Wednesday, November 27/2013

On the road again - or more accurately in the air. Noon flight to Athens. Leave a bit late and two hours time change, so half past six into Athens, and dark. We make the 19:03 metro into the city. The lady at the terminal is happy to sell us half price seniors' tickets. Doesn't ask to see the passports - maybe I should be offended. J has an interesting talk with a (mid-forties?) Greek man on the way in. J asks about the situation in Greece: yes, things are difficult but he is, surprisingly, fairly optimistic. He himself was laid off by a large industrial company and now is trying to put a new life together, working for himself. His mother is partly paralysed. Yes, medical care is free - if you wait for months. Education is free.

 Omonia Square is our stop, and quite near the hotel. It has a rather seedy reputation, but the reality at 8 pm seems more seedy than dangerous. There are little shops still open and helpful locals on the streets. Our memorised version of the map proves fairly reliable. The hotel itself was booked through Alpharooms, which we've used in the past. The two complaints from the reviews were about the neighbourhood - which seems to be basically safe (except perhaps late at night), if unaesthetic - and the basic character of the breakfasts. The receptionist is friendly and the hotel as clean as the reviewers said. The wifi works after a little hesitation (and in our room not just the lobby!) and the tv produces the sound for BBC World, with promises from the receptionist that this will be accompanied by the picture in the morning. We're happy.

Tuesday, November 26/2013

Last day. Will they miss us at Starbucks and however did we travel before wifi? Actually, I remember in our pre-netbook days (to say nothing of pre-tablet days) when we used to go down to Earl's Court in London and pay our pound for an hour's worth of time on a grotty computer in a room crammed with backpackers - and congratulate ourselves for having begun our travels in the high tech age. Now absence of wifi is almost a deal breaker, although not in London where we have an amazing deal without.

Side note on London. So many places where clerical staff are gratuitously kind. Especially  at libraries, theatres, museums, where they go out of their way to be helpful and actually acts like they care about how things have worked out. Think for example of the girl at the Barbican Library who, with some difficulty, found me a spot in the music department last spring where I could get wifi access to set up a new ipad mini. And even the postal clerk today who finished the transaction by telling me to take care - yes, a catchphrase, but a happy one.

Monday, November 25/2013

Starbucks fairly full so a man with a rather large face takes the chair on the opposite side of our little table. Not sure whether the difficulty is neurological or psychological but his jaw works violently and continuously. And rather in our faces. That's a little disconcerting but the unnerving bit is that he is consuming what appears to be medication from a blister pack at a rapid rate. Could be lemon drops I suppose but doesn't look much like it. So I start to wonder what, if anything, I will do if this induces seizures, coma, sudden death. Sudden death, of course, the simplest to deal with. I'm a medical coward: when in doubt summon a barista. 

To Thames Ditton in the afternoon to visit Jenny and Doug and assembled family. Twelve of us round the table and they among the very few we know who can easily accommodate twelve round their dining table. Jasmine and Leila there first, Jasmine very proud of her school uniform and the gold star pinned to it (given for kindness). Cody the same age as Jasmine (4) and a comedian. Lovely sense of timing and feigned unawarenhess of audience. Leila (2) no longer a baby at all and well aware of her audience as well. Jenny just back on Friday from two weeks in Vietnam. Try to get a sense from her photos of  how much it has changed since we honeymooned there twenty years ago.

Sunday, November 24/2013

Chilly but dry. Indoor day for us, though. We're back in the early afternoon to watch the last F1 race of the year, the Brazilian Grand Prix. The championship has already been decided and Vettel covers himself with more glory. It's also Mark Webber's last career race, and lots of emotion there. And in Canada it's Grey Cup day - and much chillier in Regina.

Saturday, November 23/2013

Out to West Harrow in the afternoon to see Jean. Good visit and lovely Sri Lankan curry meal. J has ordered two of Taleb's books from Amazon and they're here, fortunately lighter paperbacks than we'd expected. Jean has stories of her neighbour's hundredth birthday - longevity down to daily luncheon martini? Certainly the photo shows a woman looking much younger. Shanthi joins us for the meal, delayed a little because she is duty magistrate for the weekend and has spent the day in court, habeas corpus eing taken seriously in these parts. In theory she does this two days a week and works at the Department of Justice the other three, but as is the way with part-time jobs the sum of the parts seems to be more than one whole.

