK. In the back, a terrace offers views of scullers slipping past on the river. We enjoyed our ales and a generous ploughman’s lunch that included paté and ham and several kinds of cheese. At 4:00 we walked back to the tube, passing under the roaring A4 motorway. Fellow Wilkie Collins enthusiast Paul Lewis met us at the

View from the London Eye

Thursday, March 15

This morning, we stopped in at Vermont Flowers across the street. The owner, Paul, had made me a nosegay with yellow roses for my wedding tussy-mussy. We looked at other things but decided to wait until after Monday when he is getting a big shipment of flowers from Africa. Tube to Sloane Square. Had a cafĂŠ au lait at Oriel on the square.

Stepped into Holy Trinity, the Arts and Crafts church that has fantastic Edward Burne-Jones windows. Jake took pictures and I just sat and contemplated. I thought of Trish, who always asked me to light a candle for her. I read the nearby card: The candle is a sign of our prayers and the offering of our lives in the service of Christ. The candle is a sign of our prayers for others, that they too might be strengthened in their faith and love of our Lord; The candle is a sign and symbol of all those who, through the ages, have shown as lights in the darkness of the world, and of their prayers for us; The candle is a sign and is a witness that this is a place of prayer; a place where people have knelt in worship throughout the years to acknowledge that the Child of Mary is also the Son of God.

We walked down Sloane Street, passing Cadogan Square, a beautiful private park. We stepped in at Anya Hindmarch, the hot English designer who specializes in beautiful bags.

I will return another day. We turned down the King’s Road and visited X. S. Baggage Co., the place in the Antiquarius Antique Center where we had purchased our two Vuitton pieces on other trips. We found a neat leather cartridge case from the early 20th century that would look perfect stacked on top of the leather case in our den. Decided to give it some thought. Continued down to Chelsea Town Hall where Jake left me to explore the antiques show while he returned to negotiate for the leather case. We made plans to meet later at the Courtauld. After going though the show a couple of times, I made my way back up King’s Road to the tube station and traveled to Embankment. As I walked along the river, the fresh breeze felt wonderful. I met Jake at the Courtauld Gallery and we spent an hour or so among its impressive collections. Iconic paintings by Renoir, Manet, Cezanne, Van Gogh and Serat share the space with medieval masterpieces. We enjoyed a special exhibit of 17th century drawings by Guercino. At 5:30 we crossed over to the lecture theater to hear a presentation on two 15th century illuminated manuscripts given by Anne Hedeman of the University of Illinois. We found it pretty dry, but the wine reception afterwards helped. We had a huge dinner nearby at Thai Square, advertised as the best Thai restaurant in London as chosen by the Embassy of Thailand.

The place was bustling and we admittedly ate too much. The walk back to Charing Cross Station in the cool breeze was just what we needed.

Heaven. I am siJng in the tearoom of the Kings Road AnPques Fair in the Chelsea Town Hall. Jake has gone on to the Courtauld to visit its galleries before we meet there this evening for a lecture on medieval manuscripts. I have been looking for an opportunity to spend a liAle Pme alone and I love this show, which I have aAended perhaps four or five Pmes now. I love the venue: the Victorian rooms with elaborately carved lenPls and wainscoPng; the courteous dealers with their shining cases of jewelry, Birmingham silver and bygones of tortoise, shagreen, and polished wood. It takes me away to another Pme. I love looking at the anPques and overhearing conversaPons and negoPaPons. These are the London Pmes I treasure. Pausing for a cup of tea and a liAle cake, I have a chance to pull out my journal and jot down my thoughts. I just bought a ceramic kitchen weight. I’ve never seen anything like it before: it would make a perfect paperweight or look nice on a kitchen shelf. It will remind me of this special moment in my month in London. Jake is dear to support me in my dream to “live” here, and this Pme to myself is a special gi%. For the first Pme in days, I can really take a deep breath. I feel at home—in my own unique part of London.

Friday, March 16 Jake and I set out on different paths today: while he went back to X. S. Baggage to pack some of our purchases into the leather case we bought so that they could all be sent back to the U.S., I went to Harrods in Knightsbridge. I had not been in Harrods for years, for had the sense that it had become a touristy place to be avoided. I was pleasantly surprised when I stepped into a sparking showcase, reminiscent of the fabulous stores I remembered as a girl.

