2013: SEPTEMBER 4-22 OXFORD AND LONDON
DIARY OXFORD/LONDON SEPT. 4-22, 2013
HIGHLIGHTS
DAY 1 WEDNESDAY SEPT 4 2013 TO ENGLAND
Depart United 10:39 AM; (United First Class Lounge DAY 2 THURS SEPT 5 --
Arrive Heathrow 8:40 AM
Lunch @ The Kings Arms
 |
| View of London from National Theatre in Southbank |
DAY 3 FRI SEPT 6
Guided “University and City Tour”Lunch @ Quod Brasserie
DAY 4 SAT SEPT 7
Lunch @ Ashmolean Museum Rooftop Restaurant
DAY 5 SUN SEPT 8
“Coffee Concert” Holywell Music Room; clarinet, piano, viola; Bruch, Poulenc, MozartLunch @ White Horse Pub
Evensong—
DAY 6 MON SEPT 9
Guided Lunch @ Brotherton’s (
Guided tour Cotswolds
High Tea @ The Mytre
“Harry the 6th” @ Oxford Playhouse
DAY 9 WED SEPT 11
Blackwell’s guided “Inklings” TourLunch @ Malmaison
DAY 10 THURS SEPT 12
Train to Paddington, Flat—22 Dean St. #3,
Lunch@ Crown and 2 Chairs Pub
“The Ladykillers” @ Vaudeville Theatre (evening)
DAY 11 FRI SEPT 13
Guided Walk “A Lunch @ Arbutus Restaurant
“The Pride” @ Trafalgar Studio (evening)
DAY 12 SAT SEPT 14
National Portrait GalleryLunch @ National Portrait Gallery Restaurant
Irving Berlin’s “Top Hat” @ Aldwych Theatre (matinee)
Hendrik Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House” @ Duke of York’s Theatre (evening)
Christopher Marlowe’s “Edward 2” @ Olivier Theatre National (matinee)
DAY 14 MON SEPT 16
Lunch @ Pierre VictoireGuided Walk “A Village In P:icadilly”
Nick Payne’s “The Same Deep Water As Me” @ Donmar Warehouse (evening)
DAY 15 TUES SEPT 17
Lunch @ PortersEric Idle’s “Monte Python’s Spamalot” @ Playhouse Theatre (evening)
DAY 16 WED SEPT 18
Lunch @ Pierre VictoireLucy Kirkwood’s “Chimerica” @ Harold Pinter Theatre (matinee)
Guided Walk “The Literary
DAY 17 THURS SEPT 19
Lunch @ Maison TouraregSimon Stephens’ “The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-Time” @ Apollo Theatre (matinee)
“Roald Dahl’s Matilda The Musical” @ Cambridge Theatre (evening)
DAY 18 FRI SEPT 20
Lunch @
Bertold Brecht’s “The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui” @ Duchess Theatre (evening)
DAY 19 SAT SEPT 21
Lunch @ PolpettineShakespeare’s “Much Ado about Nothing” @
Concert Belmont Ensemble of London and English Chamber Choir, Handel’s “Zadok”, “Gloria”, “The King shall Rejoice” and Mozart’s “Requiem” @ St. Martin’s In the Fields (evening)
DAY 20 SUN SEPT 22 TO USA
Depart United 2:10 p.m. AirService Lounge Heathrow. Arrive
**************************************************************
DAY 1 WEDNESDAY SEPT 4 2013 TO ENGLAND
The future is murky, unknowable, despite our best attempts to guide it, shape it to our desires. This fact seems especially pertinent for the intrepid Travel Planner (in this instance C'est Moi) though I'm not a pessimist, mind you. In fact in these pre-dawn, pre-journey moments of reflection, I'm filled with my usual sense of hope and excitement over our impending trip—this one toEngland . (The Other in "our"is presently sleeping and snoring, [yes you do] and I've no inkling whether his dreams are troubled or blythe or are about the trip at all). [Later to discover Bob was also up at 4 AM -- trip nerves are apparently communicable.]
After all it's been at least five years now since we journeyed from the colonies to the motherland, an unusually lengthy hiatus for us. And so though the planning has been mired in detail, I know anything can and will happen to mix it up and thwart expectations.
Here are Bob's notes on the trip--(followed by mine + photos).
9-6. Breakfast in Hall (buffet). Good tour of Oxford (Green Badge guide). Lunch at Quod. Posh and makes the top ten list. Disappointing set meal, and that's possibly the problem. Wander, explore, nap. Wander again. Eat sandwiches from Tesco. And drink
white wine.
At breakfast this morning in the college hall, we sat across from a pleasant middle-aged couple who engaged us in conversation. I thought they were English , but they're from New Tasmania, Australia. She explained in a fluty chirping voice that they were off that morning on a road trip to York, "with mother in the suitcase." She meant mum's ashes, which she was bringing home to her native York. Too much information over scrambled eggs? The delights of travel.San Diego to Houston has been changed to destination Chicago and leaves an hour earlier, meaning that Don needs to be informed to pick us up an hour earlier and the driver in London alerted to the time change. Confirmed. Confirmed.
The future is murky, unknowable, despite our best attempts to guide it, shape it to our desires. This fact seems especially pertinent for the intrepid Travel Planner (in this instance C'est Moi) though I'm not a pessimist, mind you. In fact in these pre-dawn, pre-journey moments of reflection, I'm filled with my usual sense of hope and excitement over our impending trip—this one to
After all it's been at least five years now since we journeyed from the colonies to the motherland, an unusually lengthy hiatus for us. And so though the planning has been mired in detail, I know anything can and will happen to mix it up and thwart expectations.
Here are Bob's notes on the trip--(followed by mine + photos).
OXFORD & LONDON
9-5. Thanks to Brian and
Danny, we travel biz class to England. Posh, including fold down beds, though
of course I didn’t sleep. After checking in at Wadham College, we ate at The
King’s Arms, the pub on the corner. Had a chopped cheese and pickle sandwich.
Yummy but odd.
9-6. Breakfast in Hall (buffet). Good tour of Oxford (Green Badge guide). Lunch at Quod. Posh and makes the top ten list. Disappointing set meal, and that's possibly the problem. Wander, explore, nap. Wander again. Eat sandwiches from Tesco. And drink
white wine.
At breakfast this morning in the college hall, we sat across from a pleasant middle-aged couple who engaged us in conversation. I thought they were English , but they're from New Tasmania, Australia. She explained in a fluty chirping voice that they were off that morning on a road trip to York, "with mother in the suitcase." She meant mum's ashes, which she was bringing home to her native York. Too much information over scrambled eggs? The delights of travel.
Not to be forgotten was the corner step-up
shower with sliding Lucite doors. Perfect only for a willowy undergraduate,
most certainly not suited for a middle class burger of age. The step up was a
challenge, though no less than setting the temperature while keeping dry.
9-7. Ashmolean. Compact, interesting. Ate at its Dining Room, modern Brit posh. Mushroom soup, shared charcuterie platter.
Walked to Christ Church College. Crowds large so we didn't enter.
Stopped at Debenhams and bought a face cloth for one pound, then hit Tesco for provisions. Some rain, Martinis at home, then later looked for and found a closed gay pub, The Castle. Earlier heard singers performing in the chapel.
9-8. Same dreary but filling bfast in the Hall. Eggs, pork sausage, mushrooms , grilled tomatoes, beans, toast, fruit. Cereal and yogurt also available. Not likely to eat healthy. Miss my peanut butter.
Just back from a Sunday morning coffee concert at Holywell Music Rm., built 1742, which has hosted Handel, Haydn and other worthies. Today a trio:
clarinet, viola, piano. Brilliant clarinetist, Fiona Cross. Some rain expected. Lunch at The White Horse Pub: Sunday roast, mash, veggies, Yorkshire pudding, etc. Sort of edible and immensely helped by a bottle of merlot. On the other hand, it was cheap.Then another walk-about. Later, Evensong at CCCathedral, where we were amused/charmed by tiny terribly serious boy sopranos.Then bought provisions at Sainsbury.
9-9. Same boring bfast in hall, though I ate fewer slices of toast. Then off to meet the Blenheim tour group. Overestimated the time to get to our pick up point, so we were 1/2 hour early. One other on tour, an Australian woman who'd come down from London for the tour. 20 minute drive to palace. Stopped first at a church within sight of BP to see where Winston Churchill was buried. Also Consuelo Vanderbilt, 9th duchess who detested her husband and eventually left him. Uninteresting Norman-style church the 10th duke had demolished and rebuilt-reproduced. The zany rich.
As for Blenheim, been here so no surprises, except for the rainy weather that kept us out of the gardens. Blenheim is cold and unwelcoming on a day like this. Of course the public rooms overwhelm. But most were redecorated in the late 19th early 20th century so pay homage to Louis Quatorze or whatever. Excellent chirping guide. What else? Guides tend to look like Miss Marple, donned in heavy sweaters and shapeless woolen skirts.
After the guided tour and reluctant (me) to visit the very wet gardens, we waked to the village, Woodstock, an unbelievably picturesque town.
Ate at Brotheron Brasserie, an English tearoom masquerading as a French bistro but serving Italian. Had penne pesto and red wine. Adequate. wandered about town. Decided even with WIFI, Woodstock wasn't for us. Handsome Norman church, antique shops galore. That kind of upscale, second home place.
Picked up by driver and with 7 others began our slog through the countryside. Beautiful towns, whose denizens once were prosperous wool producers and merchants. Glimpsed manor houses in the distance, some dating from the 16th century, now mostly hotels or schools. Cotswolds difficult to get to without a car. Few trains and buses.
Back in the city by 6:30 and stopped at the Randolph's Morse Bar, named after Inspector Morse, who occasionally was shown drinking a pint there. The bar is in a posh riot of Victorian Gothic, at least in the public rooms Outside, St. Giles Fair took up St. Giles street. Home for sandwich, chips, and red wine.
9-10. Up at 6 am, lazy Reuel at 7:30. Usual breakfast. At 10 off to Rose Lane to walk through Christ Church meadow (with cows) to get to Christ Church College. Cost to enter, total 10 pounds. First visited Cathedral (kept getting accosted by elderly, ahem, docents wearing sashes and badges) then walked the grounds. Bought schlock for friends. Then off to Worcester College which was recommended viewing. Closed until tomorrow. Bought tickets for Blackwell Literary tour. Not enlightening but pleasant. Home,
ate sandwich. Joined tour at 2 pm. Led by retired MD Peter.
After tour, bought tickets for evening production Henry VI by Globe touring company. Then an inexpensive cream tea + prosecco at The Mitre. Home for rest before theater.
Saw Henry VI, a Shakespeare history play, vaguely remembered from Lehigh. Not a great play, but the traveling Globe production was impressive. Amused as always by the ice cream (cups w/ spoons) vendors who peddle wares at intermission. So many old ladies scooping up the ices. Just as many folks at the bar drinking vino swill.
Home, sandwich, wine.
9-11. Awoke to find message from Larissa re settlement requiring my signature. Usual breakfast. Chatted with our Tasmanian friends. Faxed a copy of the legal agreement to Larissa and hope she got it. Head porter at lodge helped us send it. Another tour with Peter, this time the Inklings. Lunch at Malmaison. Fish cake for Reuel, rigatoni for me. Mediocre mediocre (on the mediocre scale).
Kinda gloomy, only one other table. Obviously an expense account kinda place. Planned to visit Worcester College but rain deterred us, so went to Marks & Spencer, Looking for the perfect porkpie hat, not yet found. Tesco, souvenir shops instead, then home by 4pm.
Then out to look for Exeter's entrance so Reuel could buy a souvenir to commemorate grad school days. No success, but we walked to St. John's and were able to take a free tour of the grounds. In the gentle rain, alas. Then a last turn round Radcliffe Sq. and home for a martini. Beginning to feel I could give tours. Rain here so far at least is nothing like the mean Pacific storms we endure.
Now into my first drink and do not plan to hit the streets again, though who knows.
9-12. Up at 6 to pack. Then usual bfast in college and last chat-up from Dib (Deborah), the ashes lady, just returned from mum’s drop-off. She and hubby David live in tiny Franklin, Tasmania, where they head everything. Picked up by cab at 9:30. At the station Reuel worked with his iPhone to send Message to London landlord. No success and anxiety producing, as he got no reply. Then couldn't find the first class coach so suffered with proletariat. Train a great disappointment.
After more struggles at Paddington R connected with landlord. Took taxi to 22 Dean, greeted by chubby, pierced Spanish Maria. Next off to lunch at local pub, The Crown and Two Chairmen, where our waiter was a native San Diegan (Bonita) and former zoo employee. Introduced us to two San Diegans also having late lunch. Then a walk round. Bought tickets at ticket booth for The Ladykillers. Culminated in a shopathom at Tesco. Later off to the Vaudeville Theatre for the much-lauded "The Ladykillers." Mostly funny, lots of slapstick. Had trouble finding the theater but made it on time. Home for vino blanco and a sandwich brought from Oxford, Tesco of course.
9-13. Awake at 6:30. But haven't instant coffee to keep me happy. R still asleep. Apt compact but no closet, an obvious flaw but since we don't plan to entertain, it doesn't matter. Bed ok but sofa better. Quite extraordinary bathroom: Mexican tile (yellow and orange) and mirrored surface, the ceiling included. Alas, no ventilation, so the door needed to remain propped open when not in use. The tub was raised, which meant an oldster needed to hoist himself up to shower and gingerly step down to exit. Yikes, what fresh horror.
Off on a Soho walking tour in the rain, sometimes drizzle, sometimes heavy. After walk, lunch at Arbutus, recommended by Time Out. Spent rest of afternoon at home, out of the rain. Walked through driving rain to see Pride, a play about gay life in two decades. Tortured characters in an overwritten play by a playwright who's read Tennessee Williams. Home for food and bed.
9-14. After a leisurely am, started out for a 10:45 walking tour, after
a detour to TKTS. Though rain not predicted, it rained so we cut the tour and instead went to the National Portrait Gallery. Had great time ending with a lovely and expensive lunch in their rooftop dining room. Then off to see Top Hat, a stage version of the movie. A pleasant trifle . Cocktails at home and then off to A Doll's House. ADH was well acted, but neither of us was satisfied with the ending, as it seemed both abrupt and unlikely. Home through streets choked with young revelers, a typical Sat night in Soho.
9-15. Lazed about apt. Reuel struggled with stove, another mystery. Plan a walk to National for Edward II. Anticipate rain, so what else is new?
At noon, shopped at Tesco and sucked money out of the account.
Then the long and pleasant walk to the National. Ate lunch at the Lyttelton Cafe, a cafeteria with great food. Both had Thai vegetable package and broccoli salad plus dessert and glass of wine. Saw an extraordinary production of Marlowe's Edward II. Multimedia, curious set, costumes then and now. But it worked and made a perhaps not brilliant play live. Sat next to young American academics who preened for each other. Delicious.
Then walked back over Waterloo bridge in the light rain so we could wander through Covent Garden, which was full of buskers and tourists. Nothing new there. Then proceeded home for Martinis at 6 pm. Anecdote: walking up Dean St where we live a probably drunk young man asked me what street he was on. I said Dean, but thanks to my accent he got it wrong until I spelled it for him. Home now and drinking. Rain seems to have stopped. Well maybe not .
9-16. Bfast at home, natch. Walk to Fortnum and Mason, where the posh pay those prices. Lunch at Pierre Victoire, neighborhood French bistro. Lovely lunch, high mediocre. I had grilled asparagus with poached egg and ham. Nicely prepared, as was the stroganoff with chips. Add an inexpensive red wine and all's ok.
Home break and then a walk of Piccadilly with London Walks. Good tour, but we walked through rain squalls. Earlier we watched rain from our window.
Saw play at the Donmar. Many people speaking in incomprehensible dialects. Not a great night with Thespis. Actually bought us large wines at break to dull the pain.
Home, Wee amounts of food, boring Telly and then bed.
9-17. Up around 9; gettin' lazy. Usual brekky, Half bagel mit peanut butter; Reuel makes an egg. Then off to a Walk that begins in Covent Garden but takes us to the Royal Opera House, the Royal College of Surgeons' Museum, London School of Eco, St. Clement Danes Church, and the Courts of Law where we watched a case in progress. After the tour, we headed back, stopping at Porters English Rest. where I had steak and cheddar pie with mashed potatoes and Reuel tried a steak and kidney pudding which he really didn't like. Next to Leicester Sq and snagged cheap tickets for Spamalot tonight and. Pinter's Chimera tomorrow afternoon. Then a requisite visit to Tesco for hooch and grub. Email correspondence with Lawyer Larissa Lazarus re Winn payment.
Cocktails and good cheese with crackers, wait out the rain, and then off for an 8 pm performance of Spamalot bought on the cheap. Monty Python goes musical. Amazingly, lots o' fun. Then home for an egg salad-watercress sandwich and the unvarying chips.
Soon to bed.
9-18. Up at 7, then typical bfast, peanut butter on toasted wheat bagel. What else to do in the am?
Eventually we bestirred ourselves and walked to Oxford street to window shop. Visited Selfridge's, where the prices are staggering even before conversion. Left in a funk for M & S, where I bought a sweater (£15) and Reuel bought harlequin socks, a typical purchase . We stopped for lunch at Pierre Victoire, good of course. Bob--zucchini cakes with goat cheese, red cabbage, some mint sauce. Entree--sautéed chicken salad. All good. Reuel--onion soup and pasta in a Gorgonzola sauce with spinach.