Friday, November 22/2013

To the London School of Economics for one last lecture. This one by Lina Sinjab, BBC Syrian correspondent. She's speaking particularly about the hope provided by civil society in Syria at present. Almost 50% of Syrian children have dropped out of school, but Sinjab talks of the women who are responding to crisis by teaching children or giving medical help or forming home handicraft groups. We're most impressed by the people who have come to listen, most of whom have spent time in Syria - reporters, a man from the foreign office, middle east researchers. They all appear to be here on their own time, on a Friday night.

Thursday, November 21/2013

To Trafalgar Square after Starbucks. We hit it as there's a big promotion for naturally raised British pork. They're giving away pork-topped tacos and actually do hand out something like 4000 of them. We arrive exactly ahead as they're giving away the last two - by this time their vegetarian option with beans, onion and mushrooms, which is fine with us, in fact delicious. 

The Portrait Gallery is just off Trafalgar and one of our favourite spots. This time we concentrate on the 20th century portraits, which have changed more than the Tudors since our last visit, not surprisingly. I'm interested in a painting by Boshier of a fellow artist (not least because the sitter reminds me of Mike Duffy). Heavy use of palate knife and two overlapping faces. Boshier's comment is that one should only paint portraits when the sitter is not present - otherwise one paints only "physiology" rather than character. This subject, he says, had two aspects to his character. On the way out we visit the Epstein collection. As well as the busts (first time I realised Lucian Freud was, briefly, Epstein's son-in-law) there is a Karsh photograph of Epstein. Actually our family could have had a Karsh. My grandfather knew him when he was young "Joe"Karsh, the photographer, and kept intending to get him to photograph my mother and her sister - I think largely to help give his career a start.

Our last (probably) visit to Roses Restaurant this trip. (No, there's no apostrophe. The logo shows flowers). We've picked Thursday because they do the best lamb kleftiko we've tasted, in our outside of Cyprus. (Photo of the lamb instead of the Boshier or an Epstein bust is not because we are obsessed with food - although we do like it - but because the Portrait Gallery won't let us take pictures and the restaurant will. There's entertainment too, as well as good food. The man at the next table is a pontificator who is instructing his wife. Her answers are inaudible, or maybe she's learned not to bother. He tells her that electricity is ridiculously expensive and they must boycott. I mean it: DO NOT turn on the electricity. His solution is to go out to eat, and in fact they order one cup of tea, "to share," with their meals. Interesting because food is actually cheaper in the UK than in Canada, witness the fascinating eating-on-a-benefits-budget blog and Facebook page  A Girl Called Jack, as well as our own experience. Accommodation isn't cheaper but food - and wine - is. It's impossible to believe that judicious shopping at Sainsbury's or Tesco or Aldi's and a thermostat set moderately low wouldn't be cheaper than eating out. Electricity also is cheaper in the UK than in Ontario. I'm tempted to provide unsolicited advice but am fortunately prevented by my role as eavesdropper.

Wednesday, November 20/2013

To the British Museum. There's always so much to see that we usually choose one exhibit or one or two galleries and focus there. This time we're anticipating being in Greece in a week's time, and much of the best of Greece's history is in the British Museum, to the fury of many Greeks. I have more than mixed feelings about this though. Lord Elgin arguably came by the marbles honourably; he didn't smuggle them out of the country. They've undoubtedly been better preserved by the British than they would have been in Greece, especially in pre-EU days. Besides, it's so limiting to suggest that countries should only display artefacts of local or national origin. No Renaissance paintings in North America, no inuit sculptures in the UK, etc.

The British Museum is quite near the London School of Economics, where we're headed. It's even closer to the Mary Ward adult education centre, which is a handy place for supper. The centre provides a variety of courses and opportunities, particularly in the fine arts. Some of it very practical, such as help in setting up websites. The little cafe has paintings on the wall and a choice of gourmet vegetarian dishes, the most expensive main course at £4.40 ($7.35 CAD). Some of them are pretty to look at too. 