On the main floor, I saw every designer imaginable and every cosmetics line as well. I found the Anya Hindmarch area and was pleased that the selection was better than at her separate store. A young woman helped me to choose fun glitzy “pockets” for Jen and Maggie and a bag for me. She sent me to the basement to arrange for my VAT refund. Later I walked up Sloane Street and met Vicky at Savills at 12:45. She took me to the General Trading Company’s attractive café behind her office, where we had a good talk over quiche and wine. Then back to Sloane Square where Jake was waiting for me. We headed back to the neighborhood and after stopping at M&S for a couple of things, we returned to the flat and spent a lazy afternoon reading and working on the computer. Shared wine and cheese and fruit for dinner, which was perfect after so many nights out.

Harrods

Saturday, March 17 front. Lots of noise, but few in attendance. A big tent was being erected nearby on Trafalgar Square for St. Patrick’ Day festivities on Sunday. I left Jake at the National Portrait Gallery and took the tube to Marble Arch, where I had a short walk down Great Cumberland Place to the New Cavendish Club.

Appearing rather shabby, it was the location of the Annual General Meeting of the Beatrix Potter Society. Downstairs in the Jubilee Room I found about forty women and five men talking together and examining items for sale on a long table. They varied in ages, but no one seemed younger than 50, with the exception of the speaker. The membership chairman, Jennie Akester, welcomed me and introduced me to Judy Taylor, the President, who is the author of several books about Beatrix Potter and whose name I have been familiar with since the 1970s when I first became a Peter Rabbit fan. Judy told me to “just introduce yourself around—everybody is very friendly” and indeed, they were. I enjoyed talking to a woman named Lynn who told me about a cottage that could be rented very near to Potter’s home in Near Sawrey. I wanted to go immediately! After tea and biscuits, we settled into our seats for a lecture on hill farming in Beatrix Potter’s Lake District, entitled Laundry Day. These household tasks are certainly not as easily done as at home. The part for the washer handle has not come in yet, so Jake has to open the door with a spoon. He has gotten pretty good at doing this, but the drum only holds a small amount and we dare not leave the cycle unattended.

After a couple of hours, we took the damp sheets out and laid them out over the sofas to dry, hoping they would do so before we had to sleep in them.

Our household duties completed, we set out for the National Gallery, spending an hour or so together in the Sainsbury Wing. We enjoy the early Italian and Flemish paintings there. As usual, we picked our favorites to take out under our coats. This time I chose a pair of portraits of a couple by Robert Campin. I love the Wilton Triptych too, but I have chosen it before.

At 1:00 we left the gallery, finding an anti-war demonstration going on out in

“The Upland Ideal,” in which the speaker addressed the valid use of upland landscapes. She made an interesting point that farmers and foresters are the nation’s landscapers. The group seemed particularly interested in her discussion of Octavia Hill, a 19th century social reformer and photographer.

After the meeting, Jake met me at the club and we tubed to Marylebone.

After a drink at the Tudor Rose, we walked a couple of blocks along the Marlybone High Street and I pointed out Daunt Books, the travel bookshop that I have visited on each of my visits. He, too was impressed with its Edwardian look and its carefully chosen selection. Afterwards we enjoyed a Lebanese feast around the corner at Fairuz on Blandford Street: vegetarian dishes and grilled meats, and fruit and mint tea to finish it off. Then back to the flat to what we hoped were dry sheets.

Sunday, March 18 It’s Mum’s Day in the UK. We bought cards for our mums but will wait until

