Thursday, November 15/2012

Breakfast buffet in the restaurant. it's a sunny room with a similar view to that from our room. It's not at all bad - quite Middle East cum North African. Baguettes, croissants, plain cake - the last cooked as you wait. There also seems to be a runny cooked cereal of some sort - we don't sample to find out what. And it's not entirely carbohydrate as it seems at first glance. There's also yoghurt, hard boiled eggs, and little triangles of cream cheese. The coffee is good, though the "juice" is, presumably, the usual sugar water and  again we don't try it. the semi-dried olives are excellent and there are also plates of cut tomatoes and cucumbers.

The wifi in the lobby is excellent, but doesn't begin to reach to our second floor room (room numbering on the European system - ground floor is zero). We check the weather and email. Make efforts to get a decent map on the playbook but its GPS is not up to the challenge, and it's hard finding the ciry area to centre in on. Then we spot a fellow tourist at the desk with a map. Where did he get it? Right here. Unlike most third world hotels, reception does indeed dispense small maps, showing our location and the adjoining medina. Very nice.

The medina proves to be quite a bit bigger than the map would suggest. There are also far more roads in the real life version, no two of them parallel. To say nothing of the tiny lanes. It's a maze. Cautiously, we circle outside the wall, then enter by one of the gates (babs - we recognise the Arabic word from Damascus' geography). There's a little triangular park near a very tall mosque. It's lovely and shady with plenty of benches for resting. The triangle is surrounded by horse drawn caleches, the drivers touting for tourist business, and points, at the apex, into Jamaa el Fna,the famous square at the heart of the medina.
The square is huge and irregular, a little like a fairground when it`s not fair day. Which is not to say that it`s empty. It`s swarming with people and with cars and motorbikes crisscrossing at random angles, managing always to miss the people. Plenty of stalls selling fresh squeezed juice and clusters of watchers around performances, human and monkey, but you know that the square is in waiting for its true life, which begins at dusk. Radiating from the north of Jamaa el Fna are the souks, the markets selling to tourists and locals alike, though there are far more locals than tourists in evidence. there are the souvenirs - costume jewellery and tooled leather; the practical, appealing mainly to locals with things like children`s clothing and plastic basins; the semi-practical, like brilliantly coloured tagines (lovely but fragile and heavy as souvenirs). then there are the completely bizarre - as when one rounds a corner and is confronted with a heap of sheep`s heads. They`re a local delicacy but these are as yet unskilled, with eyes accusing.

Back in the evening for a meal. Dusk by six and the square now lit by flowing lamps from the food stalls erected every night.there`s a hum now and more performance art - boys doing handsprings and small crowds where it`s impossible to see the centre. The food stalls are surrounded by inward facing benches, and they`re busy places, some more so than others. There are dozens of them, all known simply by number - 32, for example, is famous for its lamb sausages. We go to one of the small restaurants rimming the square, though. There it's possible to get "le menu" - the equivalent of the prix fixe. And, more importantly, to face toward rather than away from the square and the street theatre.
We each order salad rather than "normal" (read plain?) omelets as starters and, surprisingly, our salads are different, though not billed differently. One is a tomato, cucumber and coriander plate - very refreshing - and the other an odd mixture of rice, potato, carrot, tomato and beetroot in a salad cream on top of lettuce leaves. A bit odd but OK. J orders the lamb couscos and I the lamb tagine. (We know we're right in guessing the "lamp" is what we're after as the French is listed as "mouton"). They're both good, though we agree that the tagine is slightly better, served in the little tagine casserole with conical lid in which it was cooked, the lamb butter soft and covered with potatoes, green beans, tomato and olives, the juices all preserved by the sealed dish. The couscous is also served with vegetables - courgettes, carrot, and marrow all arranged in a pyramid over the couscous and lamb with a bowl of cooking juices on the side. As usual we share both, as well as the small round loaf of bread - delicious with the juices. Dessert is a small pastry - almond and rosewater - with sweet mint tea, our little silver teapots full of mint sprigs. There's no hurry and the restaurant is busy but not crowded. quite a lot of tourists but locals as well and no wonder. The meal is delicious and the bill for the two of us comes to 95 dirham (€8.55, $10.55 CAD, £6.85)

Wednesday, November 14/2012

We're off early by tube to King's Cross. Then train to Gatwick in time for a fair bit of hanging about before the British Air flight to Marrakesh. The plane is pretty full but we're lucky - seats A and C near the back, with an empty seat between us. Well, some good planning but also luck. Acquire a bottle of Famous Grouse from the onboard duty free in anticipation of Moslem abstemiousness