The presentation at the LSE is by Professor Mike Savage. It's based on the results of the recent UK class affiliation survey as published by the BBC. I thought then (and yes, I did do the questionnaire) that it was superficial, arbitrary, and flaky, reminiscent of the surveys in popular women's magazines and, I thought, biased in favour of urban dwellers, youth and extroverts. I have most of the same thoughts listening now, though J, who has not had the disadvantage of previous exposure, is less irritated. On the other hand, the woman who responds to the presentation, Professor Bev Skeggs, is sharp, funny, and basically sound - and unwilling to undertake a serious discussion of class without mention of capital or labour. Well, OK, perhaps Marxist, but you can disagree with Marx without going all teen mag. And I mellow afterward because the speaker's inaugural lecture is being rewarded with a drinks reception and wine is a great defuser.

Tuesday, November 19/2013

To the Science Museum in Kensington. We're here to see the exhibition on 3-D printing. It's a bit underwhelming though. Too many words and pictures and too few actual 3-D artefacts. Some pretty interesting concepts all the same. Over five and a half million people have been given 3-D printed implants and body parts. Not everything printed has to be plastic either. Biological materials and even living human cells can be used and it's possible to do very accurate custom adjustments.

Some of the historic exhibits are actually more satisfying though, because there's more to see. For example Robert Stephenson's locomotive:

It has an interesting history:

Dinner at Mamuska's Polish restaurant, far southern end of the Bakerloo line. Menu very Polish (although bilingually written). Cafeteria style setting but friendly service, sense of humour, and large portions of comfort  food - cabbage rolls, pyrogies, sausage, potato pancakes, etc.

Monday, November 18/2013

Our location is perfect. Just off vibrant Queensway and near two tube stations. The only downside is that the neighbourhood, while alive and multi-ethnic, is a bit too touristy- and that drives the prices up.  It's not upscale by any means, but the shops, pubs and cafes in Kilburn, much of the east end, and even Camden Town, are cheaper and more likely to be family owned than they arehere in Bayswater. Sparkly too at night, and darkness comes early at this latitude. But food, whether discount supermarket or ethnic shop are better in Kilburn High Road or Chapel Market or Brixton.

Queensway, 8:30 PM:

Sunday. November 17/2013

To Westminster Cathedral for the 10:30 Mass with full choir including the boy sopranos from the choir school. Always incredibly beautiful. And usually standing room only. The building is 19th century red brick and not overwhelming from the outside, but its Byzantine style interior is impressive and looks older than it is, all marble and mosaic.

Back to Kilburn High Road for dinner. It's real in a slightly rough, multicultural way, much the way Queensway used to be twenty-five years ago. And it lacks Queensway's tourists, which makes it a little less crowded and does wonders in keeping the prices down.

Saturday, November 16/2013

Qualifying for the American Grand Prix not on at at 10:30 as listed, and when we think about it it's pretty obvious the listing would have been wrong. Why would there be pre-dawn qualifying in Texas for a race?

Take the Bakerloo line over to Waterloo. Makes it twenty minutes from Bayswater, so a definite keeper. This time the South Bank almost too crowded to move. A market on behind the Royal Festival Hall with an impressive variety of stalls. Ethnic foods of all kinds and even pork cut from an entire free range pig. Mulled wine with brandy. Hard to imagine anyone being allowed to drink in Ontario without being practically glued to the chair in a roped off area, which is pretty embarrassing actually. If people in London, and most of the rest of the world for that matter, can drink whilst walking without starting fights, vomiting, vandalising, etc. presumably Ontarians could manage the same with a little practice. Must be something hazardous we're up to though. Helicopters patrol the Thames continuously, and it's not just today so it can't be as part of a particular diplomatic event.

Elephant and Castle is the end of the Bakerloo line, a couple of stops past Waterloo. Relatively seedy area in the past, but seems now to be in the midst of some large scale renewal. It's a multi-ethnic area, and if we hadn't noticed the Tesco would have been a dead giveaway. All the usual supermarket offerings but also such exotica as huge five kilo bags of pounded yams (pounded to a powder) and Nigerian grown beans. Upstairs in the same mall is Mamuska, a Polish restaurant that looks fairly basic but has been reviewed frequently and enthusiastically. We don't sample the wares this time though, because we're off to the Indian Veg for our Saturday evening buffet.

Indian Veg, near Angel tube station, is our favourite standby, and we're prepared for their happy no corkage policy with (refilled) plastic wine bottles from the flight over, light and handy for supper when called for. It's Saturday busy, but the food is good as ever and they can always squeeze in two more for the vegetarian buffet. Definite second helpings.