Next off to see Chinamerica, a play about Tiananmen Sq and
accidental betrayal. Well made play, almost cinematic. Wonderful staging and quite good cast. Play High mediocre.
Home, Martinis in anticipation of a Bloomsbury pub walk at 7 pm.
Walked to Holborn underground for walk; not the guide we expected but okay. Female, posh accent. Stopped at one pub and enjoyed a small Spitefire ale. Okay but temp set for Brits.
Walked home after tour. Happily I wore my new sweater for warmth. Trip to Bath nixed because of possible rain and my lack of enthusiasm.
9-19. Up around 8. Reuel making his egg and humus condo.
Kinda watching tv--BBC of course--buy trash, too. Yesterday Jeremy Kyle, Jerry Springer type. Today, a dating show on which the gals cook for the dude. Best food wins fair hunk.
Walk to M&S, then about Covent Garden and St. Paul's Covent Garden. Next a set Lebanese lunch --falafel and cous cous. Reuel- chicken schwarma. Great but too much Food, red wine.
Rain has begun.
Off to The Curious Incident of the Dog at Night-time, a play about a 15 yr old autistic genius. Great play, beautifully acted and staged, a product of the National. Back home for a martini and rest before Matilda. Rain has stopped and I see a patch of blue sky. (Realized that the star of Big Bang Theory has modeled his performance after an autistic genius.)
Martini, then rest, and then off to Matilda, the hit musical. Dancing moppets, incomprehensible dialogue from children and adults. Disliked it so much I sprang for wine at break. Half sandwich, chips and wine, then to bed.
9-20. Usual bfast. First off to
TKTS , where we bought Alberto Ui tickets, then to St. Martin's for Sat. eve tickets for Mozart Requiem and misc Handel. Then home and off to the Brit Museum, where we spent most of the day . Took 2 tours, Ancient Greece and the Enlightenment in a room specially constructed in the 18th century. Cited by guide as the finest Greek revival room in England. Then we took lunch in the Restaurant, each of us having the peculiar (no alternative) two salad option. Me: cous cous and mixed green bean salad; Reuel, baked sweet potato and cauliflower mix. Plus a carafe of red wine. After lunch, we hit the museum's recommended highlights. Then the walk he and the inevitable Tesco pop-in. Martinis. Eventually off to see The Resistible Rise of Alberto Ui (Brecht). Strong play well performed. Home and the inevitable sandwich. Plus wine and sweetie.
9-21. Up at 8, crumpet for bfast. Got hooked on a architectural salvage show and watched until we left at 11:45. Off to Aldwych and ate at a small Italian rest. Reuel minestrone and pasta, me bruschetta and pepperoni pizza. And, of course, a bottle of wine. Then hike over the Waterloo Bridge to the Old Vic. Alas, the production of Much Ado was as bad as the Friday reviewers warned. Couldn't understand Vanessa Redgrave; James Earl Jones wasn't much better. So bad, we had interval wine.
Walked home through the Covent Garden terrible crowds. SOHO not much better. Drinks and then off to St Martins for a Handel-Mozart choral concert, Great evening. Then home for the inevitable sandwich and chips, plus wine. Reuel books a cab to the airport. And then to bed. Plan to pack in the am.
9-22. Up early to pack. Reuel makes eggs for both of us and we wait anxiously for the cab, van really, which arrives 15 minutes early. About. 49 minute drive to Heathrow. Check in goes smoothly . Buy chocolates at the duty free shop and board the plane for a long trip to San Francisco. Much food, but wine costs $7 per wee bottle. Sat next to a Chinese or Phillipino business woman heading to Honolulu. Next to her a Liberian banker.
Got to SF. made transfer and home by 9:30 pm. More wine , cheese and crackers, some unpacking and then to bed.
Great trip!
------------------------------------------------- Now Reuel's notes:
Already, last minute our first lap flight from 9-7. Ashmolean. Compact, interesting. Ate at its Dining Room, modern Brit posh. Mushroom soup, shared charcuterie platter.
Walked to Christ Church College. Crowds large so we didn't enter.
Stopped at Debenhams and bought a face cloth for one pound, then hit Tesco for provisions. Some rain, Martinis at home, then later looked for and found a closed gay pub, The Castle. Earlier heard singers performing in the chapel.
9-8. Same dreary but filling bfast in the Hall. Eggs, pork sausage, mushrooms , grilled tomatoes, beans, toast, fruit. Cereal and yogurt also available. Not likely to eat healthy. Miss my peanut butter.
Just back from a Sunday morning coffee concert at Holywell Music Rm., built 1742, which has hosted Handel, Haydn and other worthies. Today a trio:
clarinet, viola, piano. Brilliant clarinetist, Fiona Cross. Some rain expected. Lunch at The White Horse Pub: Sunday roast, mash, veggies, Yorkshire pudding, etc. Sort of edible and immensely helped by a bottle of merlot. On the other hand, it was cheap.Then another walk-about. Later, Evensong at CCCathedral, where we were amused/charmed by tiny terribly serious boy sopranos.Then bought provisions at Sainsbury.
9-9. Same boring bfast in hall, though I ate fewer slices of toast. Then off to meet the Blenheim tour group. Overestimated the time to get to our pick up point, so we were 1/2 hour early. One other on tour, an Australian woman who'd come down from London for the tour. 20 minute drive to palace. Stopped first at a church within sight of BP to see where Winston Churchill was buried. Also Consuelo Vanderbilt, 9th duchess who detested her husband and eventually left him. Uninteresting Norman-style church the 10th duke had demolished and rebuilt-reproduced. The zany rich.
As for Blenheim, been here so no surprises, except for the rainy weather that kept us out of the gardens. Blenheim is cold and unwelcoming on a day like this. Of course the public rooms overwhelm. But most were redecorated in the late 19th early 20th century so pay homage to Louis Quatorze or whatever. Excellent chirping guide. What else? Guides tend to look like Miss Marple, donned in heavy sweaters and shapeless woolen skirts.
After the guided tour and reluctant (me) to visit the very wet gardens, we waked to the village, Woodstock, an unbelievably picturesque town.
Ate at Brotheron Brasserie, an English tearoom masquerading as a French bistro but serving Italian. Had penne pesto and red wine. Adequate. wandered about town. Decided even with WIFI, Woodstock wasn't for us. Handsome Norman church, antique shops galore. That kind of upscale, second home place.
Picked up by driver and with 7 others began our slog through the countryside. Beautiful towns, whose denizens once were prosperous wool producers and merchants. Glimpsed manor houses in the distance, some dating from the 16th century, now mostly hotels or schools. Cotswolds difficult to get to without a car. Few trains and buses.
Back in the city by 6:30 and stopped at the Randolph's Morse Bar, named after Inspector Morse, who occasionally was shown drinking a pint there. The bar is in a posh riot of Victorian Gothic, at least in the public rooms Outside, St. Giles Fair took up St. Giles street. Home for sandwich, chips, and red wine.
9-10. Up at 6 am, lazy Reuel at 7:30. Usual breakfast. At 10 off to Rose Lane to walk through Christ Church meadow (with cows) to get to Christ Church College. Cost to enter, total 10 pounds. First visited Cathedral (kept getting accosted by elderly, ahem, docents wearing sashes and badges) then walked the grounds. Bought schlock for friends. Then off to Worcester College which was recommended viewing. Closed until tomorrow. Bought tickets for Blackwell Literary tour. Not enlightening but pleasant. Home,
ate sandwich. Joined tour at 2 pm. Led by retired MD Peter.
After tour, bought tickets for evening production Henry VI by Globe touring company. Then an inexpensive cream tea + prosecco at The Mitre. Home for rest before theater.
Saw Henry VI, a Shakespeare history play, vaguely remembered from Lehigh. Not a great play, but the traveling Globe production was impressive. Amused as always by the ice cream (cups w/ spoons) vendors who peddle wares at intermission. So many old ladies scooping up the ices. Just as many folks at the bar drinking vino swill.
Home, sandwich, wine.
9-11. Awoke to find message from Larissa re settlement requiring my signature. Usual breakfast. Chatted with our Tasmanian friends. Faxed a copy of the legal agreement to Larissa and hope she got it. Head porter at lodge helped us send it. Another tour with Peter, this time the Inklings. Lunch at Malmaison. Fish cake for Reuel, rigatoni for me. Mediocre mediocre (on the mediocre scale).
Kinda gloomy, only one other table. Obviously an expense account kinda place. Planned to visit Worcester College but rain deterred us, so went to Marks & Spencer, Looking for the perfect porkpie hat, not yet found. Tesco, souvenir shops instead, then home by 4pm.
Then out to look for Exeter's entrance so Reuel could buy a souvenir to commemorate grad school days. No success, but we walked to St. John's and were able to take a free tour of the grounds. In the gentle rain, alas. Then a last turn round Radcliffe Sq. and home for a martini. Beginning to feel I could give tours. Rain here so far at least is nothing like the mean Pacific storms we endure.
Now into my first drink and do not plan to hit the streets again, though who knows.
9-12. Up at 6 to pack. Then usual bfast in college and last chat-up from Dib (Deborah), the ashes lady, just returned from mum’s drop-off. She and hubby David live in tiny Franklin, Tasmania, where they head everything. Picked up by cab at 9:30. At the station Reuel worked with his iPhone to send Message to London landlord. No success and anxiety producing, as he got no reply. Then couldn't find the first class coach so suffered with proletariat. Train a great disappointment.
After more struggles at Paddington R connected with landlord. Took taxi to 22 Dean, greeted by chubby, pierced Spanish Maria. Next off to lunch at local pub, The Crown and Two Chairmen, where our waiter was a native San Diegan (Bonita) and former zoo employee. Introduced us to two San Diegans also having late lunch. Then a walk round. Bought tickets at ticket booth for The Ladykillers. Culminated in a shopathom at Tesco. Later off to the Vaudeville Theatre for the much-lauded "The Ladykillers." Mostly funny, lots of slapstick. Had trouble finding the theater but made it on time. Home for vino blanco and a sandwich brought from Oxford, Tesco of course.
9-13. Awake at 6:30. But haven't instant coffee to keep me happy. R still asleep. Apt compact but no closet, an obvious flaw but since we don't plan to entertain, it doesn't matter. Bed ok but sofa better. Quite extraordinary bathroom: Mexican tile (yellow and orange) and mirrored surface, the ceiling included. Alas, no ventilation, so the door needed to remain propped open when not in use. The tub was raised, which meant an oldster needed to hoist himself up to shower and gingerly step down to exit. Yikes, what fresh horror.
Off on a Soho walking tour in the rain, sometimes drizzle, sometimes heavy. After walk, lunch at Arbutus, recommended by Time Out. Spent rest of afternoon at home, out of the rain. Walked through driving rain to see Pride, a play about gay life in two decades. Tortured characters in an overwritten play by a playwright who's read Tennessee Williams. Home for food and bed.
9-14. After a leisurely am, started out for a 10:45 walking tour, after
a detour to TKTS. Though rain not predicted, it rained so we cut the tour and instead went to the National Portrait Gallery. Had great time ending with a lovely and expensive lunch in their rooftop dining room. Then off to see Top Hat, a stage version of the movie. A pleasant trifle . Cocktails at home and then off to A Doll's House. ADH was well acted, but neither of us was satisfied with the ending, as it seemed both abrupt and unlikely. Home through streets choked with young revelers, a typical Sat night in Soho.
9-15. Lazed about apt. Reuel struggled with stove, another mystery. Plan a walk to National for Edward II. Anticipate rain, so what else is new?
At noon, shopped at Tesco and sucked money out of the account.
Then the long and pleasant walk to the National. Ate lunch at the Lyttelton Cafe, a cafeteria with great food. Both had Thai vegetable package and broccoli salad plus dessert and glass of wine. Saw an extraordinary production of Marlowe's Edward II. Multimedia, curious set, costumes then and now. But it worked and made a perhaps not brilliant play live. Sat next to young American academics who preened for each other. Delicious.
Then walked back over Waterloo bridge in the light rain so we could wander through Covent Garden, which was full of buskers and tourists. Nothing new there. Then proceeded home for Martinis at 6 pm. Anecdote: walking up Dean St where we live a probably drunk young man asked me what street he was on. I said Dean, but thanks to my accent he got it wrong until I spelled it for him. Home now and drinking. Rain seems to have stopped. Well maybe not .
9-16. Bfast at home, natch. Walk to Fortnum and Mason, where the posh pay those prices. Lunch at Pierre Victoire, neighborhood French bistro. Lovely lunch, high mediocre. I had grilled asparagus with poached egg and ham. Nicely prepared, as was the stroganoff with chips. Add an inexpensive red wine and all's ok.
Home break and then a walk of Piccadilly with London Walks. Good tour, but we walked through rain squalls. Earlier we watched rain from our window.
Saw play at the Donmar. Many people speaking in incomprehensible dialects. Not a great night with Thespis. Actually bought us large wines at break to dull the pain.
Home, Wee amounts of food, boring Telly and then bed.
9-17. Up around 9; gettin' lazy. Usual brekky, Half bagel mit peanut butter; Reuel makes an egg. Then off to a Walk that begins in Covent Garden but takes us to the Royal Opera House, the Royal College of Surgeons' Museum, London School of Eco, St. Clement Danes Church, and the Courts of Law where we watched a case in progress. After the tour, we headed back, stopping at Porters English Rest. where I had steak and cheddar pie with mashed potatoes and Reuel tried a steak and kidney pudding which he really didn't like. Next to Leicester Sq and snagged cheap tickets for Spamalot tonight and. Pinter's Chimera tomorrow afternoon. Then a requisite visit to Tesco for hooch and grub. Email correspondence with Lawyer Larissa Lazarus re Winn payment.
Cocktails and good cheese with crackers, wait out the rain, and then off for an 8 pm performance of Spamalot bought on the cheap. Monty Python goes musical. Amazingly, lots o' fun. Then home for an egg salad-watercress sandwich and the unvarying chips.
Soon to bed.
9-18. Up at 7, then typical bfast, peanut butter on toasted wheat bagel. What else to do in the am?
Eventually we bestirred ourselves and walked to Oxford street to window shop. Visited Selfridge's, where the prices are staggering even before conversion. Left in a funk for M & S, where I bought a sweater (£15) and Reuel bought harlequin socks, a typical purchase . We stopped for lunch at Pierre Victoire, good of course. Bob--zucchini cakes with goat cheese, red cabbage, some mint sauce. Entree--sautéed chicken salad. All good. Reuel--onion soup and pasta in a Gorgonzola sauce with spinach.
Next off to see Chinamerica, a play about Tiananmen Sq and
accidental betrayal. Well made play, almost cinematic. Wonderful staging and quite good cast. Play High mediocre.
Home, Martinis in anticipation of a Bloomsbury pub walk at 7 pm.
Walked to Holborn underground for walk; not the guide we expected but okay. Female, posh accent. Stopped at one pub and enjoyed a small Spitefire ale. Okay but temp set for Brits.
Walked home after tour. Happily I wore my new sweater for warmth. Trip to Bath nixed because of possible rain and my lack of enthusiasm.
9-19. Up around 8. Reuel making his egg and humus condo.
Kinda watching tv--BBC of course--buy trash, too. Yesterday Jeremy Kyle, Jerry Springer type. Today, a dating show on which the gals cook for the dude. Best food wins fair hunk.
Walk to M&S, then about Covent Garden and St. Paul's Covent Garden. Next a set Lebanese lunch --falafel and cous cous. Reuel- chicken schwarma. Great but too much Food, red wine.
Rain has begun.
Off to The Curious Incident of the Dog at Night-time, a play about a 15 yr old autistic genius. Great play, beautifully acted and staged, a product of the National. Back home for a martini and rest before Matilda. Rain has stopped and I see a patch of blue sky. (Realized that the star of Big Bang Theory has modeled his performance after an autistic genius.)
Martini, then rest, and then off to Matilda, the hit musical. Dancing moppets, incomprehensible dialogue from children and adults. Disliked it so much I sprang for wine at break. Half sandwich, chips and wine, then to bed.
9-20. Usual bfast. First off to
TKTS , where we bought Alberto Ui tickets, then to St. Martin's for Sat. eve tickets for Mozart Requiem and misc Handel. Then home and off to the Brit Museum, where we spent most of the day . Took 2 tours, Ancient Greece and the Enlightenment in a room specially constructed in the 18th century. Cited by guide as the finest Greek revival room in England. Then we took lunch in the Restaurant, each of us having the peculiar (no alternative) two salad option. Me: cous cous and mixed green bean salad; Reuel, baked sweet potato and cauliflower mix. Plus a carafe of red wine. After lunch, we hit the museum's recommended highlights. Then the walk he and the inevitable Tesco pop-in. Martinis. Eventually off to see The Resistible Rise of Alberto Ui (Brecht). Strong play well performed. Home and the inevitable sandwich. Plus wine and sweetie.
9-21. Up at 8, crumpet for bfast. Got hooked on a architectural salvage show and watched until we left at 11:45. Off to Aldwych and ate at a small Italian rest. Reuel minestrone and pasta, me bruschetta and pepperoni pizza. And, of course, a bottle of wine. Then hike over the Waterloo Bridge to the Old Vic. Alas, the production of Much Ado was as bad as the Friday reviewers warned. Couldn't understand Vanessa Redgrave; James Earl Jones wasn't much better. So bad, we had interval wine.