had turned much colder and the wind had kicked up, we still enjoyed

Mother’s Day in the US to send them. Worked a bit more on the laundry—it

meandering around Tower Hill. We particularly liked the simple Norman

is really a pesky task here—before departing for the British Museum where

chapel in the White Tower, built in the 11th century. We saw the Crown

we had timed entrance tickets to see “A New World: England’s First View of

Jewels, noting not only the splendor of the gold and gems displayed, but also

America,” an exhibition of the extraordinary watercolors of John White. It was

how utterly impossible it would be to manage the crowds there during the

White who, thorough his meticulous renderings, provided the Elizabethans

high season. A conveyer belt kept the crowds moving along. On a light day as

their first glimpse of the New World. His watercolors of Native Americans,

we had today, however, we could go back for a second view. Upon leaving the

flora and fauna were made during a series of voyages he made to America in

Tower, we considered walking along the river to a pub that Jake remembered

the 1580s. In spite of time and the effects of fire and flood, the pictures

from 40 years ago but it was just too cold and windy to be pleasant. Instead

remain in remarkably good condition. We wandered though the Middle

we took the Circle Line back to Kensington and found a pub nearer to home

Eastern and Asian art galleries. After some discussion about what we should

on the high street, the Goat Tavern, where we had a couple of beers and a

do with the rest of the day, we decided to go to the Tower of London, since it

simple supper. Back home we warmed up with hot baths and watched the

had been many years since either of us had been there. Although the weather

telly.

London Bridge

Monday, March 19 Did a few errands in the morning—tailor, newsstand, bottled water, mailbox—

sponsored stadium for the Arsenal soccer team. Very impressive, even from the

really fun for some reason; made me feel like a local. At 10:00 (while Jake

street. A little after noon, Paul dropped me off at Kensington High Street. I

fulfilled his domestic duties and waited for the washer repairman) Paul Lewis

walked home and met Jake, who was pleased that the washer was now in good

picked me up and drove me to six Wilkie sites away from the center of

order for Nina’s return in the morning. After a snack at the flat, we set out for

London that I might not ordinarily be able to see. When we got to the address

Mayfair. We had planned to stroll around the area, but winter returned with a

on Avenue Road, Paul was astounded—and devastated—to find that it had

vengeance and we were assaulted by hail, wind, and icy rain. Instead we sought

been demolished. A new place was under construction. I think that I had

shelter at Sam Fogg and spent two hours with Arcadia, his knowledgeable

actually seen that house myself a number of years ago; will have to check my

assistant, who showed us some beautiful manuscript leaves and Christian

notes from other trips. Wilkie’s Devonport Street address had changed to 1

artifacts from Ethiopia. I noticed a Green Man out of the window and took a

Sussex Place and was now a hotel. We went inside and climbed the narrow,

picture of him. Too early for our dinner reservations, we braved the elements

steep staircase, delighting in the fact that it still remained as it must have been

again and walked around the corner to Brown’s, a cozy Victorian pub where

when Wilkie’s father died there. Fun to have Paul lead the way; I would never

we had a glass of wine and tried to warm up. Then back to Conduit Street for

have gone up to the rooms on my own; I would have gone to the front desk

dinner at Via Condotti, a Michelin Bib. We enjoyed an excellent meal although

and called a great deal of attention to myself by explaining and asking for

we were practically the only ones there. Our lonely presence did, however,

permission. On the way to Highbury Place, we passed the new Emirates

make for attentive service.

Wilkie Collins’s Homes

Tuesday, March 20

to Oxford

Early morning preparations to leave the flat to Nina for two days. Packed small

the long-necked “fire dogs” that gave Carroll the idea for Alice’s neck to grow.

bags and departed for Paddington, arriving in plenty of time for our 10:22

From there we walked along the Tom Quad—in a sudden hailstorm—to the

departure aboard the fast train. A pleasant trip, but just outside of Reading, we

cathedral. Several stained-glass windows are by Edward Burne-Jones. I also

got word—somewhat garbled word—that the brakes were failing or something

found a couple of Green Men, in the cathedral and in the cloisters. It was too

to that effect, necessitating a change of trains at Reading. We arrived in Oxford

late to go to the picture gallery, so we walked on to Radcliffe Camera and

around noon, only a half hour or so later than planned. Taxied to the St. Giles’

continued towards the Bodleian Library. Although we could not start on a tour

Church’s Old Parsonage Inn, established 1660 as it stated on the plaque

there, we were able to duck into the exhibition of the Bodleian’s Mughal

outside. When we walked in the door, the tiny lobby had a fire burning in the

paintings from the 16th to 18th centuries that were displayed for the first time

old stone fireplace. Americans were everywhere, dispelling any thought that we

in 60 years. The paintings were wonderful and we decided to return tomorrow.

had made a discovery. It was too early to check in, so we left our bags at the

A quick look in the bookshop and we were ready to get off our feet. We kept

desk and walked to the Eagle & Child, the pub where C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, and

it simple and had dinner at the hotel, enjoying the ambience of the portrait-

the other Inklings used to meet and discuss the issues of the world and

covered red walls and low ceilings of the hotel’s common rooms. A hot bath

academia over their ales. We were fortunate to find a table in the corner of the

did wonders later.