Friday, November 15/2013

The Saatchi Gallery is holding previews of its new exhibits. It says for its Facebook fans, and that is indeed how we found out, but one assumes that the exhibit is simply open to the general public before any formal opening ceremony. The Saatchi is always worth a visit. The offerings are uneven, but they're often intriguing and the best shows are excellent. It's actually a much braver gallery than the Tate Modern.

Today I'm most interested in a set of large paintings by a young American, Michael Cline. The large canvasses lead to highly disturbing speculation and narrative, at odds with the innocent blandness of the style. The subject matter is horrific: the room for rent appears to be a cardboard box, a struggle is taking place over a body lying underneath police tape, police arrive in a room where one person is dead and the others eerily, corruptly unconcerned. 

These are not the only disturbing works on display. A whole gallery features nameless wooden grave markers and slick paintings by Russian Denis Tarasov of gravestones bearing full length portraits of the dead, most of whom have died unnaturally young. And then there is the unnaturally flattened body, entitled "Crush" lying in the corner of a room that features a major construction illustrating vandalism.

Then a trip out to Hammersmith to check out the Polish Cultural Centre. There is a small exhibit of paintings there as well, featuring four young Polish painters, and J picks up a couple of Polish magazines while we're there.

Thursday, November 14/2013

A white Lamborghini of breathtakingly futuristic design is parked in Queensway, not very near the curb and more or less impeding traffic. Licence plates not UK but not diplomatic either. Arabic numbers on top and regular ones underneath. Easier to understand the sense of entitlement with a car like that than to fathom why the owner was oblivious to possible damage to his own vehicle so imprudently positioned.

A brief visit to the British Library. Spend a little time with the Magna Carta exhibition. There.s also a small display of children's book illustrations. Actually, I'm most taken with a little book in the shop featuring quirky places to see in London, but unwilling to spend £11 ($18.35 CAD) adding a non-electronic book to my suitcase. 

Supper at the little cafe at the Mary Ward Centre, an adult education facility. It's an easy walk from the British Library but a bit awkward to find, hidden behind Clerkenwell Road. A lovely little find, though. Gourmet quality vegetarian food at student prices. J has a lentil and vegetable stew and I celeriac and mushroom pie with rice and cheese topping. We share a green salad. Delicious.

Our final stop is at the London School of Economics for a lecture (passing on the way our second interesting car of the day, a GWiz electric at a free charging point - electric cars are also exempt from the daily congestion charge for driving in central London). 

The speaker is Roberto Mangabeira Unger, Professor at Harvard and former minister in the da Silva government in Brasil. The event is being broadcast for BBC Radio 4, and it's very interesting. Unger's vision is of a society that moves beyond the "poisonous" confines of economic nationalism: It's intolerable that we should embrace globalisation where goods  and money are free to move but people are imprisoned within the nation state. He sees a world in which each adult is responsible not only for a productive job but for caring for someone outside his or her own family and insists that this is not an impractical utopian ideal but a way of life that would be embraced for the deep satisfaction it provides. The proposals, he says, don't depend on the view that we can radically change ourselves. We want ordinary activity gradually to expand. For example, suicide dropped during WW II and rose afterward because people were engaged in something bigger than themselves. We want that enlargement not only in crisis: nobody who has tasted a larger life will want to abandon it.

Wednesday. November, 13/2013

South Bank again and Tate Modern. The gallery is being renovated and expanded on a large scale, so there's no exhibition in the turbine hall and won't be until some time next year. There is a Paul Klee exhibit on, but we're reluctant to come up with the £16 each ($26.70 CAD) to see it and settle for some of the free galleries. Interesting photographs by Syrian born Hrair Sarkissian, who displays a set of pictures of squares in Syria that have been used for executions. The forty year old photographer says that executions were usually held about dawn but bodies left until nine or so, and he can remember seeing some hanging once as he walked to school. The photos are themselves taken at about 4:30 AM, and the squares are peaceful but....