Walked home through the Covent Garden terrible crowds. SOHO not much better. Drinks and then off to St Martins for a Handel-Mozart choral concert, Great evening. Then home for the inevitable sandwich and chips, plus wine. Reuel books a cab to the airport. And then to bed. Plan to pack in the am.
9-22. Up early to pack. Reuel makes eggs for both of us and we wait anxiously for the cab, van really, which arrives 15 minutes early. About. 49 minute drive to Heathrow. Check in goes smoothly . Buy chocolates at the duty free shop and board the plane for a long trip to San Francisco. Much food, but wine costs $7 per wee bottle. Sat next to a Chinese or Phillipino business woman heading to Honolulu. Next to her a Liberian banker.
Got to SF. made transfer and home by 9:30 pm. More wine , cheese and crackers, some unpacking and then to bed.
Great trip!
------------------------------------------------- Now Reuel's notes:
 |
| Bob and Don |
Will the plane to London be business class (dear friends Danny and Brian got us wait listed)? Will it rain every day putting a bolix on our walking tours in Oxford and London ? Will the accommodations look like the web photos? What if . . .
These ruminations as Don drives us to the airport in the family limo. (Aka his Chevy Trailblazer). And as if my mind was read by the Furies, San Diego's new terminal is suddenly now in operation and the new signage is confusing, so we arrive at Arrivals rather than Departures; after a half hour of circumnavigations in and out of the airport including a charming tour of the parking lot, we are finally at the First Class departures where Ethel after much consultation discovers we have only one business class opening for the transatlantic segment. Uncertainty. The future is decidedly murky.The present however is pleasant enough in the new United First Class lounge, all glass and glitz and freebies--too bad we've had breakfast--and where I tell Bob he can have the one available transatlantic business class seat. I can't do that he says. But there is a telltale smile curve of the lips belying that noble pronouncement.
Ain't like it used to be--1st class that is (or anything else for that matter said the elderly fogey) but no champagne for Bob-- only Sauvignon blanc--and what brand of vodka do you have? Tito's. I giggle but passenger in front of me says it’s a premium brand. Shows me an ad for it. American Handmade. A discovery. Comfortable seats and no doubt a far better class of passenger is this merry band of 12 elite. I personally feel morally elevated.
Gorgeous views of
Hot nuts - would you believe- with the bloody Mary's and wines. Lunch is a great-really--tomato based soup- and a salad with chunks of chicken. Almost as if no time has past we're in
Marvelously comfortable pod seats, champagne "while we're on the ground". It's not going to be a bumpy ride.
Bob's TV in his pod is not working so he is transferred to the pod facing mine and we can toast our glasses of wine, mine is Chateau Neuf de Pape.
The opulence of The Great Gatsby on one's Personal screen is an appropriate accompaniment to the impressive dinner. I count 3 forks and 3 knives. Silver not plastic. As a business class passenger I am honor bound not to commit any act of terrorism. Can't speak for the plastic knived fellows in the nether region of the aero plane.
Would you like more Cabernet? Very attentive service. They prowl the aisles with their offerings.
But. There's no hope. I can't sleep, despite the flatbed and an ambian. I seriously resent all my biz class neighbors slumbering away. Bob gets a pass of course but jeez. I'll be an OxfordZombie tomorrow/today.
DAY 2 THURSDAY SEPT 5
No hassles on exiting except that I am woozy and ungainly. Still we whip through customs with our priority status. And there's a tall fellow in a grey suit with a sign proclaiming “Reuel Olin” and then wordlessly we're on our way.
Leaving our belongings with the porter atWadham College , we wander the town, stop in at the tourist center, drop in at Trinity College
Leaving our belongings with the porter at
 |
| Our "staircase" |
Of the suite. Third stair (floor walkup) located off the main quad (quieter) in a very old structure. However, the suite is quite updated (all new bathroom for example). Immense living room space, 13 foot ceiling with a (one) beam. And then there are the two tiny student bedrooms off of that living room which I remember as the monastic friend where I slept and was awakened every morning by my scout ("Good morning sir. Time to get up sir.") from my
After we shower the plane off and nap the afternoon away we wander the streets. I get teary. Remembering.
Bob is annoyed by all the beautiful young people who make him feel old. I have less of a problem there. Being invisible I can just enjoy them.
Celebrating good news from our attorney Larissa, we are guided by a charming young man into the Lounge Bar of the Macdonald’s Randolf Hotel (built 1864; it's other bar is the Morse after inspector Morse, a habitude that today is crowded to the seams) and choose their Vesper martini (presumably James Bond's favorite of gin, vodka and vermouth). We are settled on the window looking out at the Ashmolean. Sashed curtains with unapologetically rotund valences. Dowdy silk damask wall coverings. 30 ft high coffered ceilings. Paintings by Sir Isaac Lancaster, who lampooned society. Morse would have his drink here too.
"Which one of you gets the Vesper?" Ha. Ha. Delicious. Must always have it at the Randolf (and we do have another). Comes with a selection of nuts, olives and miniature spiced breadsticks. The women who had their high tea there leave and we are alone in the big room. A refill. So we're now exclusively paying for the electricity. Another drink? Bob decides he'd curl up in a chair like a cat if we did. I, spoilsport, advise springing catlike outta here.
Time for Tesco and it’s a grand multitiered version. We find sufficient peculiar sandwiches and wines and vodka (next time take that Rum Runner package I bought for smuggling liquor onto cruise ships in one's checked baggage. Oh the criminal joy when the mailman delivered that little thiever’s helper).
In our digs we have a quite good Argentina Malbec in the wine glasses we didn't forget to bring, Bob a falafel & hummus sandwich and Reuel, a salmon & cucumber -- all chased off with a chocolate bar. Nice to have a refrigerator in our student cocoon.
Bob is annoyed by all the beautiful young people who make him feel old. I have less of a problem there. Being invisible I can just enjoy them.
Celebrating good news from our attorney Larissa, we are guided by a charming young man into the Lounge Bar of the Macdonald’s Randolf Hotel (built 1864; it's other bar is the Morse after inspector Morse, a habitude that today is crowded to the seams) and choose their Vesper martini (presumably James Bond's favorite of gin, vodka and vermouth). We are settled on the window looking out at the Ashmolean. Sashed curtains with unapologetically rotund valences. Dowdy silk damask wall coverings. 30 ft high coffered ceilings. Paintings by Sir Isaac Lancaster, who lampooned society. Morse would have his drink here too.
"Which one of you gets the Vesper?" Ha. Ha. Delicious. Must always have it at the Randolf (and we do have another). Comes with a selection of nuts, olives and miniature spiced breadsticks. The women who had their high tea there leave and we are alone in the big room. A refill. So we're now exclusively paying for the electricity. Another drink? Bob decides he'd curl up in a chair like a cat if we did. I, spoilsport, advise springing catlike outta here.
Time for Tesco and it’s a grand multitiered version. We find sufficient peculiar sandwiches and wines and vodka (next time take that Rum Runner package I bought for smuggling liquor onto cruise ships in one's checked baggage. Oh the criminal joy when the mailman delivered that little thiever’s helper).
In our digs we have a quite good Argentina Malbec in the wine glasses we didn't forget to bring, Bob a falafel & hummus sandwich and Reuel, a salmon & cucumber -- all chased off with a chocolate bar. Nice to have a refrigerator in our student cocoon.
DAY 3 FRIDAY SEPT 6
A good nights sleep. Interesting to be bereft of a Telly. Perhaps there will be no news to worry about anyway.Don't seem to be a lot of people around Wadham. The back quad we face is peaceful--large shade trees flanking vintage buildings, with gothic filials and smokestacks, overlooking big manicured lawns.
A chirpy lady. "I think it's here dear", helps us find the great hall. And then we are invited to help ourselves by another helpful chirpy; she will pour our tea. Full English breakfast and all quite good. Eggs, mushrooms, bacon, ham. All good cheer as the worthies in their frames look down on us at our long table (ironic that communal dining is the fashionable Now). Beautiful stained glass, high ceilings, rich woods. And then a walk back through our quad to stare up at the (third floor -- 36 steps) mullioned windows of our quarters. Cool overcast day (in contrast to hot yesterday--I'm sure an anomaly that) but no real threat of rain.
Our city walking tour.
Women were permitted only in the late 19th c. Wm. Morris mended bikes. He started an auto factory in1912 here. Now only the mini is assembled here.
At Baliol, Howard Marks sold drugs. Down the street there is a Sculpture of a man about to jump.
The Bodleian is expanding to accommodate new editions.
And here we are at our "own" college. Next to the Kings Arms, 1616. Sculptures- to the left is Nicholas Wadham. He founded his college for poor young men. His Dorothea stands to the right. "For the greater glory of God; for sound advancement of Education. For utility of the kingdom." The Wadhams never visited
Dorothea micromanaged the building however. She insisted women workers "not be comely in the face." (Too distracting.) Chapel to left. Originally students were worshipping in there 5 or 6 times a day. James 1st's statue stands above the founding couple.
Sitting in Wadham chapel
questions that provoke discussion. 3 terms per year, each 8 weeks. Students matriculate in 3 years. Michaelmas, Hilary and . . . 9000 Pds. a year to attend school. Scholarships available. Costs L1000 a term to live here.
Beautiful chapel. Not many students use it. Secular. Can marry in your college chapel. Lecturn eagle, symbol of evangelism -- spreading the worId. Servants pews extant.
Christopher Wren studied here.
New Bodleian library is 30 miles away with 8.5 million books. Here the Bodleian is more public friendly, mainly for exhibitions.
Wadham sits Across from
Radcliff's Camera. Now it's in restoration. No longer is it a medical library--but a reading room.
High street. Oriel being reconstructed. Behind the scaffolding is a statue of Cecil Rhodes. Founded De Beers. Left his total fortune to his Rhodes Scholarship. He was an imperialist--wanted to promote English as the language of peace. Scholarships granted each year to 100 young men from English speaking countries. Since 1970's women have been eligible.
Cameron was the first prime minister from there.
Gargoyles are rain drains; here they are not drains but are called “grotesques”.
At Bodleian. Exams at first by speaking. All studying was oral. Viva voce. Now viva important part of the exam at
Students wear gowns reflecting their early priestly studies. Graduations occur here. (Divinity Schoolroom)
Lovely tour! Still so much to experience in
And here we sit in QUOD BRASSERIE sipping Cheney Syrah Grenache (nice) whilst waiting for our set. This was not the idea, but we arrived at the Ashmolean, which was after the city tour, to find it inexplicably closed for the day.
We choose the same 2 course set of a potato leek and marrow soup (Bob "very delicate")-(Reuel ""It has a little punch") and a steak bernaisse. (The pomme frites are good but the steak is tough necessitating much bernaisse sauce to appease it somewhat). We are seated next to a fashionable couple speaking Upper English and wonder what that dish wrapped in foil is at another table. Large place, great decor. L52.71=$81.81, Harbinger of prices to come?
At
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| Magdelin College, Thames, Big Faces and Thumb |
Down an alley we discover "the famous Turf tavern" reputed to be the oldest in
And now the sun returns. Back at Wadham, we encounter trouble with our staircase's combination. A sweet young thing from the college has difficulty with it too; then someone else in authority tries it. They're hilarious telling us we can skip numbers, etc because it’s the year of the college. No need to repeat once you pass zed, etc. Totally incomprehensible. We promise we'll never leave our room so there'll be no problem.
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| Views to our quad |
Settled in we nap until its tragically past cocktail hour. Martinis are magically available in genuine martini glasses. (We know how to pack.) Drop in a couple of olives and we're anywhere (except getting up from our leather chairs by the fireplace to view the sun dappled
Still time for a wander around the town which has grown-- more commercial--since we last saw it maybe ten years ago and since I last famously was an expat student here 48 ahem years ago--charming little town then. Rush back to pee . . . And to consume more sandwiches with a decent red.
Getting the hang of our digs.
Breezy out ("fresh" Bob corrects) on our way to the Hall for our huge English breakfast to be greeted again by the charming ladies in black ever ready to pour tea (me) or coffee (him). We see some of the tables are set with glasses for wine, no doubt a luncheon or dinner conference.
 |
| TEENY PROBLEM WITH BREAKFAST BUFFETS |
Post breakfast we explore the newer graduate portion of the college, modern classrooms, dining halls, accommodations and then take some quiet time in our rooms. I can say rooms because there are 2 tiny bedrooms off the main room. All in all quite comfortable.
 |
| WADHAM CHOIR REHEARSING IN CHAPEL |
Now off to the Ashmolean which should be open after its bizarre all-day closure (Oxford Times says an employee was injured yesterday--hence the closure. What's the real story?) .
Amazing museum. Chock full. From sarcophagi in Egypt, through the renaissance to European baroque to Dutch and Flemish still life to travel sketches (paintings from nature), spoons, finger rings. Come and get it.
Upstairs and we're getting modern, pre Raphaelites et al.
And more upstairs still--actually a virtually hidden entrance requiring a guard calling her supervisor for directions-- we're at the ASHMOLEAN’S ROOFTOP DINING ROOM.
I note so far that most of the visitors we see are English, not many Americans around. Is it the exchange rate that discourages? Is it that summer is for American tourism? That
Everywhere you look it's St Mary The Virgin. Did the other St. Mary put out?
Wandering about, we finally duck into Debenhams to buy a wash cloth.
Then to good old Tesco for provisions, e.g. wine and of course marvelously peculiar sandwiches.
Nap time at our digs. When it's cocktail hour, the rain descends so our thoughts of venturing out are dashed. As it is, the quad looks sufficiently lovely for us to enjoy homemade martinis accompanied by Ralf Vaughn Williams Fantasia (on the iPhone). Who could want more?
Nevertheless, when the rain is vanquished , we then discover choristers rehearsing in the anti-chamber of Wadham chapel. Lovely.
We decide to find "the only gay bar in
How nice in our rooms to have Argentinian Malbec ( now a favorite) with those famous sandwiches. Sondheim's birthday concert playing on my iphone and so to bed.
DAY 5 SUNDAY SEPT 8
It's Music Sunday and I've slept as much as 4 hours total. Not good. Bob emerges from the bathroom to say, "I think
In the great hall I note that you can tell who is British by how they hold their utensils. Also they are terribly quiet; you just hear the rumble on the old wooden floors, mostly from the servers. And they all have that British look, especially the older ones, unfussy and solid as if they'd be damned ready for the next world war if need there be. We sit at a wall end so we have support but imagine the horror of sitting in the middle of the long table, climbing over everyone to get a refill of sausage.
The air becomes blessedly less brisk as we walk around the lanes surrounding Holywell Music Room having purchased our tickets for the 11:15 Sunday Coffee Concert. Cheery ticket seller prompts "Concessions?" I'm tempted to say "Homosexuals?" but instead admit we're seniors. Nets a pound savings apiece. Not sure homosexuals would get so generous a discount though it is reputedly uber-liberal Wadham's concert hall after all. Morning temperature read is 45 degrees. Brr.
MUSIC ROOM. Charming, actually beautiful, hall, oldest in
Very full house. Even seating on the stage. Before the concert much maneuvering and shoehorning occurs. The violist announces a program change. "What language was he speaking?" I ask. Hall seats 200. I estimate 25 patrons under 50; same number over 80. I like how the violist when he's not playing applauds and shuffles his feet on the floor to create a roaring effect.
Eight Pieces for Clarinet (we hear only four of them). Max Bruch; (lovely though we both agree we don't really like clarinet--its a little bleating for our taste; the softening grace of the viola helps a lot here; Clarinet Sonata, Francis Poulenc (written for Benny Goodman!) Amazing, pyrotechnically brilliant performance showing the full range of the clarinet's capacity, arabesques, surprising leaps; (they throw in a Brahms clarinet solo here--lovely, not sure which Brahms it is); Trio in E flat for piano, clarinet and viola, 'Kegelstatt'. Mozart. Pianist: "One of the most perfect of his pieces . . . though not necessarily in our hands". Doesn't surprise however. Fiona Cross - clarinet.
After a little lie-down we find the tiny utterly charming White Horse pub for our Sunday Roast (L12.95) with, sacrilegiously, a Tierra merlot not an ale or stout or something pub masculine. Quite nice – ok-- authentic pub Roast for which at least one of us has been pining though these are not the thick slices of the London Strand’s roast years ago. All too perfect, from solicitous cockney waitress to the food and we're enticed to have stem ginger ice cream (whatever that is) which in a cup package is quite nice indeed.
Elderly Customers come in. "Get yourself comfortable." How's that possible I think. They've managed to cram in as many little tables as possible. This 17th c. place (tall guys all duck) absolutely gets a ten on charm and Englishness, what the docs ordered.
Next into Baliol, oldest (1290!). Gorgeous. Fellowes garden (thank goodness it's not a maize says a lady who precedes us through the entrance hedges), the great hall - our Wadham worthies look more distinguished in their frames though here the ceiling is higher; next the chapel.