“Rabbit Room” where a manuscript letter over the fireplace carried a tribute to the group. After a lunch of Welsh Rarebit (Rabbit?) we braved a cold wind to walk towards the Ashmolean Museum, Britain’s oldest. The building is in the midst of a major expansion so many of it’s greatest holdings have been gathered in one room as a collection of Treasures. Also on display is a collection of early German drawings, including a couple by Durer. I was happy to learn that the Pre-Raphaelite paintings had not moved. I loved seeing Convent Thoughts by Wilkie’s brother Charles Alton Collins, as well as a portrait he had done of an elderly man that I had not seen before. There were several paintings by William Holman Hunt and Millais and a cupboard painted

by Burne-Jones. After we left the Ashmolean we walked towards Christ Church College. I stopped briefly in the Alice Shop across the street, the old Sheep Shop that was depicted in Alice in Wonderland and copied by Tenniel for the book. We entered the college and climbed the well-worn stone stairs to the dining hall dating from 1529. In addition to the long tables and simple dinnerware, we found several connections to Carroll’s Alice, including stained glass windows containing portraits of Alice and creatures from the books and

Wednesday, March 21

Oxford various libraries to the stacks. The highlight of the tour was the 15th century Duke Humfrey’s Library above the Divinity School. On other visits to Oxford, I have found it either closed or temporarily off limits and have only had the opportunity for the quickest of peeks, granted by a sympathetic guard. It is a remarkable place—my idea of the perfect library. Dark wooden shelves holding ancient leather books, a hammer-beamed decorated ceiling, and paintings of past benefactors make the library a treasure. After our 1 ½ tour, we hurried to Queen’s College for a noontime organ concert but discovered that we had missed it due to a schedule change. We stopped for an early lunch at the Queen’s Coffee Shop, it was so smoky that we did not stay any longer than we had to. As far as I’m concerned, it is going to be a great improvement when smoking is banned throughout England in July. We visited Magdalen (pronounced “maudlin”) College, where C.S. Lewis was a don. In the chapel, we examined the misericords, finding several interesting ones, including

We were delighted to awake to blue skies. We got an early start to take

a sheela-na-gig. Also noticed a board of prayer requests: some in English,

advantage of the light that gave the Cotswold sandstone buildings an apricot

others in French or Spanish or even Chinese.

glow. As we walked down the High Street, we noticed filming going on, creating lots of activity as traffic was diverted and orders were shouted by members of the crew. We later learned that the project was a motion picture entitled The Oxford Murders starring Elijah Wood and John Hurt and based on a novel by Argentinean mathematician and author Guillermo Martinez. We stepped into labyrinthine Blackwell’s bookstore and left with several titles from the diminutive Collector’s Library to give to Jake’s granddaughters. Returned to the Bodleian and joined a special tour that was part of the Literary Festival. It was unusual to be admitted to the stacks in the New Library, built in the 1940s. Saw a few of the over 8 million volumes housed there in quaint movable metal shelving. Our guide pulled out a bank of 19th century children’s books with gorgeous covers. Walked thorough the maze of tunnels that allow books to travel by conveyor from the stacks to the main library and Radcliffe Camera. A complex system of pneumatic tubes carries book requests from the

into the hall where a lecture was in progress. Jake wanted to see Exeter College, as it has a connection with Williams, and we were fortunate to find it open as well. Founded in 1314, it had beautiful gardens; I discovered that William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones had been among its undergraduates.