Then back to Kilburn High Road, where we end up having supper at The Bell. Their seafood and chips basket, two for £7 ($11.70 CAD). Along with a pint of bitter each, it's comfort food, if not health food. The pub itself is rough and ready, with a regular clientele that provides plenty of unscripted entertainment. Though you're best seated well away from the loos if you don't want to find yourself thinking of cat boxes. I'm assuming those at the bar have had a great deal more to drink than we have, though they're probably more extrovert to begin with. The colours are nailed to the wall, in the form of a huge poster in support of Celtic football team, a reminder that Kilburn was once mainly Irish, though it's now largely West Indian and Asian. The conversation would make for good theatre of the absurd: a long dialogue about having a bath, with many reminders that nakedness is not sufficient - it 's also necessary to run the water. And there's song as well: a bit of Don't Cry for me Argentina, sung by a Caribbean man of indeterminate age. As we came in a customer was being loudly ordered out, but this turned out to be another patron's wish and not management edict. It's pretty friendly though, and I ask J if ut reminds him of Winnipeg's North Main in his student days.

Tuesday, November 12/2013

To Canada House, our High Commission for a discussion between Canadian journalist Doug Saunders (Globe and Mail, etc) and British journalist Yasmin Alibhai-Brown on the subject of the myth of the Muslim tide, also the title of Saunders' latest book. We're lucky to have noticed it was on, lucky in that Saunders is one of the journos we follow on Twitter and he referenced it. So we emailed our request to the government and were duly informed that our names had been added to the list. We've often been to Canada House before, mostly in the old days to check our email and once, during the volcanic eruption no-fly time to be provided with rather superior biscuits and lukewarm advice, as well as internet access. This is a rather better part of the building, still undergoing lengthy renovations and expansion than we've been invited to visit before. It's the same location on Trafalgar Square, but this time we're taken upstairs to reception rooms with leather furniture and served wine as we wait for the discussion to begin (although it's still impossible not to think that for less than $10,000 we could do considerably better for them in the way of Canadian art for the walls).

The talk is a bit late starting but the time happily filled chatting, in part with Rouben Khatchadourian, political affairs counsellor at the High Commission. He's had various Middle East postings following a military career that took him to Bosnia and has a quiet, modest style and a commitment to the low key work of diplomacy that lasts beyond the length of a single parliament. 

The discussion is interesting and works quite well unmoderated. Doug's basic thesis, backed up by many stats, is that there is no tide of "them" taking over "us". Numbers of Islamic immigrants are not enormous, most don't come from poor and overcrowded areas, and high percentages are well educated, committed to their adoptive countries and (within a generation) fairly typical citizens of their new homes in all respects including birth rates. Yasmin is, as always, more scattered and more passionate, equally distressed by racism in the west and by western over-optimistic tolerance of practices she regards as dangerous, such as the wearing of the hijab. Her point is that the growing insistence on having small children wear it is essentially a form of sexualising them. It's an interesting and valid point, but I can't help feeling some reluctance at the idea of identifying an ideal and then insisting that everyone adopt it. And there are practical difficulties. What precisely is a hijab, and will the queen be forbidden to wear a kerchief to the racetrack? There also seems to be no sense that there may be a protective social value in pluralism. Societies can go rogue and secularism is neither value free nor inevitably positive. Provocative though.

Monday, November 11/2013

There seems to be a steady trade in umbrellas, trade being the operative word. They're for sale at little shops all along the high street for £3 ($5 CAD). But only in a downpour should one pay that, because pound shops sell identical ones for only £1. Still, trade is what we seem to do - leave one on a bus, find one on a train. Sometimes trading up and sometimes down. The best of them I lost in Paphos, of all places, last year. We're one up at the moment, having found an extra on a District tube carriage Saturday, but it may not last. Nothing wrong with the umbrella, but they do tend to take their leave.

Remembrance Day, but we're in Starbucks at eleven, and if there's silence it's accidental.

To the Museum of London for a Gresham lecture, this one entitled "Is Man Just Another Animal." Steve Jones, the presenter, is an appealing personality, and entertaining as well as informative, with a gift for putting information in perspective. We may share 95% of our DNA with chimps but we share 50% with bananas. The differences are significant. We are the only primates unable to survive on raw food alone, requiring cooking to compensate for short intestines, small mouths, reduced teeth and a modest stomach. Those who try to survive on raw food alone eventually starve - a man does not live on what he eats but on what he digests. Only in brain size do humans come off superior to the other primates. But human brain size is smaller than that of Neanderthals and no larger than it was 100,000 years ago. 

Back to Kilburn High Road for dinner - our first time at Roses this trip. It's always good comfort food at prices the fast food places along the road can scarcely match, and always locals eating there. We start with large bowls of potato leek soup. Then I have roast lamb, roast potatoes and gravy, and J fish and chips. They do fish better than any other place we know, the perfectly cooked fillet longer than the ample plate. 