And then on to the central core in search of genuine
 |
| AN EVENSONG PROCESSION |
Waiting in the vestabule with English parishioners/visitors. Chirp chirp. That's the sound of their language to my ears. We face the rear of the gigantic carved wooden organ, stories high. And we enter the gorgeous cathedral at 6 pm. Moments of mournful minor key organ music and though I'm an atheist it evokes a kind of meditative spirituality as will the Evensong. Enter the procession of choristers, the adorable little boys and . . . adorable big boys. Four little ones are called up to the dean to be inducted into the choir and to accept the blue ribbon necklace bearing their chorus medallion. Every religion's got its bar mitzvah ceremony. Here apparently they receive scholarships to the choir school. We love Evensong--we've attended a number of them in
The religious stuff of course is patently hooey—“I'm humble but worship Me and sacrifice your first born to God who loves you” (Bill Maher's Imaginary Friend). Sorry. These seem otherwise intelligent people. However the setting and the ritual and the music are boffo . . . the whole production lasts only an hour and we get it for a five pounder donation into the velvet bag.
And the city is magical at night
Sainsbury's for wonderful mature British cheddar (slices, we've no knife) rough oatmeal crackers (note: good!) to go with . . . Martinis. We share a "fried chicken" sandwich (it's nothing of the kind thank goodness) and chips accompanied by iPhone YouTube sax (more felicitous than clarinet) jazz favorites (take the A train anyone anywhere?) and this is the Compleat (sp. intended) Music Sunday.
DAY 6 MONDAY SEPT 9
OXFORD
Yesterday, Sunday, was Music Day inOxford , a coffee concert in the AM and Evensong in the Evening.
Today promises to be overcast and occasionally rainy so it is Tour Day of course-- Cotswolds and Blenheim. Important to have typical English weather when traveling afield. Bob, now rising at 6:30 says "that's how they keep their complexions." Perhaps it will do something for ours.
After our hearty (and same) English breakfast - topped off with white tea, not hot because I like it white. Now that it's Monday not many of us are staying at the U. We don necessary “brollies” to arrive too early (as is usual) at the Oxford Playhouse, the meeting place. Is this where I saw a summer of D’Oyle Carte Gilbert and Sullivan operettas those many years ago with Martin Green, the great comic interpreter? Maybe. Remember to Google Oxford Playhouse 1965 (or was it 64?) when not in data saving airplane mode.
Just one other lady fromLondon (a Melbournian) and us in the red mini-van for Blenheim; this afternoon, Phillip the white bearded proprietor tells us that they'll be lots of people on a bus.
Yesterday, Sunday, was Music Day in
Today promises to be overcast and occasionally rainy so it is Tour Day of course-- Cotswolds and Blenheim. Important to have typical English weather when traveling afield. Bob, now rising at 6:30 says "that's how they keep their complexions." Perhaps it will do something for ours.
After our hearty (and same) English breakfast - topped off with white tea, not hot because I like it white. Now that it's Monday not many of us are staying at the U. We don necessary “brollies” to arrive too early (as is usual) at the Oxford Playhouse, the meeting place. Is this where I saw a summer of D’Oyle Carte Gilbert and Sullivan operettas those many years ago with Martin Green, the great comic interpreter? Maybe. Remember to Google Oxford Playhouse 1965 (or was it 64?) when not in data saving airplane mode.
Just one other lady from
We leave from the Jericho section of Oxford Orange Party a party dress shop that also sells fireworks. It's like a pickle and squid sandwich combo.
We're onWoodstock
Dons had to be celibate--intellect and celibacy thought to go together--and must live in college. (He says too bad for him since he's had 3 wives.) 7% go to public (fee paying) schools.Village of Bladen
Jennie Jerome fell off her horse when 8 months pregnant so Churchill was accidentally born at Blenheim.
We're on
Dons had to be celibate--intellect and celibacy thought to go together--and must live in college. (He says too bad for him since he's had 3 wives.) 7% go to public (fee paying) schools.
Jennie Jerome fell off her horse when 8 months pregnant so Churchill was accidentally born at Blenheim.
1/2 mile to Woodstock
The good and bad that we chose today. Good- horse trials and 38,000 people will be at Blenheim later this week. The Bad-rain rain go away.
St. Martins church cemetery where all the Churchills are buried. Consuelo Vanderbilt, though she despised the nasty little duke she married, was also buried here.
Eldest son had to inherit; changed that when the cause eldest son died at 17. Blenheim has the same architect as Castle Howard.
Present duke on to 4th wife. 850,000 people visit each year so he's not poor. His was the 1st home to open to public--in 1950.
Suggestions:Woodstock
Phillip drops us off at the palace.
St. Martins church cemetery where all the Churchills are buried. Consuelo Vanderbilt, though she despised the nasty little duke she married, was also buried here.
Eldest son had to inherit; changed that when the cause eldest son died at 17. Blenheim has the same architect as Castle Howard.
Present duke on to 4th wife. 850,000 people visit each year so he's not poor. His was the 1st home to open to public--in 1950.
Suggestions:
Phillip drops us off at the palace.
GreatHall. Marquis becomes next Duke.
1st Dukes father was Sir Winston. Family motto Faithful but Unfortunate.
Reception room became dining room, seating for 40. Family still has Xmas dinner here. Painted in 1790. Ceiling is of 1st duke being restrained by peace lady. Tromp deux of men from around the world on walls. Major players in 17th c.
Queen Anne said pay me no rent, just send victory over French flag once a year to Windsor.
Exiting the palace, for such it is, no snow globes in the gift shop. Apparently the Brits are insufficiently tacky. Pity. 
Here in Brotherton's Brasserie in the village of Woodstock
Wm. the Conqueror rewarded his barons with land. By 14
00 there were 4 million sheep here. Cotswolds became richest in England
With the industrial revolution the wool industry dwindled. There are 30 million sheep today for 60 million people. Kept today for their meat.
We pass thru Whitney. Weaving town. Blankets. Traded with American Indians.
And here he is in his medium size red bus at 2 precisely. There are six others for the afternoon tour, total 9. (Bus can seat 16). As to Cotswold. A cote is an enclosure for sheep. Wold is hillside. Sheep first introduced by Romans. The Cotswold Lion. Highest quality wool. 880 sq miles up to Avon down to Bath . Oxford not officially in Cotswold. We'll be traveling mostly in the county of Glostershire
Most buildings composed of Cotswold limestone. Stone tile pitched roofs. This was where the weavers weaved. Later added dormers. (French Dormer=to sleep)
Next Crawley . No church but two pubs. "Different way of raising the spirits."
Minster Lovell. Lovell rewarded for fighting Joan of Arc. At his manor house: ruins 500+ years old. Dove coats for doves who were used for meat. In the buttery stored alcoholics butts=barrels. (Peasants given beer for their work.)
Great story about a Lovell Earl who died in hiding here when in disfavor. Trapped. Discovered hundreds of years later, quite dead of course.
We pass thru a village where an old church and pubs are made into private homes. Result of historical designations. One can buy a church now and change the interior.(Bob remembers I told him that I tried to buy [bid on] a church near Lock Haven when I was teaching there. Didn’t get it. The turns and turns that history takes you through).
We see sheep in rolling hills; have seven month life. Happy and unknowing the fate that will befall them. Pass where the Mitford sisters were born and buried. (We saw a Mitford family portrait exhibit one year at the National Portrait Gallery.)
Burford is a rich town. Fine leather workers. King Chas came here with mistress Nell Gwynn for horse racing.
We see 2 teen male lovers smooching outside of Burford church. (
Amazing town with all these charming terribly old buildings Picture postcard but all that traffic and parking spoils the scene somewhat. 40 minute stop.
Going into
Filkins
Busy route in medieval times. 30 years ago a couple set up a weaving mill here. We stop. Sheared heavy wool of Cotswold Sheep. Here's an authentic shepherd cottage. Pretty spare and monastic, probably 8x 5. We buy . . . Nothing. Not much use for wool in SoCal.
Eastleach Martin & Eastleach Turville
On each side of River Leach. Respective churches face each other.
Hatherope. Coln St. Albans.
Bibury. (
8 weavers cottages on 4 acres. Men weaved up top. Abandoned during industrial rev. Now owned by national trust. Henry Ford not allowed to buy and transport them to
Rd. 812. Built in 1812 as a turnpike. 18th c Bath for wealthy. Then at end of 18th c.
5p toll bridge over
the ferry boat and almost drowned.Phillip drops the ladies on the tour off at the
Home: steak fajita wraps and red wine from Shiraz cab to Malbec all to the strains of soft jazz, Reuel interpretively dancing to that music like a Maenad unleashed.
(Good thing no one watching including Bob intent on communing with his iphone like the young lad he becomes at these times of high tech absorption.)
(Good thing no one watching including Bob intent on communing with his iphone like the young lad he becomes at these times of high tech absorption.)
DAY 7 TUES SEPT 10
Crystal clear day. At long table greeted by our Aussie friends back from their ash-dumping (inelegantly but accurately put) mission up North in
We take the Broadwalk across the lovely meadow, replete with stream, see the Cows, and thence to . . .
Love the Sheldonian Theatre, all designed by Chris (we're on short first name basis since we've stayed at same college--Wadham) Wren. Climb to the cupola - all those rickety stairs but well worth the pano view over all of
We keep passing Wadham across from Trinity.
In Wadham. 12000 Pds they paid. Royal society 1st met here. Catholics. In the beginning only 10 rich kids were admitted. We enter "our" chapel.
Donors personal shield. In garden they do Shakespeare plays. This year Pride and Prejudice. We see a private place where we must have a picnic tomorrow.
Of Dorothy Sayers (lived at Bath Hotel), worked at Blackwell. 1st woman to receive a degree.
Turf tavern--Lewis Carol and Oscar Wilde drank here.
Dry bridge of sighs.
Radcliffe camera is the student reading room of Bodlian. Core of the university.
All Souls. No students only fellowes. Great wine cellar.
The Bear pub did bear fighting in the cellar 13thc.
Maybe dine at The Mitre tomorrow.
Shakespear’s bedroom adjacent to Pizza Express next to the covered market.
Excellent tour. We should be able to give one ourselves since there's so much repeated info. Though one doesn't really retain much – sad confession. Maybe these disjointed bursts of notes will help.
Now to purchase our evening play tickets and then pop into The Mitre (its 4pm after all) for the Queen's tea plus prosecco. "You gentlemen will be snoozing the rest of the afternoon." (Every one a character.) Veddy nice. Seated on a window looking out at High Street. A little reminiscent of Billy Reeds inPalm Springs , though this is authentic olde. A very guilty very pleasure. and for L4.50 for the queens tea plus proseco it sure beats the L33.50 tea at The Randolf. Includes 2 scones , clotted (clotting!) cream (Bob insisting like a good/bad mother that I eat it all – as he does) and a strawberry jam. Yea. Next time in Oxford , do again.
Respite time back at the digs before venturing forth into the bustle of St. Gyles Fayre..
Now to purchase our evening play tickets and then pop into The Mitre (its 4pm after all) for the Queen's tea plus prosecco. "You gentlemen will be snoozing the rest of the afternoon." (Every one a character.) Veddy nice. Seated on a window looking out at High Street. A little reminiscent of Billy Reeds in
 |
| St. Gyles Fayre |
HARRY 6.
Struggling against the crowds (though not nearly as bad as any night in Times Square post-play), we are hungry and find a chile lime coconut chicken and an "ultimate" fruit and nut cookie (both excellent) for a late night "snack" in our dorm room, oops college suite.
DAY 8 WED SEPT 11
I will miss the large pile of mushrooms I scoop up each morning to make my breakfast truly "useful". Bob insists my meal must be encased in ice now that I've taken several glamour shots of it. Not so, I demur. It's at least warm.
Our lovely friends from
Now to deal with getting a signed statement to our attorney, Larissa.
Much mishigas in the porter's lounge until we figure out how to print out from the iPhone and fax back to the attorney. I get to buy a Wadham Coll. bookmark (they were out of pens). Bob says "I'd say they're very helpful at the college" and since he said it, I write it. My job. Note discarded bottles at head of our staircase, 9, ours. Wonder if we have developed a rep here.
To Blackwell's again this time to try their more contempo authors tour, Inklings, at 11:45. Peter’s there looking more ex surgeon-like when we purchase the Tickets. I remember to say “concession please” and he says “You looked too young”.
At tour attendance call I am Olin as in olive (appropriate). Edward Tangy Lee started Inklings. 2 inklings from
Tolkien got a scholarship to
Back to Randolf. Story of Inspector Lewis is filmed here.
Down the block.
Of the big “Fayre "occurring in our midst, it was the only day off for workers, and it's always for children.
Of the Inklings favorite Eagles Nest pub Lewis said of Tolkien's magnum opus "not another bleeding elf story", overheard by landlady. Rabbits came in from outside hence called the rabbit room where they met. (Shadowlands is a movie about C. D. Lewis).
Only Charles Lewis of inklings was not an alumnus. Dorothy Sayers was asked to leave their meetings.
Tolkien wrote Hobbits while marking exam papers.
At MALMAISON by the old castle, a former prison, now a posh hotel and restaurant. We pass by the cells ("Mind your head") on either side of a long room, very fashionably done up. Only two others (rich businessmen, upper class authoritative accents delivered rather loudly "rather rather") in the restaurant. It's decidedly expense account style. Really nice humus spicy with bread. Bob insists I slather it on. Bob orders pan pasta rigatoni, ("homey dish"). I like the seasoning actually- but 5 star no) in a copper pot, I a haddock fish cake, not brilliant but ok, actually I'm not a fan of the combination and saucing, a mound with egg and spinich piled on, better in concept than execution, and I was forewarned that its not a huge portion. Everything a la carte here including sides. The Tempranillo Garnacha , however, gets better with age.
One gent talks of the chilldhood maid, Bridget, he loved who taught him "many things"; his mother was "mean" with wages. Both trade tales of their villas abroad. That's steep entertainment however at L55.99 = $88.00 with tip. A wrong turn.
Of course there is rain so therefore brief stop-ins in Marks and Sparks and our old companion Boswells Bookstore and . . . for this and that requiring a brief rest back home to discover Bob's "secret diaries" (more concise and to the point than some who tend to be a tad over-exuberant) before heading out again for "completions".
Occasionally we see skinny people walking around heads down, undoubtedly students, looking depressed.
A tutor tooted the toot (ok, martini mission accomplished); Bob gets to u-tube any music he wants and he finds us Marian McPartland (big surprise-his favorite) aplenty. Very mellow as we look out at the leafy, now wet, quad we . . . and from the other view from the interior bedrooms and bath the view is of the soggy passersby under their brollies. I dance to the jazz and Bob advises me to don my peacock bathrobe which makes it special. Curtain.
DAY 9 THURSDAY SEPT 12 OXFORD TO LONDON
I wake up from a dream that has us in a German prisoner of war hospital during WW2 where horrible experiments are being performed on us soldiers. A visiting red-lipsicked Ethel Rosenberg type in high style 40's garb smiles but is insidious. We are anesthetized into thinking this all never happened.
Hoping our holiday in
Lovely conversation with our Tasmanian friends at breakfast, particularly Deb [pronounced Dib] of Deb and David (that's all we'll need to say when we next visit island of Tasmania (!) since they are well known there she says). They are retired designers/artists. She runs the local classics movie theatre specializing in American films such as her favorite Whatever Happened To Baby Jane. Charming gal. (But her chatter keeps Bob from overeating all his toast.)
Nothing left but to fill out our comment cards: "Fine indeed. Shower for thin kids. Will recommend." And haul our luggage down the two winding flights from
Tense waiting for porter-called cab, 5 minutes late, tense with retrieving ticket at rail station, many buttons to press, tense about alerting London flat, tense with getting on to train, not knowing which car is our first class one. (First part of first car which is not where we, directionless, wind up). Looks like they have no conductor. Tense when at gigantic Paddington trying to text the rental agency again.
Forgiving (she was able to catch a ciggy and coffee) Sweet Maria from
The Crown and 2 Chairmen--only 100 steps away thank goodness considering we're tired (though Bob always insists on unpacking first thing) and ravenous and need to decompress-- this pub has a resident sheep dog wandering around. John the Waiter has a Rasputin beard and numerous ear piercings and surprisingly an American accent--what story is that? Yes we're in
The chicken and bacon club sandwich with an acceptable bottle of merlot (
Bob refuses to say this is "our pub"; we have 10, yes 10 wonderful days of choices ahead.
We hear the words "
TESCO is only down the block from our flat (as is everything -- Soho Theatre next door, a dozen restaurants and pubs on this street alone) and we are soon laden with provisions (thank god there's a lift).
Nice to have the comforting accompaniment of TV this time. Clear from SkyNews, however, that Russia-US-Syria will be a worrisome cat and mouse game. We hear that Prince Will is leaving the RAF to protect the wild rhino about which he is "getting quite emotional" although he doesn't sound emotional at all being a veddy veddy upper class Brit.
Back home having had our hummus and falafel wraps and potato chips with white wine. We've braved an hour ahead of curtain the miasma of converging streets to find The Vaudeville Theatre onStrand . We huff puff our way forward full of doubt and somewhere at St. Martins are nonplussed by the posted map. Bob asks a respectable looking Englishman whose confident directions send us back in the opposite and wrong directions. Another Englishman sends us back again and this time, correctly. Rushing nervously at last along the Strand we reach our theatrical destination surprisingly just in time.
Back home having had our hummus and falafel wraps and potato chips with white wine. We've braved an hour ahead of curtain the miasma of converging streets to find The Vaudeville Theatre on
THE LADY KILLERS. Vaudeville Theatre.