We left Gatwick to fly over an irregular patchwork of greens. Morocco from the air is sepia monochrome - texture but almost entirely mud coloured. Only as we begin the sesent to Marrakesh are there symetrical green plantations in evidence. And the city itself seems almost entirely clay coloured brick. Short transfer to our hotel, past palm trees and rose bushes. We're on the edge of the medina, just outside the walls of the old city. Beneath our tiny balcony there is endless traffic, pedestrian as well as vehicular. Men, mostly in western dress but some, mainly older, in flowing jellabas. Women, mostly wearing the hijab but some, mainly younger, without. Women as well as men on motorscooters. Taxis plying their trade. Bicycles weaving between private cars. A bus station opposite. Curiously, the dual carriageway separating us from the medina has a pedestrian walk light monitoring one road, while those crossing the other, equally busy, side take their chances. No accidents as we watch. Is this like Krakow, where a critical mass of people gathers before attempting the crossing, or like Beirut, where red lights mean little but catching the eye of the drivers ensures safe passage. Tomorrow we'll explore.

Tonight we do check out the supermarket next door to the hotel. We'd known that there was a shop, but this is considerably more - like the Magasin Général in Tunisia, but better. It has everything from avocados to washing machines, children's clothing to yoghurt. There's also a small attached bakery, and the shoppers, happily, seem to be entirely local. We now have bottled water, as well as bills smaller than the 100 and 200 dirham notes dispensed by the airport cashpoint. Though the bills are as dirty as Egyptian money, the fifties as limp as used tissues and less clean.

Tuesday, November 13/2012

Our last day in London. It's also Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights and Shanthi has kindly invited us to tea. She has taken the day off work, visited inlaws and gone to the temple and now we get to share in the lighting of the Diwali candles and in the meal, made festive with rose petals strewn across the tablecloth. It's Jean and Joe and I, along with Shanthi. Priya is still at work but will be back later as will her boyfriend. Lovely meal with shanthiès homemade springrolls  and butter cake.
Then back to pack and set an alarm.

Monday, November 12/2012

Errand day, as our two weeks comes all too quickly to an end. So small bits of shopping and internet housekeeping re the changes occasioned by Thomas Cook's defection - rebooking of transfer, etc. Still plays unseen and exhibitions unviewed. Where does the time go? Last vegan buffet with quite a nice wine. Consolation - this is one place we'll always come back to.

Sunday, November 11/2012

Remembrance Day. Our worthy plans for joining her majesty at the cenotaph at eleven end when we wake late enough it's no longer possible. My poppy has only just survived to the 11th, being a fragile British paper version, closer to true poppy colour than the vibrant Canadian ones, but less resilient. We met a young English girl selling poppies at Notting Hill tube station who recognised J's poppy as Canadian. She's engaged to a Canadian whom she met when they were both serving in their respective forces in Afghanistan. They're to be married New Year's Eve in Edinburgh and will then be moving to Kingston.
Have a slow wander down Oxford Street before meeting Kristen and her boyfriend Chris for lunch. The intended restaurant is closed but Prix Fixe (actually their name) next door provides a good alternative. Kristen still working as a social worker and Chris back at uni doing a master's. They're looking at going to Canada in the spring after  Kristen's work visa here runs out. Meanwhile K has concentrated on seeing as much of Europe (and even North Africa) as she can manage while within short flight distance - Budapest, Malaga, Berlin, Marrakesh, Istanbul, Athens, etc.

Saturday, November 10/2011

The family run hotel where we stay is cosy. the original fourteen foot high ceilings with moldings and plaster decorations and a ten foot high window. The furniture is mismatched but period, interesting and solid wood. The plumbing is less happily period. New shower with plenty of hot water and good pressure, but a temperamental toilet. Makes flushing feel like a primitive psychological conditioning experiment. The sort where a chicken being fed random pellets of food repeats the behaviour in which it was engaging when the pellet arrived, hoping for the best. Thus we form theories based on the success of the last flush - jiggle first and then hold it down firmly - that are rapidly proven dubious.

Friday, November 9/2012

Fly Thomas Cook has called and left a voice mail to the effect that our flight to Paphos on November 25 has been cancelled. Call back and they're happy (much happier than we) to rebook us on Easyjet at 7:15 - more than two hours earlier than the TC flight. Not really a great deal to be done - and none of it the fault of the pleasant Nicola. TC seems on its last legs. Actually it's amazing they got us on the UK phone. We could easily have been in Morocco and never got the message.