Finally, we visited New College, founded in 1379. Its hall is the oldest in Oxford, but unfortunately, it was locked. The chapel has no nave; it is an open area with 14th century glass and a floor-to-ceiling screen of carved figures. By this time, we were ready for a break. We stopped at the White Horse, a charming little pub that would have been more charming had it not been for the choking cigarette smoke. As we sipped our drinks, we observed a group celebrating the birthday of a woman’s rather large daughter who had apparently caused her mother no end of worry. I made a visit to the Ladies’ and noticed the following tender inscription carved on the wall: I badly need sex with John. We continued to the Lamb & Flag for another drink, but they did not serve food, necessitating the continuation of our pub crawl back to the A very forgettable copy of Leonardo’s Last Supper looked as if it was painted last week; in reality it dates from the 15th century. We walked though the cloisters and ancient quads of the college, taking pictures of buildings and details whenever the sun appeared and illuminated them. We next visited Merton College, founded in 1264 and boasting some of the oldest and most picturesque buildings in Oxford. We again stepped into the chapel, noting its beautiful 14th century glass. Back at Christ Church, we went through the Picture Gallery, seeing an impressive collection of early Italian paintings and a special exhibit of engravings. We continued up cobblestoned Brasenose Lane to the Covered Market, with delicatessens, florists, tea merchants and butchers.

Upon the recommendation of our Bodleian guide, we climbed the tower of St. Mary the Virgin. The steps narrowed to a tiny, steep, circular flight of dizzying proportions and the walkway around the tower was almost too narrow to pass anyone, but the views of Oxford were well worth the climb. As we walked up Turl Street, we noticed that Jesus College, founded in 1571, was open. Stepping over the doorframe, we waked across the quad and looked

Eagle & Child where we had soup, skewered meats and a potato at “our” table in the Rabbit Room.

Thursday, March 22

to London

Surprised to awaken to the sight of falling snow. We had been lucky yesterday with enough sun to get some good photographs. Big English breakfast at the hotel— complete with blood pudding, mushrooms and tomatoes. Checked out and stowed our bags. While Jake took a walk into town to check out the Carfax tower, I opted to stay at the Parsonage and write. We met at noon at the Pitt Rivers Museum and University Museum of Natural History, housed in an extraordinary cast-iron NewGothic cathedral-like structure. The museums were founded in 1860 by Sir Henry Acland and include the Oxfordshire dinosaurs and the Oxford dodo that became famous from Alice in Wonderland. The Pitt Rivers Museum houses an amazing Victorian conglomeration of objects, arranged by type rather than era, and crammed into cases, drawers and even hanging from the ceiling. Tiny labels, many written by hand, add an additional quaintness to the collection. We had only an hour to get a sense of this quirky place, and as I walked from case to case, I could only think how much my little boys would have loved it all. Before going back to the hotel, we wandered through Keble College and its collection of Victorian architecture. At 1:00 we arranged for a taxi to pick us up and take us to the station for the train back to Paddington. Surprisingly, we had another problem in Reading, but this time it only resulted in an eight-minute delay, rather than a change of trains.

Once back in London, we set about deciding what to do with the rest of the day.

Jake had noted a production of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. We decided to try and get tickets. At around 7:00 we exited the tube at Chalk Farm Road and walked the short distance to the industrial-cool Roundhouse Theater where we were in for a real treat. This was no classical Shakespeare, but an acclaimed Indian production that combined the skills of actors, dancers, martial arts experts, musicians and street acrobats from across India and Sri Lanka, many of whom had never before left their homelands. We loved it. With its spectacle, its wordplay (in at least five different languages), and its pure fun, the production still retained the spirit of Shakespeare. We stopped at Fung Sushi for a quick dinner on the way back to the tube.

Friday, March 23 Greenwich for our lunch meeting with Faith and Bill Clarke. We were impressed to see the degree of development going on in the Docklands area.

Every bank imaginable had its own building: Bank of America, Citibank, Bank of Scotland, HBC, Barclay’s … and so on. We walked up the hill from the Cutty Sark Station to the Clarke’s door in the wall of Park Vista. Faith and Bill greeted us, looking fit and well. They opened a bottle of champagne and we toasted each other before walking through the park to the Spread Eagle, a 17th century coaching inn with a cozy ambience and a stunning collection of art on the walls.