Sight gags, abetted by scenic contrivances make no-pain enjoyment of the story about 4 criminals plotting and carrying through a robbery as they masquerade as musicians in the home of a sweet old lady, all coming acroper. Not brilliant but after our race after some years through the still unfamiliar busy streets of the West End, relaxing. Compulsively I read the blurb signs as we wait under the protective canopy. "Stylish, witty and surprisingly funny." "Thought provoking, witty and deeply affecting." OK.
Originated atRoyal Court where we as Kensington residents saw a play by Timberlake Wertenbaker. "Our lives have been much enriched by her name," I say to Bob. The play was good too as we recall.
Sight gags, abetted by scenic contrivances make no-pain enjoyment of the story about 4 criminals plotting and carrying through a robbery as they masquerade as musicians in the home of a sweet old lady, all coming acroper. Not brilliant but after our race after some years through the still unfamiliar busy streets of the West End, relaxing. Compulsively I read the blurb signs as we wait under the protective canopy. "Stylish, witty and surprisingly funny." "Thought provoking, witty and deeply affecting." OK.
Originated at
DAY 10 FRIDAY SEPT 13
Hard to believe it's just the first full day in
Get up at 8:25 to find Bob deeply involved on iphone-istics and complaining that the wifi is intermitent. Actually sleep has been a little fitful inasmuch as our bed is not really comfy, a soft and saggy double. Bob lifts the blind on our picture window looking out at the top floor roofs, dormers and chimneys of very old (18th c.) buildings and the ever-changing street scene, now young workers scurrying, last night young Clubbers clubbing. Neat.
Plummy BBC talks of British government measures (5% yearly cap) to take the "froth" out of a rising housing market essentially to prevent an inflationary bubble. Fat chance doing that in the anti-socialist US . . . and just as well.
Interesting tone in morning news. The genial but serious newscouple are not giggling or making bonhomie jokes like their
Breakfasting Bob suggests "a bagel with peanut butter is a great idea" and though we have eggs in the fridge, I do feel
The pretty young girl and boy on our tour i.d.'s as from
Soho is a "fruity" (um yes) corner of
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| Mural of Soho luminaries |
We’re in Leister Fields (after Earl of Leister), that is now
The busts in the square are now gone. These included John Hunter, the 1st great surgeon (the others were barbers), Isaac Newton, Joshua Reynolds, and Wm. Hogarth.
Next we visit "Phony"
Reynolds and Johnson founded 1st club. A "clubable" gentleman was an old lush. (I’d guess Bob and Reuel are eminently “clubable”.)
Wong Kei restaurant is famous for its rude waiters.
St Anne's church by Wren. Destroyed in blitz. Hazlitts grave here. Provides an oasis in
Old
Gay bar Admiral Duncan's bombing. (We were in
The French House - home of Resistance. Arty.
Bar Italia where John Baird "invented" TV. In 1764 Mozart composed 1st symphony here.
Ronnie Scott's Jazz house. (Gorgeous young guy in our group doesn't know who Tony Bennett is. Shame.)
Expats settled here on
Foyles bookstore. Owner hired foreigners, many Greeks. Low wages. A customer asks, "Where is Ullyses?" "He's having lunch."
House of St. Barbara's got prostitutes off streets. The girls had to pledge allegiance to God. Penny chute for contributions.
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| Actually St. Barbara's I think |
Duke of Marlborough, Charles’s oldest bastard son, tries to capture the throne against James. Beheaded. Executioner Jack Ketch, "clubable", took 7 swings and missed. His assistant finished the job.
Hazlitt's house. He made many enemies. Died of too much tea drinking. Wrote: "With a little indulgence love can turn to indifference. Only hatred is immortal." (Only 2 mourners at his funeral; one was Charles Lamb).
Dog and Duck. Finest example of a small pub. Homemade beer.
Carl Marx lived here. 1854 writing Das Kapital but doesn't mention the cholera epidemic.
Crown and 2 Chairmen.(where we dined and drank earlier). Chairmen carried a sedan chair. Want a sedan chair? Then call "Chair Ho" (which then morphed into "cheerio").
John Meard houses. 1720s Jack employed the
Palladium - most famous theatre. It’s on the site of an 18th c circus.Excellent tour.
We regard the next door menu of Quo Vadis and find it odd and pricey so back home we go to choose a luncheon option from Bob's Time Out list.
Today's winner: Arbutis. Around the corner. Very stylish restaurant including chilly hostess. (Tho she smiles winningly when we leave. Bob opines that we didn't look like fashionable media types when we first entered in our dowdy rain jackets). Marble abounds. Artsy stream of consciousness writing on one marble wall, pin lighting, leather banquets. Skinny staff. And why are British servers French? Not complaining. Just ask ours to repeat ingredients of risotto which Bob orders with his "working lunch" mine will be "spit chicken" and scalloped potatoes (they call it somethong else). Both a treat.
Our soup Purée of pea, cream of pancetta with egg on top, beautifully presented. Brilliant. Our Artero Tempranillo red (a trip fave it would seem) is a cut above.
I try to get Bob to go to Tosca at the Soho Playhouse this weekend. He says we don't like opera. I say I could. Then why did you nap when we had subscriptions at the
Choice now is to take the
The Machine Still beeping and occasionally spinning, it's cocktail hour and farmhouse pâté with mushrooms is a lovely complement to cocktails.
Now lets play lets watch The Wash. Now lets play Lets Dry The Wash (over the bath).
We leave an hour early 1. Because we Can 2. there is a driving rain out and 3. Because We are not absolutely sure where Trafalgar Theatre is.
THE PRIDE. Trafalgar Studios #1. Originated at Royal Court where we as Kensington residents saw a play by Timberlake Wertenbaker. "Our lives have been much enriched by her name," I say to Bob. The play was good too as we recall.
Beautiful theatre space. It’s an old one subdivided. Great rake. 3/4 round. Effective simple set. Enormous framed antique mirror, a bar cabinet and two armchairs. We're at the aisle so we get up for passersby. One with his drink offers an understated "Thank you very much. Cheers." You gotta love it.
Bob "So self conscience and pretentious in a peculiar way." We both agree however that the play has interesting moments and extraordinary performances which prompts me to a disquisition on the discipline, training and flexibility of British acting as we rush through the pelting rain and attempt to avoid the lethal umbrellas of the massing crowds along our winding path fromTrafalgar Square through Soho . Nothing really new here but touching is the mostly gay audience's response- a standing ovation from the usually unemotive Brits? I say that 25 years ago when I was director of San Diego's gay theatre I would have engaged this play as I did with a British lesbian play "Coming Soon" (and sought to do when we first visited England for discussions with that play's author and with the "Red Rag" lesbian company). However this is 25 years later.
Essentially overwrought story with moments of good writing about older and contemporary eras in British life. In both there are tragic homosexuals, the earlier a married man who despite his wife's burgeoning awareness refuses to recognize his homosexual feelings especially for a "lonely" author (loneliness figures prominently in this evenings entertainment) and then a contemporary gay writer whose promiscuity as sexual addiction trips him up with the man he loves. At least in both eras the woman and her needs are fully realized. Too many ideas shouting in capital letters.
Post theatre home repast (we don't have drinks at the theatre as so many Brits do, enjoying also as they watch the play. We abstain. We are noble. Bob: Wensleydale cheese and chutney sandwich (not impressed) Reuel salmon and prawn sandwich (excellent and how could it not be?) plentiful red.
Our mortgage broker to our enquiry (it's been over a month!) "I'm waiting on the bank still. Sorry for the delay! Thanks again!" WTF. Grrr considering he said he'd have an answer before our holiday so we'd have no worries. Ha and ha. Well so there we are and we refuse to have worries.
We watch an English stand up comedian on Telly--we don't understand any of the punchlines which is hysterical in itself. The audience gets every unintelligible phrase and loves it.
We're actually sitting here about to watch a reality show called My Daughter the Teenage Nudist. We think it must be a mockumentary but nay it's real. Fascinating watching the ads as cultural commentary as ads surely are in theUS . I remember (that lethal word) 48 years ago thinking how primitive and naive British adverts were (TV was not in the picture so it was underground ads and such) compared to Mad Ave 's sophisticated products.
Bob "So self conscience and pretentious in a peculiar way." We both agree however that the play has interesting moments and extraordinary performances which prompts me to a disquisition on the discipline, training and flexibility of British acting as we rush through the pelting rain and attempt to avoid the lethal umbrellas of the massing crowds along our winding path from
Essentially overwrought story with moments of good writing about older and contemporary eras in British life. In both there are tragic homosexuals, the earlier a married man who despite his wife's burgeoning awareness refuses to recognize his homosexual feelings especially for a "lonely" author (loneliness figures prominently in this evenings entertainment) and then a contemporary gay writer whose promiscuity as sexual addiction trips him up with the man he loves. At least in both eras the woman and her needs are fully realized. Too many ideas shouting in capital letters.
Post theatre home repast (we don't have drinks at the theatre as so many Brits do, enjoying also as they watch the play. We abstain. We are noble. Bob: Wensleydale cheese and chutney sandwich (not impressed) Reuel salmon and prawn sandwich (excellent and how could it not be?) plentiful red.
Our mortgage broker to our enquiry (it's been over a month!) "I'm waiting on the bank still. Sorry for the delay! Thanks again!" WTF. Grrr considering he said he'd have an answer before our holiday so we'd have no worries. Ha and ha. Well so there we are and we refuse to have worries.
We watch an English stand up comedian on Telly--we don't understand any of the punchlines which is hysterical in itself. The audience gets every unintelligible phrase and loves it.
We're actually sitting here about to watch a reality show called My Daughter the Teenage Nudist. We think it must be a mockumentary but nay it's real. Fascinating watching the ads as cultural commentary as ads surely are in the
DAY 11 SATURDAY SEPT 14
"Another soggy day inLondon town" says Bob lifting the blinds on our Dean Street view. Grey but not raining yet. We certainly could have left our shorts home.
We spend inordinate time holding down the levers on the flat's malfunctioning toaster. There are flaws, um idiosyncrasies, in the flat including no cutting knives, that famous washer dryer which requires Bob to hang the wash over the bathroom tub, no tables--we use chairs--nor are there lamps, “practicals” in theatre parlance, though the flat has its charms, chief among them its location and it’s up to date, clean . . . and cute. That said, we've never had the “perfect” rental, just wonderful ones, no matter how much we've spent for them.
Lets try TKTS before heading through the incessant drizzle to the Foodies tour. Charming ticket seller for both matinee and evening shows-- they are here rather unlike TKTS Times Square’s purveyors. (I've got to stop doing this invidious comparison thing). We look up at the threatening skies. Foodies tour . . . nah. Substitute . . .
THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY, always wonderful, the worthies staring out at us. Dames Maggie Smith and Dench are striking.
Those British significants I don't know are also strikingly represented.
The 2013 award exhibit is especially fascinating offering so many different ways of capturing personalities. I especially like the portrait of roadhouse motorcycle club's members staring at the viewe in front of their clubhouse, some from atop their motorcycles,. Another black and white of 75 crowded Japanese waiting for the train was rendered, as these group portraits tend to be, in individual sittings.
At noon we're upstairs in one of our favoriteLondon restaurants the Gallery's (pricey) Portrait Restaurant where we cadge a window table overlooking . . .gray London . We can see the London Eye infinitetesamally moving (we've been), Big Ben atop the parliament, Westminster Abbey, Admiral Nelson's column in the foreground and . . . the rest of the city.
Our white is a surprisingly nice Casa Maria Verdejo. And we start with Bob’s ham, figs, goats cheese, rocket with balsamic vinegar dressing. I've the tomato soup which of course is quite good. Bob likes his chicken breast. I my bream, crispy. I like the bacon and red wine sauce and leek accompaniments, not terribly fond of the seaweed thing "naturally salty" our pretty and delightful server says. What is her accent? "Another soggy day in
We spend inordinate time holding down the levers on the flat's malfunctioning toaster. There are flaws, um idiosyncrasies, in the flat including no cutting knives, that famous washer dryer which requires Bob to hang the wash over the bathroom tub, no tables--we use chairs--nor are there lamps, “practicals” in theatre parlance, though the flat has its charms, chief among them its location and it’s up to date, clean . . . and cute. That said, we've never had the “perfect” rental, just wonderful ones, no matter how much we've spent for them.
Lets try TKTS before heading through the incessant drizzle to the Foodies tour. Charming ticket seller for both matinee and evening shows-- they are here rather unlike TKTS Times Square’s purveyors. (I've got to stop doing this invidious comparison thing). We look up at the threatening skies. Foodies tour . . . nah. Substitute . . .
THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY, always wonderful, the worthies staring out at us. Dames Maggie Smith and Dench are striking.
At noon we're upstairs in one of our favorite
We've timed it perfectly. Post luch we’ll "do" the final floor (1485-1714 Tudors and Stuarts, 1714-1837 Rebellion to Reform) before our trek to the Adelphi for our matinee. Love the Chevalier D'Eon, "Diplomat, Spy, Transvestite" (research his/her bio!).
TOP HAT. Aldwych.
Brilliantly executed, often enchanting, especially those Irving Berlin songs from the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers film on which this is based. Of course the plot is creaky but the lame jokes and obvious mistaken identity contrivances provide a pleasantly fustian atmosphere to the proceedings. The two matinee understudies for the female lead and 2nd male lead are both fine. We have great seats at a TKTS Discount, Row G center in the stalls. Lead actor has whitest teeth I've ever seen. A bit the aging juvenile with the typical reedy tenor voice, but with that toothy smile, fine dancing and sufficient panache he succeeds. Some of the secondaries offer bravura performances. Terrific precision, excellent ensemble, sumptuous sets and stage pictures capturing the feel of the era. Thoroughly enjoyed.
Looks like the rain has subsided for a while though it’s getting colder. We're warmed by inter-theatre martinis and pâté at home before readying for the play which will cap our evening.
A DOLL'S HOUSE. DUKE OF
We’re early at the theatre so we walk around St. Martins. Notice among the blurbs hanging from the canopy, "A once in a lifetime performance from Hattie Monahan." "They think her career is over then," remarks my smart alec sidekick.
Marvelous revolving set of Nora and Torvold Helmer's house. The claustraphobia works. But it’s nerve wracking watching Nora go mad. In past readings and productions I detested Torvald, the Macho husband, and Crogstadt as clearly the villain. Here at least after one hour forty minutes 1st act I find myself angry with Nora and sympathetic to Crogstadt's position. Hell threatened with losing your job and reputation, you'll fight to keep them.
It is difficult to stage the curtain reversals of the play that--Nora's conversion if you will from passive wife to rebel- caused such a commotion in its time and continues to permit contemporaries to revisit the play as a depiction of the locked roles of men and women. Neither Bob nor I think this production works in that regard. Too many inconsistencies, in particular in the performance of the leading lady. But it did get us thinking and talking as it has its audiences for over a hundred years.
After we have braved the famously scary crowds of hell-bent Saturday night young people--we note that we are probably the oldest creatures in a mile radius.
I read Gary Holt's jesting reminder that today is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, in response to a photo I sent him earlier today of the Gallery's portrait of Sarah Siddons (our private joke). I feel profoundly guilty to have forgotten and not commemorated the day in some way -- I always fast and think of my parents- and feel Bob is disappointed in me too. My only feeble out is that reveling in these feelings is right for this Day of Atonement. And though I can't reverse the eating and drinking that is producing obvious new levels of girth (my punishment), that we are floating around in time zones means I can . . . still think those thoughts.
I mustn't drown. I mustn't. Perhaps the depressive “A Doll's House” was a fitting coda to this day of days.
Marvelous revolving set of Nora and Torvold Helmer's house. The claustraphobia works. But it’s nerve wracking watching Nora go mad. In past readings and productions I detested Torvald, the Macho husband, and Crogstadt as clearly the villain. Here at least after one hour forty minutes 1st act I find myself angry with Nora and sympathetic to Crogstadt's position. Hell threatened with losing your job and reputation, you'll fight to keep them.
It is difficult to stage the curtain reversals of the play that--Nora's conversion if you will from passive wife to rebel- caused such a commotion in its time and continues to permit contemporaries to revisit the play as a depiction of the locked roles of men and women. Neither Bob nor I think this production works in that regard. Too many inconsistencies, in particular in the performance of the leading lady. But it did get us thinking and talking as it has its audiences for over a hundred years.
After we have braved the famously scary crowds of hell-bent Saturday night young people--we note that we are probably the oldest creatures in a mile radius.
I read Gary Holt's jesting reminder that today is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year, in response to a photo I sent him earlier today of the Gallery's portrait of Sarah Siddons (our private joke). I feel profoundly guilty to have forgotten and not commemorated the day in some way -- I always fast and think of my parents- and feel Bob is disappointed in me too. My only feeble out is that reveling in these feelings is right for this Day of Atonement. And though I can't reverse the eating and drinking that is producing obvious new levels of girth (my punishment), that we are floating around in time zones means I can . . . still think those thoughts.
I mustn't drown. I mustn't. Perhaps the depressive “A Doll's House” was a fitting coda to this day of days.
DAY 12 SUNDAY SEPT 15. LONDON .
We are up at 8. I express my guilt about Yom Kippur and he helps me through it with clever ripostes so I am ready to go forth and sin--I note that Yom Kippur will occur next Oct. 4. 2014 when we are back from our North European cruise so I have a whole year to think about it (I note that I think about my sins every day and “my dead” frequently anyway. Case closed--for now).