In the evening we meet up with Alexander and Flora at the Colossi Grill near Sadler's Wells Theatre. The Greek Cypriot staff know A&F well and are happy to recommend their best. A meze selection for starters (and whitebait for A). Then souvlaki for A and F and lamb kleftiko for J and me - beautifully succulent on the bone. Noisy and cheerful and we do get to chat a little - politics, economics, families, food.

Thursday, November 8/2012

Our original intention was to queue for same day release tickets for Alan Bennett's new play, People. That would mean being at the National Theatre by eight and leaving here by seven. It's a good day for it, because there's a matinee as well as the evening performance, so twice the chance of getting a ticket. But at six a.m. we rethink - not because we're reluctant to leave the nest warmth of the bed (though we are) but because Alexander has asked if we fancy going to a funky little venue on the southbank to see his younger brother Roddy in an inaugural gig  with his new band, Quorn. If we leave now to get tickets for People, and go to the matinee before an evening concert, it will make too crowded a day. So we hope that we can catch a performance when we're back in London in April. Already we've missed a bit of performance art. J reports having read of a scuffle breaking out between two patrons at a performance of People. One, an elderly American and the other a rather large Brit - the issue being the lack of room to accommodate them in adjoining seats. Apparently audience members were forced to intervene when the dispute became physical, though some had at first hesitated, thinking they might be witnessing a part of the evening's scripted drama.

A trip in the afternoon to see an exhibit of Marilyn Monroe's media portraits at the National Portrait Gallery. The 50th anniversary of her death. She was the same age as the queen - very sad.

Tonight we see some planned performance art. It takes a bit of doing to find the Nursery Theatre. Arch 61 off Great Suffolk Road is a bit vague as an address, and we get quite close before discovering, with the help of two kind girls with GPS, the rather grotty lane following the railway arches.
It's a little cavern - funky, seating about forty on a miscellany of furniture from comfortable armchairs to a bench that's more sawhorse. The band is called Quorn - happily, Alexander discovers, because they fell heir to a quantity of black T-shirts inscribed with the name (and as it is a town in the north as well as a brand name, they're safe from litigation). It's not all band. There's a five woman modern dance group who begin with a shadow performance behind the white paper screen and continue with a number of presentations, many of them quite witty and some actually based on current (as in today's) news items. The band provides minimalist accompaniment and the whole performance is clever, often very funny, and pleasantly intimate in the small, informal space. A off immediately afterward as he has five pianos to tune tomorrow morning.

Wednesday, November 7/2012

Lovely day for a walk and we wander along the south bank fro Waterloo Station to the Tate Modern. There is currently no installation in the great hall, but we go to an exhibit on the human figure. One huge painting, Sabra and Shatila, by Iraqi artist Dia al-Azzawi, portrays the 1982 massacre in camps in Beirut  of Palestinian refugees by Lebanese Christian Phalangists. It's horrific, not in its initial effect but as realisation of its import grows. A little reminiscent of Picasso's Guernica. Jean Genet also visited the same camps after the massacre and spoke of the "thick white smell of death."

Back to Indian Veg - this time with airplane sized bottles of wine, for which the restaurant cheerfully provides wine glasses.

Tuesday, November 6/2012

Tube to Wimbledon - no need to change - and then train to Thames Ditton. Jenny has Emma's girls. Jasmine (four in January) chats with us until she's off to nursery school. Leila (one and a half) plays a bit, but has a cold and falls asleep with her head on J's shoulder.Doug is back for lunch and we stay until Jenny is leaving to collect Jasmine. busy, but lots of chat in between.

Monday, November 5/2012

Plan to go to the Saatchi Gallery for a photography exhibit but when we arrive the gallery is closed for a private event of some description. so plan B - the serendipitous takes over. We notice an advertisement for an exhibit at the Science Museum - on the work of Dr Alan Turing. Turing was responsible for much of the breaking of the wartime Enigma code. there are three of the original Enigma machines on display, as well as the Pilot Ace computer, for which Turing wrote the specs in 1945. The computer was completed in 1950 and is massive - about ten feet by four, with dozens of little light up circuit lamps - and probably less computing power than the mini tablet in my handbag. Turing was a pioneer in the world of computers but came to a sad end, committing suicide after legally imposed efforts to change his sexuality by female hormone treatment intended to reduce libido and reverse homosexuality. A sad waste of a great mind.