They made the reservations but it was our turn to treat. After a leisurely lunch, we walked with them as far as the Queen’s Gallery where we said our goodbyes. Jake took a photo of the three of us; we are getting quite a collection of them! Jake and I explored the Queen’s Gallery, noting such highlights as Turner’s Battle of Trafalgar and Reynold’s Captain Keppel. We also visited the National Maritime Museum, where I spent most of the time in the library looking for pictures of Wilkie’s ships, Algeria and Parthia. The museum closed at 5:00 and we joined the rush hour crowd for the trip back to central London, continuing to Isslington where we had tickets to the theater. We stopped for a light supper at FishWorks, a fishmonger and restaurant chain that First thing this morning I had a meeting with Mark Pollard of the publishers Pickering & Chatto, concerning the possibility of their publishing my “Wilkie in America” project. I arrived ten minutes late, as there was another publisher located at 21 Bloomsbury Street, directly across the green, when I was looking for 21 Bloomsbury Way. In spite of that, the meeting went well and I am encouraged. I must, however, submit a lengthy proposal before they can consider the work. How to fit that in with the schedule we are keeping will be a challenge. Between my walking around looking for my appointment and Jake walking around looking for me, we were both chilled by the damp morning air and sought refuge in a nearby coffee shop. Midmorning, we took the Underground to Bank Station where we picked up the Docklands Light Rail to

had intrigued Jake. I was only up to a cup of soup and salad and he had a salt crusted bream that he said was disappointing. We had some difficulty finding the Little Angel, a dedicated puppet theater located in a small lane behind a church. There we saw Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis, a production inspired

by Japanese Bunkaru puppets and Jacobean Court Masque. The show lasted an hour and consisted of a dramatic narration by a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company and puppets performing the erotic love story. We enjoyed it but were glad that it did not last more than an hour. The trip home was extended by the fact that we headed off in the wrong direction, but after asking directions from some ladies leaving a bingo hall, we got it right. By the time we got back to the flat, however, we were really dragging.

Saturday, March 24 A relaxing start to the day; we needed a little down time.

Organized the books and ephemera we’ve picked up in the last month and took it to Mail Boxes, Etc. to send home. A great idea until we got the 135 GBP bill; probably more than the stuff cost. Then out to the Ravencourt Park tube station and a walk to the Upper Mall on the river for the William Morris Society birthday meeting and lecture. Got there early enough to drop in at the Dove again for ale and sandwiches. We sat at a small table in the corner near the fireplace and I read the framed history on the wall. The Dove, an 18th century inn, was the site where poet John Thomson wrote Rule Britannia in 1745. Many famous literary figures also knew the Dove, including Graham Greene and Ernest Hemingway. No wonder I feel that it is a special place.

We finished our lunch and walked around the corner to the meeting. It was held in the coach house of Kelmscott House, where the Socialist League of Hammersmith used to hold their meetings. Over the front door was this carved wooden sign: Guests and neighbors, on the site of this Guest-hall once stood the lecture-room of the Hammersmith Socialists. Drink a glass to the memory! May 1962 News from Nowhere – William Morris Past speakers there included George Bernard Shaw, Walter Crane, William Morris, Red House architect Philip Webb, ex-slave Lucy Parsons and Morris bookbinder T. J. Cobden-Sanderson. This afternoon, about 40 members of the Morris Society gathered to celebrate his 173rd birthday and to hear a lecture given by Arts and Crafts authority Alan Crawford. He spoke on the contradictions of Morris’s life—his aversion to riches when his art could only be purchased by the wealthy; his firm, though started in “amiable chaos,” had to be run as a serious business; his belief in artistic freedom while creating patterns that could only be carried out by careful repetition. It was an excellent talk and generated a lively question and answer period following. The group adjourned to the parlor where we drank a toast to Morris and shared a beautiful cake made by one of the members. The day was too raw for the walk along the river that I imagined. Instead we returned to Kensington by tube, stopping at Jakob’s Deli for an assortment of salads to share at the flat for dinner.