Besides the sun is shining brightly. Can't be gloomy. . . . until later today when the forecast says there's 100% chance of rain. That'll be after we see “Edward 2” which is itself a gloomy play -- especially from the homosexual perspective. Much to look forward to.
Breakfast at home. This time I make an egg with butter and humus and pepper seasoning. Actually lovely. With a poached salmon slice and cottage cheese. Bob his usual bagel with peanut butter.
Tip: head to the National Theatre complex first thing when visiting. When we pick up Edward 2 tickets for today's matinee we find that the acclaimed Othello is sold out. And their production of the contemporary One Master 2 Guvnors is on cast change hiatus until Sept 23. (We leave 22nd) You win some.
A chirpy lady volunteers to tell us where the cafes are and says that the National Theatre building couldn’t be built today because of all the levels inhibiting handicapped accessibility. Bob dubs the architecture “The New Brutality”. It is indeed bunker like.
As to THE LITTLETON CAFE (which is really a cafeteria in the lobby) we are very impressed. For 29 pounds(a third of our bill at the Portrait Gallery) we enjoy a lovely Thai vegetable package--it's wrapped in a big pastry bow--delicious with an excellent al dente broccoli salad, accompanied by a glass of red wine and a chocolate torte (one we share, the other's for home) rich and yummy. Lord Olivier wouldn’t grimace.
Actually the theatre he founded has done 800 productions since it opened 50 years ago and offers a varied menu of performances in its many venues. We particularly remember a marvelous Jerry Springer, The Opera here. Also a well produced but less successful Kurt Weill musical (we try to remember its name. Finally I say there's a Lady in the title. Bob supplies Lady In the Dark. Takes 2 big 1/2 brains to make one great brain!) Probably saw a Shakespeare here--can't remember. Good thing there are all those Travel Boxes of British programs stored deeply, very deeply, away in the bowels of
We have some time so we step onto a terrace with a magnificent sweeping view over the
MATINEE. EDWARD 2.
Excellent seats. We are overhearers of 3 young Guys seating next to us who are Americans one who is a former Rhodes scholar at
Another long first act and Bob who was closer to the young worthies fills me in. The aging Rhodes scholar, a professed “’consultant dramaturg’ . . . is without a job". We know this situation well.
Of the play, "It certainly brings Marlowe to life." I hear one woman saying " the grandeur is gone." Give me a modern, exciting fresh interpretation any day. It moves. its vibrant this tale of Edward 2 too much in thrall to his gay friends. Actually nobody's free of guile, the sycophants and the Earls who will undo him. But in this kinetic version of what could be turgidity is sound and energy. Here videotaped action works too . And again these actors so well trained can do anything. "Puts," Bob sayeth, "our Old Globe to shame."
However after a delightful intermission out on that view terrace I engage the neighbor English lady as to how she likes the play. Not shy she. "I hate it! It's rubbish! Rubbish!" I admit overhearing her saying that it wasn't staged classically. She expatiates that its a hodgepodge, has no clear vision. And Marlowe is no Shakespeare, he’s a hack. (Well maybe.) I say comically, "we were (emphasis on were) liking it.” Husband drolly. "Are you going to ask us to leave now." "Not till the end" (which I explain at the curtain--it's the end and we all can leave)." On hearing we spent a week in
As to
Still think there was (ok she has some points) an artistry in the directorial decisions in presenting a play at whose heart is a boringly intense idee fixe. Yeah I love Gaveston (Edward's lover) too. Get on with it.
Actually double casting the actor who plays Gaveston as the hired killer of Edward 2 is brilliant, especially the staging of the killing as a kind of tender execution and then killing the executioner in Edward's arms. And in keeping the American accent (read crude) for both characters although the actor is very Brit and (as is John Heffernan as Edward,) brilliant.
"Clearly it's raining outside" Bob. We make it through nicely scant drizzle over Waterloo Bridge into Coventry Gardens where we hear an opera singer warbling for coins and see a (another) busker juggling and jiggling the pockets of onlookers.
And home to safety from the weather with of course martinis and that great pâté. Can we clone it at Vons? Not likely. And watching . . . the weather in comfort.
We feel pleased despite experiencing only one major event today, the Edward 2 play at The National (with a neat lunch and actual interaction with audience members there not to forget). We note that Sunday is the sparse theatre day inLondon .
Quarter Stilton and beef sandwiches with wine are delightful as we watch the British food network.
Inspector Lewis solving mysterues in"our"Oxford and then, accidentally, King Kong! the original. Apparently there's more than BBC on Brit TV.
And home to safety from the weather with of course martinis and that great pâté. Can we clone it at Vons? Not likely. And watching . . . the weather in comfort.
We feel pleased despite experiencing only one major event today, the Edward 2 play at The National (with a neat lunch and actual interaction with audience members there not to forget). We note that Sunday is the sparse theatre day in
Quarter Stilton and beef sandwiches with wine are delightful as we watch the British food network.
Inspector Lewis solving mysterues in"our"
DAY 13. MONDAY SEPT 16.
We're out at 11:15 AM, slow risers, only to discover we need to go back for another layer in today’s chilly albeit blessedly sunny weather.
We stop off at Fortnum and Masons this year not to spend $100 on their champagne tea but to see the newly refurbished store and touch (Reuel) the expensive things in theFood Court .
Then back to deposit our purchase of Londonsnow globes (3 Pds apiece).
And the pleasant surprise at our local (block away) French restaurant, Pierre Victoire. The set for 9.95. Pds. Bob- grilled asparagus tips wrapped in ham with sauce. Very good. "The asparagus lovely". Reuel's mussels in the manner of escargot is terrific. (I get 12 little ones). I whine that "if only" our local Frenchy at 5th and Robinson were this good. Bob: "They're closer toFrance here."
Table of "young media types" arrives. I say to Bob. "At this time in our lives we can be surrounded by young people. We enjoy looking at them. And we're invisible. That's absolutely fine with me. I don't need to be visible to them."
Our Main, strongonoff, with pickles (it'sLondon ) and potato-ey fries is Very Good. It's what a country French restaurant should be (in the heart of Soho, London that is).
Home and we watch from our window a sudden deluge (pack theArk ) and two minutes later the sun is out. No wonder the Brits leave their homes with “brolie” in tow every day no matter what.
We see brolied passersby - intermittent rain -- and the restaurant filling up at 1:15 "Good we're hungry earlier," Bob.
PICADILLY TOUR. Good start when our guide, Richard (a popular London Walks guide name), says we don't look it when we ask for our 65+ "concessions". He tells us that he spent two years inSan Diego and sailed the world.
We're out at 11:15 AM, slow risers, only to discover we need to go back for another layer in today’s chilly albeit blessedly sunny weather.
We stop off at Fortnum and Masons this year not to spend $100 on their champagne tea but to see the newly refurbished store and touch (Reuel) the expensive things in the
And the pleasant surprise at our local (block away) French restaurant, Pierre Victoire. The set for 9.95. Pds. Bob- grilled asparagus tips wrapped in ham with sauce. Very good. "The asparagus lovely". Reuel's mussels in the manner of escargot is terrific. (I get 12 little ones). I whine that "if only" our local Frenchy at 5th and Robinson were this good. Bob: "They're closer to
Table of "young media types" arrives. I say to Bob. "At this time in our lives we can be surrounded by young people. We enjoy looking at them. And we're invisible. That's absolutely fine with me. I don't need to be visible to them."
Our Main, strongonoff, with pickles (it's
Home and we watch from our window a sudden deluge (pack the
We see brolied passersby - intermittent rain -- and the restaurant filling up at 1:15 "Good we're hungry earlier," Bob.
PICADILLY TOUR. Good start when our guide, Richard (a popular London Walks guide name), says we don't look it when we ask for our 65+ "concessions". He tells us that he spent two years in
Of statue Eros where we meet it is Shaftsbury’s statue. (OK, there’s some repetitive info on these tours.) Actually AntiEros. 1st aluminum statue.
It's raining and he says just the way you imaginedLondon
Richard's an actor who for 30 years barely made a living then discovered the tours gig six years ago. Picadils we're collars made by a wealthy tailor who moved here. At that time there were open fields. The City ofLondon Mayfair . They were ok with the idea that the winds blew east onto poor people. 1st shopping center in London
Theatre Royal Haymarket 3rd oldest (another Nash masterpiece). 1st matinee there. Owner Samuel Foote needed a License to do straight plays because Fielding satirized Walpoole there. Then the theatre manager broke a leg on the Duke ofYork
Another theatre superstition: Don't whistle. Sailors operated sets with ropes and signaled with whistles. Whistle and the set might fall on you.
Also: Don't mention the Scottish play. Because if a play was a flop, then the theatre would need to do Macbeth, a guaranteed success.
2nd oldest Her Majesty's. (Queens Theatre) Became Kings Theatre untilVictoria
Beerbohm Tree foundedRoyal Academy
Interregnum (closed pubs and theatres) between Charles and the next king Chas 2 1661. Henry Jermyn was rewarded all of this land. Charles played Pall Mall inFrance
Men's club anecdote about single men and members wives. (Allowed only to entertain the wives of members.)St James Square
Nancy Astor 1st woman to sit in Parliamrnt in 1919 had arguments with Churchill. "If you were my husband I'd put poison in your tea." "Madam if you were my wife, I'd drink it."
Floris scent shop. Mahogany display cabinets. The 19th century arcades safer (beagles at each end) and dryer for the rich to shop. Hatchards booksellers.
The townhouses of rich torn down after WW1. Rich moved away. But Burlinton house, nowAcademy of Art
We're inMayfair near Saville Row. Bespoke Suit $$$. 3 Saville Row is Beatles recording studio. Tailors on block don't want Abercrombie and Fitch there. Royal Arcade . Oscar Wilde shopped for his green carnations there. (What would we do without tourist anecdotes?)
THE SAME DEEP WATER AS ME. Nick Payne. DONMAR.
Though I ordered seats far in advance, we are at the top end of the row dizzyingly (well not exactly--we know this small theatre well) above the set consisting of two desks. Not comfortable seats, rank with those of Trafalgar Studio's Pride. Stiff Upper Back (and lip).
At intermission Reuel, "I didn't know we'd be seeing a play in Croation this evening." Actually I thought this production about attorneys involved in the no-win-no-pay insurance scam would have a nice indigenous feel about it in contrast to what we've been seeing. But the dialect is nigh impenetrable.
2nd Act is the trial. So glad that Bob rushed to get us 250ml glasses of “plonk” chardonnay at intermission in the Circle Bar which transferred from glass to a container that can be taken to one’s perch at the top of the Donmar so as to suffer the proceedings with a little succor.
The trial in which the fraud is tested has its amusements but the relationships are just not clarified and the denouement where the young lawyer expresses his love for the wife of the friend who drew him into this auto injury fraud is without a basis in any established reality. We hope this playwright who got last year's Olivier will find his compass. Hey we're not foodies here, we're Showies, and some play dishes we taste are less palatable than others. This one needs more time in the oven.It's raining and he says just the way you imagined
Richard's an actor who for 30 years barely made a living then discovered the tours gig six years ago. Picadils we're collars made by a wealthy tailor who moved here. At that time there were open fields. The City of
Theatre Royal Haymarket 3rd oldest (another Nash masterpiece). 1st matinee there. Owner Samuel Foote needed a License to do straight plays because Fielding satirized Walpoole there. Then the theatre manager broke a leg on the Duke of
Another theatre superstition: Don't whistle. Sailors operated sets with ropes and signaled with whistles. Whistle and the set might fall on you.
Also: Don't mention the Scottish play. Because if a play was a flop, then the theatre would need to do Macbeth, a guaranteed success.
2nd oldest Her Majesty's. (Queens Theatre) Became Kings Theatre until
Beerbohm Tree founded
Interregnum (closed pubs and theatres) between Charles and the next king Chas 2 1661. Henry Jermyn was rewarded all of this land. Charles played Pall Mall in
Men's club anecdote about single men and members wives. (Allowed only to entertain the wives of members.)
Nancy Astor 1st woman to sit in Parliamrnt in 1919 had arguments with Churchill. "If you were my husband I'd put poison in your tea." "Madam if you were my wife, I'd drink it."
Floris scent shop. Mahogany display cabinets. The 19th century arcades safer (beagles at each end) and dryer for the rich to shop. Hatchards booksellers.
The townhouses of rich torn down after WW1. Rich moved away. But Burlinton house, now
We're in
THE SAME DEEP WATER AS ME. Nick Payne. DONMAR.
Though I ordered seats far in advance, we are at the top end of the row dizzyingly (well not exactly--we know this small theatre well) above the set consisting of two desks. Not comfortable seats, rank with those of Trafalgar Studio's Pride. Stiff Upper Back (and lip).
At intermission Reuel, "I didn't know we'd be seeing a play in Croation this evening." Actually I thought this production about attorneys involved in the no-win-no-pay insurance scam would have a nice indigenous feel about it in contrast to what we've been seeing. But the dialect is nigh impenetrable.
2nd Act is the trial. So glad that Bob rushed to get us 250ml glasses of “plonk” chardonnay at intermission in the Circle Bar which transferred from glass to a container that can be taken to one’s perch at the top of the Donmar so as to suffer the proceedings with a little succor.
 |
| Hello young lovers . . . |
Observing Brit news it is clear despite flaws in its system, the government is grappling with its public's issues so unlike what is going on in the
DAY 14 TUES SEPT 17
How nice to have the leisure to make eggs in the morning and with humus, butter, milk and pepper -- delish.
We buy Matilda tickets for Thursday AM.
London Walk,Covent Garden area. We wait at the Covent Garden underground for our London walks BEHIND CLOSED DOORS tour guide to suddenly arise out of the ether as 10:30 approaches. It's Brian.
1906 underground. Saxons settled Londonwick. The “wick” means its anglo Saxon. King Alfred renamed it Londonburg. Then Edwardsburg.
Benedictine monks, wealthy, had a convent garden. Henry took it over, keptHyde Park and sold the rest to the Russell family.
Henry, huge, exploded at his funeral. Dog ate part of him then he was buried with Jane Seymour who also blew up (not embalmed). Interesting start to the tour.
Covent Garden piazza designed by Inigo Jones who studied with Palladio.
Built charch like barn--St. John's
By 1720: gambling. By 1750: prostitutes. Russell family in order to stamp out immorality built fruit and vegetable market (til 1970). Shops, Street entertainers. Opera singers too.Covent Garden opera refurbished in 1940.
Russells are the Dukes ofBedford
Royal Opera. Theatre here sinceSheridan
Handel performed here. King stood at Halelujah chorus. Since then everyone stood.
19th century the royal Opera is associated with Italian opera. Later with Sadlers Wells.
Beecham conductor. Wealthy. Told orchestra there are 2 rules: begin and end together. Audience doesn't care what happens in between.
Upstairs view.London 
(Another Sprinting Tour. Keep up!)
Bob Field set up the police code. (Bobby's men. Hence we call them Bobbies.)
Next Theatre Royal Drury Lane
Easter, carpenters guild associated with wood and nails. Xmas, goldworkers.Theatre related 1st to church. Masters of guilds put on plays. Hence Mystery Plays.
Vacuum until there was secular theatre outside the center ofLondon
Shakespeare co owner w Burbage (when buried his stone read: "Exit Burbage").
Puritans took over theatre & stopped it (plague is excuse) 1644.
1660 Chas 2 (fromFrance
This theatre dates from 1812.
Sheraton owned theatre. When burned down he was found drinking across the street. "Shouldn't a gent have a drink by his own fireside." (Keep those jokes coming!)
LSE London School
The Old Curiosity Shop bldg. Dickens was a social reformer. Didn't approve of public executions. 8 executed bodies a year for dissection. "The Resurrections" dig up bodies. Surgeons purchased them. Safeguards. Putrefaction societies for iron coffins. Parliament said destitute dead could go to anatomy schools.
Surgery performed first by the clergy, then by hairdressers. Bled patients. 18th c enlightenment. Wm. & John Hunter. 1800Royal College
John donated to the royal collection. Now 40,000 specimens. Bomb destroyed much of it.
We enter.
Harvey
Fascinating- John Hunter dropped out ofOxford Leister Square Waterloo America Victoria
saving thousands of lives. This is a great collection of medical arcana.
St. Clements Danes church. WW2 allied forces rebuilt it. Some Bomb damage left deliberately.
Royal Courts built to look like a cathedral. Massive. Inside the gorgeous cathedral-like hall, Brian--former solicitor-- offers a quick course in British court hierarchy (ribbon bound documents led to "red tape") and lets us on our merry ways.
How nice to have the leisure to make eggs in the morning and with humus, butter, milk and pepper -- delish.
We buy Matilda tickets for Thursday AM.
London Walk,
1906 underground. Saxons settled Londonwick. The “wick” means its anglo Saxon. King Alfred renamed it Londonburg. Then Edwardsburg.
Benedictine monks, wealthy, had a convent garden. Henry took it over, kept
Henry, huge, exploded at his funeral. Dog ate part of him then he was buried with Jane Seymour who also blew up (not embalmed). Interesting start to the tour.
Built charch like barn--
By 1720: gambling. By 1750: prostitutes. Russell family in order to stamp out immorality built fruit and vegetable market (til 1970). Shops, Street entertainers. Opera singers too.