Guy Fawkes Day. Most fireworks seem to have been on the weekend. there are some parks with displays tonight but we don't go. We do go to the Indian Veg for dinner though. It's a quirky little restaurant in Chapel Market near Angel tube station. An amazing little place that's always busy, clearly attracts regulars, and can always squeeze in a couple of extra people. Open seven days a week from noon until 11:30, it serves a vegan buffet for  £4.95, always with delicious hot dishes, salads, rice, dhal and side bits, like chapatis and balti mix. They don't have a licence, but are happy to have you bring your own wine or even a tin of lager if  you prefer, available from a supermarket round the corner. Delicious.

Sunday, November 4/2012

Wake ten minutes before the mobile alarm, which has been set for six. There`s a tiny bit of rain but we layer up and take the umbrellas - off to see the beginning of the Brighton to London run, the worldès oldest motoring event, begun 116 years ago. All 500 cars are pre-1905 and a few of them pass us on Bayswater Road as we walk to Hyde Park in the pre-dawn, their small frames and spluttering cylinders seeming very vulnerable in the mercifully thin early Sunday traffic, the rear lights mere pricks of red in the headlights of a double-decker bus.

Gathering in the park, they look considerably jauntier, brightly painted and decorated with brass. there's a huge variety, no two alike. the largest are four cylinders and the smallest one we see is little more than a tricycle, raising the question of the point at which a vehicle is declared a car. A happy variety of drivers and passengers as well, some in period dress and others, more prudently, in waterproofs. It will be a cold run for those without rain gear as the rain is heavier now and few cars are closed in. Some of the unprotected woolly clothes must be sodden before their owners reach the start line. And Brighton, sixty some miles away, is a three hour journey for these cars. but everyone is cheerful, repacking the wicker trunks, checking the engines, enjoying a last cup of coffee. A steam engine billows a fog at us and some cars get push starts.

There are some famous drivers here, we know, mingling in with the others. Racing great Sir Stirling Moss is driving with his wife in a 1903 car that has done the run thirty-five times, and Nick Mason, drummer for Pink Floyd , is driving a 1901 five litre Panhard. Mason has driven in the run every year since 1985 and says his passion for cars predates his inolvement with music. Motoring rugs covered with pastic, rain dripping from broad-brimmed leather hats, tiny squeeze bulb horns tooting and they're off. And we back by tube from Hyde Park corner to dry off ourselves.
Motorsport not over for the ay, as noon brings coverage of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix - a close race with a surprise Raikkonen win.

Overheard at Waterloo Station: You don't get it - the police want ME.

Saturday, November 3/2012

To our Starbucks office in the morning for filter coffees and internet. J with the Saturday Guardian and I with the Playbook, on which I download a London map. Not everyone buys as much as a filter coffee. The man at the little table next to us has no coffee at all but is sustained by a packet of chocolate covered digestive biscuits - currently on special offer next door at Sainsbury's for  £1.

In the afternoon we go down to Regent Street to see the cars on exhibit before tomorrow's annual London to Brighton car run. They're wonderful - dating from the earliest years of the 20th century (all before 1905). Brass headlamps gleaming like little hurricane lanterns and old-fashioned bicycle style horns. Most of them are open-topped and all of them full of personality - many with names like Annabel and Edwin. Some are accompanied by drivers in period costume and a woman in an old style scarf-tied motoring hat retrieves some food from a wicker basket fixed to the side of her car. Most seem to be two cylinder; sometimes, astonishingly, only one. Six point five is a typical horsepower.

Back up to Oxford Street to take the tube to Camden Town. On the pavement a large sign proclaims that America is Ending - according to God. No shortage of apocalyptic vision here and plenty of people to receive it - almost too crowded to walk. As it is on Camden High Street, though it's a little less crazy  heading down to Lidl and the charity shops than following the young people in the other direction, toward Camden Market.

A bus from Camden High Street to Kilburn High Road and an early meal at Roses. We've gone intending to have fish and chips, which are always excellent here, with golden breaded fillets extending over the rim of generously sized plates. But when we sit down, the man at the next table is being served a succulent lamb kleftiko and J can't resist ordering the same. So I go with the fish and chips and we share both dishes. Two veg and roast potatoes with the lamb, and nothing that has seen the inside of a freezer. We share a portion of cheesecake for dessert for a total of  £13 (€16 or $20.50 CAD - Canadians note that includes tax). Roses has quite a varied menu, most of which they can produce on any given occasion, and their dinners would feed two people of modest appetite. IJ once sent his compliments to the chef, who had cooked perfectly an enormous fish fillet of varying thickness.