Program on telly tonight on speeches that shook the world. Most original hint (used by Enoch Powell amongst others): don't pee before you deliver the speech - it provides that extra sense of urgency.

Sunday, November 10/2013

Stroll along Bayswater Road for the weekly Sunday art display, a mile or so of mostly paintings hung on the fence that marks the north side of Hyde Park. Some are clearly for the tourist market - sketches of Tower Bridge or Big Ben - but there's quite a stylistic variety as well as a range of quality. And wit - a portrait of Her Majesty reading The Racing Post, cigarette grimly held between clenched teeth. We're charmed by a bright composite of central London with the iconic spots juggling for space like the illustrations in a child's book, and chat with the artist about travel as a way of life. I've been remembering the first time I came here on a Sunday nearly twenty-five years ago and was captivated by the work of a young Polish Englishman - and suddenly spot works that I'm sure are his. Wenczka - that must be the name. It is.

Then a walk along the South Bank, also Sunday busy. They're building little wooden kiosks, happily Christmassy, along the pavement. It's reminiscent of the frost fairs held on the ice centuries ago when the Thames froze over, though the crowds then were Londoners and most of these people aren't. Westminster Bridge is almost clogged with camera wielding tourists.

Last stop is Greenwich, at Goddard's Pie Shop (established 1890 but sadly relocated a couple of years ago to a rather less charming building a block or so away from its original home). The crumbles are still large and delicious and overflowing with custard, though (£2.90). Their specialities are pies - steak and kidney, chicken, mushroom, etc - and eels, but having no room for two courses we're always forced to choose, and opt this time for apple and black currant crumbles.

Saturday, November 10/2013

To Somerset House for an exhibition,

linked vaguely to next year's hundredth anniversary of the beginning of WWI. Somerset House itself initially difficult to access, as the Strand is closed fore annual Lord Mayor's Procession - an impressive affair with ancient coach, and guilds and much period costuming. We only catch a glimpse. The Worshipful Company of Joiners and Ceilers. What on earth are ceilers? All very cheerful.

Stanley Spencer, eccentric painter, near mystic, and sometime war artist is featured in a collection of war paintings completed between 1927 and 1932 and showing scenes of ordinary, even domestic, military life, based on Spencer's experiences in Macedonia and at Beaufort Military Hospital - scenes including daily routines like sorting laundry and filling water bottles. The paintings are normally housed at Sandham Memorial Chapel, purpose built for Spencer's work. The major piece in the chapel is The Resurrection of the Soldiers, a vision of the end of the war in which heaven has emerged from hell and stunned, rather than ecstatic, soldiers are rising from the subterranean. It's reminiscent of the resurrection painting at Cookham parish church in Spencer's home village, where recognisable local residents are shown stumbling from their graves on the day of judgement. A painting we saw on a day trip to Cookham a few years ago.

Supper at The Indian Veg, our standby vegan buffet. The food is as good as ever, probably a little better, but nothing remains the same forever. After years of serving an eat-what-you-like meal for £4.99, they've gone to £5.50. Still an incredible bargain, and no charge for bringing your own wine or beer.

Friday, November 8/2013

Bit of puttering along Kilburn High Road and then over to Bishopsgate to see Owen Jones interview Tony Benn about the last of his many diaries - A Blaze of Autumn Sunshine. We're lucky to get a train as there's been a fire in one of the stations and somebody under a train at Victoria (an almost daily occurrence), causing major delays. As it happens, though, we're in plenty of time, largely because I have mistakenly written down six instead of seven as the starting time, which gives us front row seats.

Benn is in good form for an increasingly frail man of eighty-eight. He has had a long and  honourable career as a Labour MP (fifty years in the House of Commons, for which he gave up a peerage), a campaigner for social justice and against war, and a compelling speaker and political diarist. In his prime there was nobody to match him in the last categories, and it is to his credit that so uncompromising a socialist maintained friendships with people of all walks of life and political persuasions, from Billy Bragg to former Conservative Prime Minister Edward Heath.