Sunday, March 25 Out to Parson’s Green for lunch with Charles McGregor. I had some apprehension about returning to Trish’s house for the first time since her death. I felt her presence everywhere, but it actually was a warm and comfortable feeling. We worked up an appetite first by taking Poppie for a walk in nearby South Park. Charles looked very well, although he admitted to me that he was very lonely and that he was finding it a challenge to deal with the children. He had prepared a beautiful dinner for us, with roast lamb and vegetables, delicious cheese, a 1982 red wine. Afterwards we sat out in the garden and enjoyed brandy and coffee. Later, he played his CD of Capetown’s Diocesan College choir singing God Bless Africa that we had heard when we made our last visit there. The words are adapted from a prayer by Trevor Huddleston, of the Community of the Resurrection in Johannesburg: God bless Africa, Guard our children, Guide our leaders, And give us peace …

It was a wonderful afternoon. Charles quoted his mother, saying that one has to “water one’s friendships.” He is right; our families have shared a special relationship spanning more than 40 years. We left him at nearly 4:00, returning to the Apple Store in order to replace my power cable that burned out the night before. It has been great to have my computer on this trip but it has certainly had its share of problems. We walked the short distance to Liberty’s, where we enjoyed looking at its famous fabric designs. I bought an Arts and Crafts-inspired scarf; since being in London I have grown to love wearing scarves.

When the store was closing, we went around the corner to The Clachan, an cozy pub, where we had drinks and ruminated on the fact that our month was coming to an end.

Monday, March 26 A gorgeous day; we determined to spend as much time outside as we could. Tried unsuccessfully to get into Gordon Ramsay for lunch, as we had been on the waiting list for several weeks. Instead we went to Kensington Palace; decided that we did not want to go inside and look at fancy rooms. Chose to walk through the park, passing the stately statue of young Queen Victoria and the Prince Albert Memorial, its gold dazzling in the bright sunlight. Continued to Knightsbridge where we explored Harrods’ colorful Food Halls.

Had a light lunch at the deli bar: $70 bought us snacks and a couple of Cokes. Went up the Egyptian escalators past the Dodi-Diana memorial. Saw the new statue that was unveiled in 2005 entitled Innocent Victims that shows the couple dancing beneath the wings of an albatross, symbolizing freedom and eternity. On the way out, we noted a wax likeness of Harrods owner Mohamed al Fayed on a pedestal flanked by Egyptian statues. What a remarkable place. We continued our walk to Buckingham Palace and St. James’s Park before taking the tube back to the flat. Spent the evening packing up and getting ready for our 5:00 AM departure tomorrow.

Buckingham Palace

As our month in London comes to a close, I wanted to record some of my observations during our extended time here. First, London seems ever more international; the so-called typical Englishman is hardly typical anymore. Never have I been so aware of people from every corner of the world. Housing prices are so high that last month, the average upscale house price rose by 122 GBP a day, and 32% last year alone. In fact, everything has been hugely expensive. Even if the GBP were equal to the dollar, prices would be high, but given that the pound is worth almost two dollars, the price of things is staggering—my minimal lunch with Vicky cost over $100. Even after a month, we are still not sure on what side to pass people on the sidewalk. Purple ties are ubiquitous, as are (according to Jake) condom machines in the men’s rooms. The Oyster Card is the only way to go on public transport. We have seen an abundance of expensive cars: Maseratis, Lamborghinis, Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Aston Martins. The ghastly tabloid newspapers that people read on the tube, Londoners’ uncomplaining tolerance of bad weather, and the similarity of graffiti the world over are other observations. I have also been aware of the presence of CCTV cameras virtually everywhere, and security announcements in the tube stations are much more frequent than I remember. Plumbing has not improved; it seems that the British get some perverse satisfaction in enduring the drippy faucets, separate hot and cold taps and toilets that must be primed like an old farm pump. In some ways, the month has been other than I expected: we have been far busier than I thought, we have not cooked in the flat (the ancient appliances and lack of microwave being deterrents), the weather has been more penetratingly unpleasant than I would have expected coming from Chicago, and we have hardly had the TV on at all. Things that are wonderfully familiar have included seeing old friends, reading The Week magazine, indulging in crisp, fresh biscuits, drinking the best hot tea in the world, and attending the antique show at Chelsea Town Hall. The only empty place in my London month has been Trish’s absence. Her memory has been with me constantly, but especially in Covent Garden, where we met for our last lunch together; in Hammersmith, as I looked across to the towpath to Putney where I used to walk from her house; and in Parson’s Green, as we shared time at home with Charles. This has been a treasured time, and I am grateful that I could have this month to plant London even more firmly in my heart.

Journal kept by Susan Hanes during a month in London as a celebration of her 60th birthday, from February 26-March 27, 2007. Photos by Susan Hanes and George Leonard, copyright 2007.