Russells are the Dukes of
Royal Opera. Theatre here since
Handel performed here. King stood at Halelujah chorus. Since then everyone stood.
19th century the royal Opera is associated with Italian opera. Later with Sadlers Wells.
Beecham conductor. Wealthy. Told orchestra there are 2 rules: begin and end together. Audience doesn't care what happens in between.
Upstairs view.
(Another Sprinting Tour. Keep up!)
Bob Field set up the police code. (Bobby's men. Hence we call them Bobbies.)
Easter, carpenters guild associated with wood and nails. Xmas, goldworkers.Theatre related 1st to church. Masters of guilds put on plays. Hence Mystery Plays.
Vacuum until there was secular theatre outside the center of
Shakespeare co owner w Burbage (when buried his stone read: "Exit Burbage").
Puritans took over theatre & stopped it (plague is excuse) 1644.
1660 Chas 2 (from
This theatre dates from 1812.
Sheraton owned theatre. When burned down he was found drinking across the street. "Shouldn't a gent have a drink by his own fireside." (Keep those jokes coming!)
The Old Curiosity Shop bldg. Dickens was a social reformer. Didn't approve of public executions. 8 executed bodies a year for dissection. "The Resurrections" dig up bodies. Surgeons purchased them. Safeguards. Putrefaction societies for iron coffins. Parliament said destitute dead could go to anatomy schools.
Surgery performed first by the clergy, then by hairdressers. Bled patients. 18th c enlightenment. Wm. & John Hunter. 1800
John donated to the royal collection. Now 40,000 specimens. Bomb destroyed much of it.
We enter.
Fascinating- John Hunter dropped out of
saving thousands of lives. This is a great collection of medical arcana.
St. Clements Danes church. WW2 allied forces rebuilt it. Some Bomb damage left deliberately.
Royal Courts built to look like a cathedral. Massive. Inside the gorgeous cathedral-like hall, Brian--former solicitor-- offers a quick course in British court hierarchy (ribbon bound documents led to "red tape") and lets us on our merry ways.
Bob and I pop into the Lord Judge's chamber for a fascinating glimpse--3 bewigged magistrates including The Lord (who clearly was flown in direct from central casting) hearing the state's prosecutor and then cynically questioning him as plaintiff; defendant accused of selling fake immigrant permissions, as far as we can interpret, sits justifiably worried in the docks.
Lunch at PORTERS off Bedford , probably a chain which trades on its Englishness. Consequently Bob, steak and cheddar pie (he very liked as well as the mashed potatoes) and Reuel steak and kidney pudding (not fond of the kidney taste but good to experience--don't need to have it multiple times) with a bottle of Merlot. We're happy to be sitting away from the rain which pelted us once we left the Royal Courts. $81.
SPAMALOT. PLAYHOUSE THEATRE.
It's silly and it's fun and you'd want to see this show in
Intermission is as much fun watching bartender delivering his selection of drinks as if he's a Monty Python character reaching the balcony with his dry delivery. Mordant and unmoved are his small audience of imbibers.
Love that Lancelot is gay gay gay. At curtain audience joins in singing "Always look on the bright side of life" the only really tuneful song in the show and it is amusing to hear the British pronunciation in unison.
Bob: "It really captured the zaniness of Monty Python at its height. I enjoyed it. I really did."
This evening's in-house sandwich is egg salad. The wine is red.
DAY 15. WEDNESDAY SEPT 18.
Oh unadulterated joy. A Jerry Springer style show on the telly. Lovely view of British lower classes in distress. Who trashed her baby's grave? Was it her hated smutty sister in law? Who is the real father of this young man who hates the mother who abused and abandoned him? Not the guy he hoped. He's bereft and adrift. Delicious.
Enough inside. We decide to go shopping. Or at least looking alongOxford St. 1st stop Selfridges. Great emporium. Looks like a sheathed Parthenon.
I like a jacket. Oops. It's a thousand dollars. Oof. A sneaker-like shoe $350. Lets get otta here.
Marks andSparks (Spencer) is where we belong and where Bob buys a lightweight dark blue sweater and Reuel a pack of 7 solid bright colored socks (heaven).
Bob: "It really captured the zaniness of Monty Python at its height. I enjoyed it. I really did."
This evening's in-house sandwich is egg salad. The wine is red.
DAY 15. WEDNESDAY SEPT 18.
Oh unadulterated joy. A Jerry Springer style show on the telly. Lovely view of British lower classes in distress. Who trashed her baby's grave? Was it her hated smutty sister in law? Who is the real father of this young man who hates the mother who abused and abandoned him? Not the guy he hoped. He's bereft and adrift. Delicious.
Enough inside. We decide to go shopping. Or at least looking along
Marks and
Back to our favorite neighborhood restaurant, PIERRE VICTOIRE. This time only a carafe of red (a workable malbec) with our starters, Reuel French onion, very good, ("doesn't have that hateful cheese topping", Bob, ) main Papadelle pasta (wonderful gorgazola sauce with spinach and mushrooms); Bob zucchini cakes (brilliant; "this place is a find" Reuel) and main Sautéed chicken salad (excellent; included tiny potatoes, carrots, tomatoes sun dried too and fresh balsamic dressing "like a nisoise but chicken instead", Bob) Total 37.63 pounds. = $59.90
CHIMERICA. Lucy Kirkwood. HAROLD PINTER THEATRE.
We have yet to see a production in
Brr. Not raining as we head back home but it's cold. The weather just has not been kind here. Martinis and appetizers of pâté for Bob and sushi for Reuel, who calling the National which is in this instance producing at the Apollo, cadges the last 2 stall tickets for the hot play hit "The Dog Who ... On the Night" for tomorrow afternoon. Our theatrical calendar is certainly filling up.
our guide of yesterday --
Blomondisbury according to the 11th c. Survey. Wm Conquerer Doomsday Survey. Heavy wooding. Fat pigs. High Holborn. “Born” means river.
Lincoln St. ) area - kept pigs out. We're in Camden
Bountiful Cow pub offers "free lunch" with drink.
Residential Russell square. John Harrison invented marine chronometer - longitude. Chris advises us to read the book Longitude. Red Lion Sq., a hotbead of communism. Mayday March. Bertrand Russell bust here. He a member ofBedford Bedford
Omega workshop – Wm. Morris produced works here -- fed up with mass production -- socialists. Started Society for preservation of ancient buildings.
Conway
Chair carriers demonstrated in the square against inventor of umbrella.
TheBedfords
We stop in a place that offers us free things grown on the roofs in the neighborhood. A strange alcoholic drink. H’ors deuvres. Sustainable Rooftops. Reminds me of the hydroponic gardens on the roof of the WIND building where I administered training programs inBedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn . I recall it was a great idea, but a big bust. (A lot of that going around.)
Great James St. Always can find free things. Art parties. (And our guide ducks into one for a quick free drink. Da noive.
Built area 18th c. Nice door cases.
Dorothy Sayers lived here. (R &B are apparently stalking her residences fromOxford to Bloomsbury .) Quirky works. Peter Wimsey.
Of theosophists Jeremy Benthem foundedUniversity of London
Virginia Woolf. Worked here setting up her printing press.
RUGBY TAVERN.
Bountiful Cow pub offers "free lunch" with drink.
Residential Russell square. John Harrison invented marine chronometer - longitude. Chris advises us to read the book Longitude. Red Lion Sq., a hotbead of communism. Mayday March. Bertrand Russell bust here. He a member of
Omega workshop – Wm. Morris produced works here -- fed up with mass production -- socialists. Started Society for preservation of ancient buildings.
Chair carriers demonstrated in the square against inventor of umbrella.
The
We stop in a place that offers us free things grown on the roofs in the neighborhood. A strange alcoholic drink. H’ors deuvres. Sustainable Rooftops. Reminds me of the hydroponic gardens on the roof of the WIND building where I administered training programs in
Great James St. Always can find free things. Art parties. (And our guide ducks into one for a quick free drink. Da noive.
Built area 18th c. Nice door cases.
Dorothy Sayers lived here. (R &B are apparently stalking her residences from
Of theosophists Jeremy Benthem founded
Virginia Woolf. Worked here setting up her printing press.
As in Rugby school. Here we have 1/2 pints (a half please) of Spitfire Kentish Ale. Bob thinks he needs more flavour in his ales, but we admit we don't know ales.
Lambs
People's supermarket. Volunteers get 10% off.
Great Ormand St. Hospital. Children. Separate conjoined twins, bomb victims, trauma. Barry's Peter Pan supports it.
The Lamb club. “Snob screens".
Thomas Coram's fields. Built foundling hospital here. Hogarth helped fund it. People paid to see his art. 1st gallery. People paid to hear Handel concerts there. 2nd performance of Hallelujah Chorus was held here. Coram Boy.
TS Eliot was editor for Faber and Faber. V. Wolfe encouraged him to publish. Bloomsbury Group quite disparate. She published E.M. Foster, Katherine Masefield, Strachey, Keynes. All were "sexually dodgy". (She criticizes Mrs. Dallaway's stream of consciousness. "Sorry I shouldn't be getting into lit criticism as a pathetic guide.")
Queens Larder pub. Queen Charlotte brought George here. Queen smuggled food banned to king.
Mary Ward Victorian novelist and socialist reformer. Believed Children should be able to play and that the disabled should mingle with abled. But anti-feminist at first regarding women's votes. Changed mind.
Tour over and not wishing to proceed to any more pubs we ask Chris directions to Soho whereapon she says "Living in
DAY 16 SEPT 19 THURSDAY
Well it must be said we get enough sleep in
Sleep was not uninterrupted of course and during one waking hiatus I read an online NYT article about Gilbert (eat, pray,love) who attributes her success as a writer to the discipline her parents taught her and I recall brother Arther saying that we (albeit both Ph.D's) would have succeeded better at school if our parents taught us habits of discipline more (though "the fault dear Brutus is not in our stars . . .") But if I'm not spitting out crisp musical plays by the dozen, Bob and I at least are disciplined travelers, knocking down those touristic pins with athletic consistency.
On our late morning jaunt we look at menus of enticing little restaurants and stop into an arty T-shirt store but at 40 Pds the shirt Bob says “It'll be a cold day in hell”. Then costumed ghouls jump out at us from doorways. “Boo!” Bob thinks they are filming people's reactions. The girl ghoul finds us—our reaction--very funny. Pass by famous Beals Yard cheese.
Buskers of course in Covent Garden (also pausing to watch hot young people in the Reebox fitness demo)
Returning to
Lunch is at MAISON TOUARIG, Moroccan and Lebanese Restaurant and Bar. At 12:15 we're the 1st in just as it starts raining. (No Surprise.) Seems lunch starts late. Bob says damn in a few days well be back to a lunch cup of soup and a half sandwich. . . . I really do like our location, best we've had except for the
Oh, our food. We share a falafel plate and a Lebanese salad for starters. Bob "good choice. I'm enjoying my food." At 12:45 another patron comes in. I ask the server if we're hearing Lebanese music. It's Spanish Nights he says.
Bob's cous cous and my chicken shawarma are both fabulous (we do co-op tastings so the verdict is verified).
Bob challenges "It better be a damn good play after this." I suppose the large portions and the large vino are prescriptions for nap – I too hope naptime won't arrive prematurely.
THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT. APOLLO THEATRE. 2:30.
Produced by The National Theatre we look forward to this play even though the ostensible subject matter, autism, is not immediately our draw. It's the reviews which are gushing, it's provenance (National Theatre) and that but for a Thursday matinee the fact that it's sold out - we get the last 2 stall seats (full price) that are not outrageous premium priced. TIP: Purchasing National Theatre (as this is their production) tickets telephonically works.
Waiting under the canopy in the drizzle, we see massive groups of school kids being herded by their teachers very politely. Reminds Bob of time we accompanied his freshman class to a New York production of The Three Sisters, "It was awful" (not of the production but the students’ behavior). And the great John Houseman understandably grouchily held the show for our tardy unruly charges.
Beautiful theatre, the Apollo. Youngsters pass to their seats. "Thank you. Cheers."
How will these kids respond to this play about a 15 year old with autism? Answer: Embarrassingly well. It's I who behave badly by taking photos during the performance with my iPhone which I'm sure all those children have been forbidden to do. (Incidentally NYT informs me new 5S coming out and I must have it to take better illicit photos in theaters). However, from the oohs and ahs when the estranged dad brings out a puppy to entice his autistic son at play's end and the exclusively puppy-centric chatter from the exiting kids suggests they may have gotten a different take on the play than we did. It is quite absorbing through the boy Christopher's travails as he determines that he must leave his loving dad and find his somewhat feckless mother in London before he takes and passes his math A levels. The excellence is mostly due to remarkably disciplined stage effects and also again the remarkable acting. Bob asks me if I'm reminded of my time ministering to "exceptional children". Yes.
Home, the martini is dry even if the weather isn’t. Weather reporter confesses that it’s always raining in the West. Appears it usually rains here in the East of England too.
MATILDA THE MUSICAL. CAMBRIDGE THEATRE.
Hiding from the nasty drizzle under the Cambridge Theatre canopy we are aware of the gangs of chidren being assembled; again great gobs of kids in the audience, this time attached to parents (as I write this a school comes in). I say it's good that they are being introduced to the theatre though they probably see lots of theatre in this cultural environment.
It's the intermission that the real entertainment occurs. The march of little boys to the loo (we are having drinks at the interval because as with the Donmar play, this ones a dog--what! you say? Yes we Hate Matilda. It's puerile. We're just not especially interested in anything with villains and hero's. Clearly we are heroes so we seek moral shading in our entertainment. This is an interpretation of Roald Dahl's children's book. The music/lyrics are banal; moppets dancing are disgusting; ok we can endure. But the star, the man as headmistress is paint by numbers boffo--not as special as the Tony nomination which it garnered.
Oy. The caramel dessert--and we are not dessert people--is sublime at home. For me the other half of salmon & cucumber. Bob's cheese and onion. White wine. We listen to a program about Louis 14 and about the the astronomical explorations he initiated and feel a little less dirty for having seen Matilda the Musical.
I watch the TV reflected in the window. Ok.
Home, the martini is dry even if the weather isn’t. Weather reporter confesses that it’s always raining in the West. Appears it usually rains here in the East of England too.
MATILDA THE MUSICAL. CAMBRIDGE THEATRE.
Hiding from the nasty drizzle under the Cambridge Theatre canopy we are aware of the gangs of chidren being assembled; again great gobs of kids in the audience, this time attached to parents (as I write this a school comes in). I say it's good that they are being introduced to the theatre though they probably see lots of theatre in this cultural environment.
It's the intermission that the real entertainment occurs. The march of little boys to the loo (we are having drinks at the interval because as with the Donmar play, this ones a dog--what! you say? Yes we Hate Matilda. It's puerile. We're just not especially interested in anything with villains and hero's. Clearly we are heroes so we seek moral shading in our entertainment. This is an interpretation of Roald Dahl's children's book. The music/lyrics are banal; moppets dancing are disgusting; ok we can endure. But the star, the man as headmistress is paint by numbers boffo--not as special as the Tony nomination which it garnered.
Oy. The caramel dessert--and we are not dessert people--is sublime at home. For me the other half of salmon & cucumber. Bob's cheese and onion. White wine. We listen to a program about Louis 14 and about the the astronomical explorations he initiated and feel a little less dirty for having seen Matilda the Musical.
I watch the TV reflected in the window. Ok.
DAY 17. FRIDAY SEPT 20
A rainless though chilly day is promised so we resolve to essay the British museum, a long walk to a Very Big museum, and this being a non-matinee day.
First task is final ticket gathering: Tkts for Irresistable Rise and then toSt. Martin In the Crypt
for tickets to tomorrow's Requiem and Handel. Reuel. "A perfect ending to our holiday." Bob "A requiem?" "Um. The Handel part."
On our walk I say "I'm glad we included a concert. It's like opposite of me with fish. I always think I adore fish then find the taste unexciting. I often have doubts about concerts and then find that I love them."
Incredible is theBritish Museum
(Free) Tour of Ancient Greek sculptures: She's charming Barbara Whitten. Joined at first by a teacher and her very well-behaved school group.
Eastern meditteranean is Turkey,Middle East , Egypt Greece
than neighbors. Lost palace culture. Took 4 centuries to come out of the dark age. Greece Graves . Called Etruscan pots although not from Etruscan; there's Greek writing on them. Narrative pottery. Here Gods and goddesses are at a wedding party. Thetis was tricked into the marriage because it was prophesied that her son would be greater than his father. Dips son and thus creates his Achilles heel. Eres was not invited and thus started the Trojan War.
The Amphora. Shows Achilles falling in love with an "uncivilized" woman. Black figure ware against fine terra cotta.
Tomb statue. Supposed to look at front. The Khoros figure is associated with graveyards and temples. Unrealistic. Inverted "V" diaphragm. 550bc.
In 500 BC Greeks start reversing black dinner ware. Greater realism.
This Khoros more realistic. Ultimately they will attempt movement in their work.
490 1st Persian invasion of Greeks. Defeated atMarathon . 10 yrs later destroy Athenian temples at Acropolis.
450 BC Pericles. Peace. $ used to fight Persians used for temples. Built bigger temples to Athena who helped them win the war.