Physically Benn is showing his age, but he's sharp, and is, of course, delivering narratives and analyses that he has formulated well already - probably in the same words. So when Jones suggests that in his old age some may have recast Benn as a grandfatherly character rather than a major dissident - a harmless, kindly old gentleman - the reply is immediate and practised: I am kindly, I am old, I could be a gentleman - but I'm not harmless. And he's comfortable with the thought of death (a great adventure) and with a religious framework, though he's no longer orthodox in belief. Of the Old Testament he says "My mother taught me that the kings had the power and the prophets had the righteousness - and I believed her and it's got me into a lot of trouble".

Jones does a lovely job of shepherding - compensating for Benn's deafness by fielding and rephrasing questions from the audience and shaping the interview with an attractive energy and wit. He's got a book of his own for sale too - Chavs: The Demonization of the Working Class. Very tempting, but books are heavy and for the first time we're travelling entirely electronically. 

So happy to have finally gone to one of Benn's events. There may not be many left.

Should have been bedtime at midnight but Deric Longden's film, Lost for Words, starring the incomparable late Thora Hird, another national treasure, is on the telly. We've seen it before, but it's brilliant, if sad, and we can't resist. Is the other star, Peter Postlethwaite, gone now too? Yes. And so, this summer, is Longden, the script writer. We must be getting old.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Out to West Harrow to see Jean - timing influenced by the fact that we've had Bishopsgate Institute mail her our tickets for tomorrow night when Owen Jones will be interviewing Tony Benn on the last of his published diaries. Benn says it's the last, not just the latest, and as he's eighty-eight now he's entitled to a retirement that he doesn't seem inclined to subside into. In fact he decided not to stand again for parliament in 2001 after spending over fifty years as a Labour MP - very much Old Labour and not New Labour - saying he wanted to have more time for politics. Fortunately we bought the tickets online weeks ago, as the event is sold out. Benn's diaries rank among the best political diaries and many of non-Labour political persuasion still remember him as the best political speaker they ever heard.

Lunch with Jean, whom we last saw, briefly, in New Brunswick in September, and, as always, four hours of talk passes almost instantly. 

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Despite a slow start, we arrive early and circle London until it's six a.m. And we can legally land - first in the queue. Tube to Bayswater and a slow coffee and internet stop at Starbucks to allow the little hotel time to have a room ready. Starbucks has done some room changing. Gone is the seedy and probably unhygienic comfort of the basement cave. All clean, square, desk-like little wooden tables. Neat and cold. Same friendly staff but gone too are the characters - the man who brought his own toast and the mentally afflicted man who sat for hours with a single cup off tea his ticket to warmth. Gone where? Miss the cosy muddle.

Small jetlag nap and then out to Camden High Street. By half past three it's getting dark. So much farther north than Winnipeg.

BBC announces that Yasser Arafat may have been poisoned, while Al Jazeera says almost certainly poisoned - 83% probability. Interestingly they're both reporting on the same set of findings by a Swiss forensic team and choosing totally different quotations from the findings. The BBC feels obliged to point out that the polonium poisoning verdict was one that Arafat's wife would have wanted. Undoubtedly true, but irrelevant, one would have thought, to the findings of the (presumably unbiased) Swiss team.

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Bus from St Vital to Winnipeg airport, where I pick up two cups of coffee from Starbucks. The girl asks if I want a receipt. Must have mistaken me for a senator. 

The flight to London is completely full as they've cancelled a direct flight from Calgary and added the resulting bodies to our flight. Seems to happen increasingly with Air Canada - reminiscent of China twenty-five years ago. The food is deteriorating as well. Do Air Canada's caterers ever actually eat their own offerings? Salad involving dark yellow kernels of corn and pale yellow (once green?) leaves of cabbage in a container with no actual dressing but a little water in the bottom. The container itself is about two and a half inches squared, which is more than enough. Maybe they look at the uneaten portions and conclude that nobody eats salad so they needn't bother. Fortunately the wine is quite adequate.

Read, electronically, the whole of James Bartleman's memoir of a childhood in the other Muskoka, the one inhabited not by wealthy holiday makers and cottage owners but by day labourers living hand to mouth and natives existing on the fringes of white society. It's funny and moving and inspiring. Partly the story of any boy growing up in a northern Ontario town in the forties and fifties - fishing and reading comic books and splitting firewood, partly social commentary, and partly the account of a boy of imagination abd vision and integrity - and luck - who went from an uninsulated shack and half-breed status to the lieutenant governor's residence.  Called Raisin Wine in honour of Bartleman's father's favourite home brew production.