3 main decorative elements. Parthanon Frieze . Woven robe given to Athena every 3 years shows great Panathena procession. This Huge gallery shows half of frieze.
Now pediment. Zeus swallows Metis and later his head breaks open and out steps fully dressed Athena.
Horses are rendered realistically. Women still clothed.
The Lykiam tomb was actually inTurkey
Caryatids support the roof of the porch. Figure both sculptural and functional. Goes back to Khorus figure. Linen folds of her dress are repeated in columns.
WhenGreece
The oversized figures are Naread monuments. The Mausoleum at Halikarnassos. In Bodrum today see bits of the mausoleum in buildings.
The Amazon frieze. Can see traces of paint. This is proof that everything was painted in AncientGreece
HellenisticGreece like Ancient Greece
Next tour. Enlightenment Gallery.
Guide Mandy. Period 1680-1820. The long 18th c. People starting to question their beliefs. Before this everyone went to church. George 3 lost the Americas
Geo 4th was a bit of party boy. Gave dad's books toBritish Museum
Sir Hand Sloane. Doctor to Queen Ann and 2 successors. His collection 80,000 objects. 65,000 books. Beginning ofBritish Museum
Cabinet of curiosities. Natural things. Adding to nature. Drawings by Lady Maria Merrian in Guana proved insects didn't arise from mud.
His (Sloane’s) medicine case. Skull with moss on it for treating drukedness. Collected over 800 species of plants. His friend John Ray catalogued s these & all living creatures. His books. Wrote Disclaimer: Don’t read unless very interested because it’s difficult. Carl Milleas. Taxonomist. Highly regarded. Brits started using his system.
Joseph Banks botanist. Sponsored Capt. Cook’s voyage.
His friend Mary Delaney discovered art in her late 70's, huge collection of her botanical mosaics.
Sloane brought cacao fromJamaica
James Usher said Oct 28 4000 BC was date of creation. But discovery of fossils. Given religious significance. Ammonites St Hilda's snakes (she turned them into stone.)
Sloane said earth older. Hand axes. 400,000 years old. Opened the age of world debate.
Beckett. 1118-1170. Worked for the Archbishop ofCanterbury France London
Piranesi Vase. Shipped toEngland
Monkey sewn in fishes body-Japanese. Collected. Barnum displayed it too. People were excited about collected things.
Facsimile of Rosetta Stone 196 BC. British got it in 1801 in the defeat of Napoleon. When he went into a campaign he took scientists along. Depicts 3 languages. Like a tax return. Thomas Young deciphered it. Says same thing in all 3 languages. This opened up the ancient world.
Captain Cook. 18th c. Explorer navigator. Circumnavigated world. Accurate maps used until WW1. His sailors survived because he gave them fresh water. Journals published. His cottages moved to Melborne. (Visitors on our tour fromAustralia
A rainless though chilly day is promised so we resolve to essay the British museum, a long walk to a Very Big museum, and this being a non-matinee day.
First task is final ticket gathering: Tkts for Irresistable Rise and then to
for tickets to tomorrow's Requiem and Handel. Reuel. "A perfect ending to our holiday." Bob "A requiem?" "Um. The Handel part."
On our walk I say "I'm glad we included a concert. It's like opposite of me with fish. I always think I adore fish then find the taste unexciting. I often have doubts about concerts and then find that I love them."
Incredible is the
Eastern meditteranean is Turkey,
The Amphora. Shows Achilles falling in love with an "uncivilized" woman. Black figure ware against fine terra cotta.
Tomb statue. Supposed to look at front. The Khoros figure is associated with graveyards and temples. Unrealistic. Inverted "V" diaphragm. 550bc.
In 500 BC Greeks start reversing black dinner ware. Greater realism.
This Khoros more realistic. Ultimately they will attempt movement in their work.
490 1st Persian invasion of Greeks. Defeated at
450 BC Pericles. Peace. $ used to fight Persians used for temples. Built bigger temples to Athena who helped them win the war.
3 main decorative elements. Parthanon Frieze . Woven robe given to Athena every 3 years shows great Panathena procession. This Huge gallery shows half of frieze.
Now pediment. Zeus swallows Metis and later his head breaks open and out steps fully dressed Athena.
Horses are rendered realistically. Women still clothed.
The Lykiam tomb was actually in
Caryatids support the roof of the porch. Figure both sculptural and functional. Goes back to Khorus figure. Linen folds of her dress are repeated in columns.
When
The oversized figures are Naread monuments. The Mausoleum at Halikarnassos. In Bodrum today see bits of the mausoleum in buildings.
The Amazon frieze. Can see traces of paint. This is proof that everything was painted in Ancient
Hellenistic
Next tour. Enlightenment Gallery.
Geo 4th was a bit of party boy. Gave dad's books to
Sir Hand Sloane. Doctor to Queen Ann and 2 successors. His collection 80,000 objects. 65,000 books. Beginning of
Cabinet of curiosities. Natural things. Adding to nature. Drawings by Lady Maria Merrian in Guana proved insects didn't arise from mud.
His (Sloane’s) medicine case. Skull with moss on it for treating drukedness. Collected over 800 species of plants. His friend John Ray catalogued s these & all living creatures. His books. Wrote Disclaimer: Don’t read unless very interested because it’s difficult. Carl Milleas. Taxonomist. Highly regarded. Brits started using his system.
Joseph Banks botanist. Sponsored Capt. Cook’s voyage.
His friend Mary Delaney discovered art in her late 70's, huge collection of her botanical mosaics.
Sloane brought cacao from
James Usher said Oct 28 4000 BC was date of creation. But discovery of fossils. Given religious significance. Ammonites St Hilda's snakes (she turned them into stone.)
Sloane said earth older. Hand axes. 400,000 years old. Opened the age of world debate.
Beckett. 1118-1170. Worked for the Archbishop of
Piranesi Vase. Shipped to
Monkey sewn in fishes body-Japanese. Collected. Barnum displayed it too. People were excited about collected things.
Facsimile of Rosetta Stone 196 BC. British got it in 1801 in the defeat of Napoleon. When he went into a campaign he took scientists along. Depicts 3 languages. Like a tax return. Thomas Young deciphered it. Says same thing in all 3 languages. This opened up the ancient world.
Captain Cook. 18th c. Explorer navigator. Circumnavigated world. Accurate maps used until WW1. His sailors survived because he gave them fresh water. Journals published. His cottages moved to Melborne. (Visitors on our tour from
1:30 we're upstairs at the COURT DINING ROOM (in the glorious new court--see photos) which serves no hot food and does combinations of food, such as 2 salads, 1 fish etc, a bit confusing but we manage to order 2 salads each. Sweet potato; cauliflower; cous cous and mixed green beans. All delicious, the potato in particular. Surely the healthiest meal we've had in
Tip: Next time here one might go for the 12 pound huge cheese plate or the ham Board.
The
At the Lewis Chessman we catch a tour. 4 sets of chessman. Ivory from walrus. Norwegian (probably on way to
If we're not absolutely full from our luncheon repast we're not deterred in our unstated mission to eat and drink our way through this part of Britain---so there's sushi and cheesed up crackers at cocktail hour (a final stop in Tesco having been absolutely necessary --- for my information, make sure to budget for an independent trip $50 daily above our ordinary (ahem) Food and Drink budget.
Time for our official pathfinder (not me) to find The Duchess Theatre. The weather is balmy - at last. And the streets are teeming with Friday night revelers.
THE RESISTABLE ROSE OF ARTURO UI. Bertold Brecht. Duchess Theatre.
This mantra is getting boring but the acting is outstanding (it's just a terrific production) although the Chicago gangster accents are a bit weird (forgiveable since this is a stylized production).
The play’s about the resistable rise of a Hitler-like figure, here a gangster and often a buffoon which allows Henry Goodman as Arturo to give a great performance, one that is up to the play's extraordinary demand of requiring the central character to change from a crude, weird thug into a polished tyrant of Shakespearean proportions. (The scene in which Arturo is coached on polish by a has-been Shakespearean actor [magnificent] is one if the funniest and brilliantly realized in the history of theatre.) In fact there are traces of Julius Caesar--betrayal, violence and other Shakespearean plays throughout, even one scene played entirely in rhyming iambic pentameter couplets, as Brecht and this director make the audience complicit in Arturo’s resistible rise.
Having again braved the madding Fri night crowds everywhere of young people, Bob confesses we look conspicuous throughout our journey back home with a stop again inCovent Garden where our theatre is. Home is closed double pain windows to keep out, surprisingly successfully, the noise of this vibrant neighborhood.
There's wine of course and a half sandwich and a tasting of BBC -- how much can we hear of the party minister, a whip, who calls women sluts in an unguarded moment -- sound USA familiar? -- and is relieved of his position by a skitterish party chair.
So I'm in search of Englishness, Bob
Switches channels and we find pretty young het guys and girls having trust issues and being randy. Blech.
cast of 29. UI is here pronounced “ooey”. (My grad Brecht seminar professor pronounced the commonly used Brecht “Bresht”, so who knows.) As we are seated, on stage there is a cabaret with musicians playing and singing period music. “Brother Can You Spare A Dime.” “Don't Mean A Thing.”
The play’s about the resistable rise of a Hitler-like figure, here a gangster and often a buffoon which allows Henry Goodman as Arturo to give a great performance, one that is up to the play's extraordinary demand of requiring the central character to change from a crude, weird thug into a polished tyrant of Shakespearean proportions. (The scene in which Arturo is coached on polish by a has-been Shakespearean actor [magnificent] is one if the funniest and brilliantly realized in the history of theatre.) In fact there are traces of Julius Caesar--betrayal, violence and other Shakespearean plays throughout, even one scene played entirely in rhyming iambic pentameter couplets, as Brecht and this director make the audience complicit in Arturo’s resistible rise.
Having again braved the madding Fri night crowds everywhere of young people, Bob confesses we look conspicuous throughout our journey back home with a stop again in
There's wine of course and a half sandwich and a tasting of BBC -- how much can we hear of the party minister, a whip, who calls women sluts in an unguarded moment -- sound USA familiar? -- and is relieved of his position by a skitterish party chair.
So I'm in search of Englishness, Bob
Switches channels and we find pretty young het guys and girls having trust issues and being randy. Blech.
What an exciting morning. We are out of bagels so we toast English Crumpets !! in our defective hold-the-lever-and-count-to-150 toaster.
Then instead of getting ready to go out, we watch Salvage Quest's antique dealer buying . . . antiques.
We don't set forth until noon -- good for us.
Bob, wistful, says tomorrow we won't be sitting in charming little restaurants looking out at 18th century buildings.
So here we are in POLPETTINE, a charming little Italian restaurant we passed yesterday and were interested in onKatherine St next door from the Duchess and Alberto Ui. My minestrone is spicy, unusual. I like it. Bob's Bruscetta very fresh--would recommend.
My main Penne Arabetta is ok (actually improves as the wine does. Coincidence?) Bob (breaking his no-pizza interregnum) likes his pepperoni pizza (my 2 slices are yummy though dietetically unnecessary).
9.99 pounds each for the 2 course set.
We get to cross Waterloo bridge now
and having time after picking up our tickets from the Old Vic (Kevin Spacey's theatre company incidentally)
we stroll in the neighborhood into those wonderful row houses, discover it's Octavia Park from Association notices on doors. Workers flats as I recall which are probably pretty dear now. And then we discover the little gingerbreaad houses in the next block.
We don't set forth until noon -- good for us.
Bob, wistful, says tomorrow we won't be sitting in charming little restaurants looking out at 18th century buildings.
So here we are in POLPETTINE, a charming little Italian restaurant we passed yesterday and were interested in on
We get to cross Waterloo bridge now
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. OLD VIC.
What enticed us was starring Vanessa Redgrave and James Earl Jones and directed by Mark Rylance. Who could resist? Then last night Bob read the reviews (I refused to read after he broke the news) of the previous evening and says the critics hated it. So we approach with a combination of trepidation and vastly lowered expectations.
At least we get to see the Old Vic, beautiful 1819 building that is presided over by Mr. Spacey.
Third rush for drinks at the interval in our play-going this holiday meaning a third doggy dud. England ? Where's the text for that? Alas during 1st act I was nodding off. Bob didn't jab me so I guess I didn't snore. Bob notes no one is peddling ice cream. I respond that they're too dispirited.
In fact the augers were right. What were they thinking? Arthritic geriatric stars desultorily impersonating young energetic Beatrice and Benedict. She in particular is muffled in her speech -- why? And why are we expected to interpolate Tuskeegee airmen in 1940's war torn
The set a mahogoney cube is lackluster and doesn't seem to aid the play as does . . . anything.
7:30 PM. ST MARTINS IN THE FIELD. BELMONT ENSEMBLE OF LONDON & ENGLISH CHAMBER CHOIR.
Handel - Zadok the Priest
Handel - Gloria
Interval
Mozart - Requium
Magnificent. Fills the soul. Sublime (And the timpanist and tenor are cute. Actually that's about the total human eye candy here. And does that justify these expensive seats? Actually we have lovely box seats over the orchestra in this magnificent 18th century parish church ofBuckingham Palace England .
This last trek home through the maelstrom of youth is less daunting, a group giving expression to their pub tour t-shirts. We're enjoying the now familiar sights. We disappoint yet another pedicab driver. Next time.What enticed us was starring Vanessa Redgrave and James Earl Jones and directed by Mark Rylance. Who could resist? Then last night Bob read the reviews (I refused to read after he broke the news) of the previous evening and says the critics hated it. So we approach with a combination of trepidation and vastly lowered expectations.
At least we get to see the Old Vic, beautiful 1819 building that is presided over by Mr. Spacey.
The set a mahogoney cube is lackluster and doesn't seem to aid the play as does . . . anything.
7:
Handel - Zadok the Priest
Handel - Gloria
Interval
Mozart - Requium
Magnificent. Fills the soul. Sublime (And the timpanist and tenor are cute. Actually that's about the total human eye candy here. And does that justify these expensive seats? Actually we have lovely box seats over the orchestra in this magnificent 18th century parish church of
Delicious salmon & prawn sandwich and chips. Taxi (company) to Heathrow reservation. At 31 pounds sounds rather cheap (car cos. are cheaper than taxis it turns out.).
Bob while we're having the last of our wine in ourSoho flat, "It's been a nice vacation. Oxford and London ."
DAY 19. SUNDAY SEPT. 22.
We have a leisurely morning because our car is not due until 11. Actually Bob has to pack; as small recompense he allows me to make him an egg (egg, humus, milk, butter and pepper) with his toasted crumpet. Final trip ritual, I arrange all our theatre and assorted programs for a photoshoot, the resulting photo destined for the wall of my study : 13 plays in all (including the one at Oxford); 3 concerts; 2 museums and many guided walks, such as, Oxford colleges, 2 Oxford literary walks, Blenheim Castle, and the Cotswolds; in London, Soho, Covent garden area, and Bloomsbury at night. And we dined at 17 restaurants (one a repeat) and pubs. Busy boys.
Bob while we're having the last of our wine in our
DAY 19. SUNDAY SEPT. 22.
We have a leisurely morning because our car is not due until 11. Actually Bob has to pack; as small recompense he allows me to make him an egg (egg, humus, milk, butter and pepper) with his toasted crumpet. Final trip ritual, I arrange all our theatre and assorted programs for a photoshoot, the resulting photo destined for the wall of my study : 13 plays in all (including the one at Oxford); 3 concerts; 2 museums and many guided walks, such as, Oxford colleges, 2 Oxford literary walks, Blenheim Castle, and the Cotswolds; in London, Soho, Covent garden area, and Bloomsbury at night. And we dined at 17 restaurants (one a repeat) and pubs. Busy boys.
Our
40 minutes to Heathrow. Our driver seems to be surprised by a tip (over the 41 pounds EasyCar co.)
Oops actually our boarding time is 1:20 for a 2:20 departure. Fairly painless through check-in and security, beginning to feel like an old hand at this (well old) especially since the long-haired young man ahead of me with an encased guitar strapped to his back (or is it s tommy gun?) is told to remove his belt and then to bag his liquids. The guard smirks at me knowingly as if to acknowledge "You're of the elite Travel Professional classes. You don't mind if your pants fall down." The first time we went to London , we were stopped at Heathrow to be interviewed extensively by (hot) agents. That may be because we were then in our menacing forties. Now we're apparently well beyond the pale for terror activists. Need to tighten (ahem) our profiles.
Some gift chocolate at the duty-free and then to the Serviceair lounge for an hour's worth of wine and snacks. (Full Self service bar, which concept I find agreeable.)
It takes forever to board this super (two storied) aircraft. Bob apparently had been given priority status (through Brian's earlier machinations) and boards at least a half an hour before I do, which is actually fine with me since I can stand and move around in preparation for an 11 hour flight)!
United differs from the European international airlines in that peasants must pay for their alcohol--this one does. Having seen Gatsby on the flight to Europe , I now watch it just for the gorgeous Loerman images against a classical music channel. That works because the director is primarily a visualist. The film seems much better this way (the double vodka helps) like watching one of those silent films we see at those San Diego Symphony concerts which feature them.
This may be United but the staff seems from strange, mysterious parts. We'll get home safely. We will.
And we do, happy to be back in familiar environs after a terribly long flight home, including a stop off in San Francisco . (TIP: Next time try the new British Air non-stop) and to face the pile of mail that Don has left for us on our dining room table. But that's for another day isn't it.
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