 Midway between Hallowe'en and Guy Fawkes Day and costume occasionally evident: a young woman on the tube in pink dress with full skirt and ballet shoes with platform soles and pink-streaked hair, as well as a man in red cape on the street corner waving his sword.

Home in time for special TV programs celebrating the life and work of Eric Sykes. Though I loved watching his comedies in the 60's (black and white), I'm ashamed to realise that he ony died this year and not long ago - aged 89 and performing almost to the end despite profound deafness and, in the end, complete blindness. A master of facial expression and timing and his work as impressive now as it was sixty years ago - the writing as timeless as the acting. The last film in which he appeared was, to the delight of his grandchildren, one of the Harry Potters.

Friday, November 2/2012

Back along Queensway. Scarves, mugs, and souvenirs for sale outside the shops. Luggage on display, phone unlocking,  currency exchanges. fish pedicures  £10. And the restaurants. The bronze coloured chickens hanging in the window of The New Fortune Cookie. The same ones as last year? My favourite sign reads Brazilian Buffet by Kilo - modern cuisine at its best. This in a warren of shops and cafés with signs in Polish, Arabic and Russian. The hair stylist advertises cuts at  £7 under the name of Polscy Fryzjerzy. Odds are the sign was designed by a Russian, as the first word should be "Polski" but the Russian alphabet lacks a k. Café Albroush promises traditional Sudanese food and Sam's Gold & Silver offers to sell, buy and repair, just across from the Psychic Mews.

Outside, the Catholic church, Our Lady Queen of Heaven, requests that rubbish not be dumped behind its iron railings, as well as giving Brazilian Mass times. And on the other side of the road caftans from the middle east are on offer near London's Only Ice Rink and Bowl. J has picked up a Metro at the tube station as I potter along the road and he takes it across the Bayswater Road to a bench in Hyde Park to read. I join him, passing the little black three wheeled truck selling coffee on the sidewalk - "not just coffee it's London's finest." The sign says "not for profit" and indeed the café Americano is only  £1.

In the afternoon out to West Harrow to see Jean and enjoy a delicious mutton curry. Time for a visit before Shanthi arrives to share the meal and get caught up. then Priya joins us after her evening class - delighted because she has just sold a  £1000 Calvin Klein watch at her part time job, and made her November quota on the second day.

Thursday, November 1/2012

Down to Trafalgar Square to do the banking. On the other side of the square Canada House has not yet reopened. When? Three months or maybe a year, we're told by a man unlocking the door. Can he really have said "when the high commissioner comes back"? Must have misheard. In front of the National Gallery there's a poppy blitz on, with a pipe band, a Harley Davidson and three double-decker buses - one of them a routemaster, boarded a few minutes earlier by Prince Charles when the convoy stopped at St James's Palace on its fundraising run.
Up to Kilburn High Road in the evening for dinner. Our regular pub and its regular specials - seafood basket (me) and cottage pie (J). Two for  £6.49.

Wednesday, October 31/2012

 Back in London, at the Baron's Hotel, just off Queensway, and out rediscovering the percolating street from the first tube station down by Hyde Park to our corner by the flower market where a black man sways as he plays Mancini on the trombone.  There are two pubs and more restaurants than we can easily count -  several each of Asian (Chinese and Indian), Lebanese, Russian, Brazilian - as well as a steakhouse and a contingent of at least six of the usual fast food chains. Sadly, the Tesco around the corner is gone. surprisingly, too, as it was always crowded with long queues of locals taking their  fruit and vegetables, pastries and bottles of wine, to the multiple checkouts.

Sunday, April 22/2012

Concert in the afternoon at the Royal Albert Hall - beautiful, ornate, round building with good acoustics (well, reviews are mixed but we were happy). It's not sold out and so we're offered free upgrades from the circle - good view but pretty high up - to the stalls. It's a St George's Day concert with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Anthony Inglis conducts - with flair and wit - and Claire Moore as soprano soloist. We're delighted to find John Humphrys is presenting as promised (looked for a moment as if he would be replaced). The concert is much in the style of the last night at the summer proms. There's popular and sometimes patriotic music from Elgar, Handel and others (including the Hallelujah kChorus) and we wind up with Land of Hope and Glory. Everyone singing by then and lots of flag waving (St George's flags having been included in the programs). red and white balloons released from the ceiling at the finale. Really fun.

Walk to the Nag's Head in Knightsbridge for a half pint afterwrd. another on my A list, though pretty crowded with surprisingly young drinkers. quirky, though, with the walls completely covered with old photographs and the ceiling all flag and collage, and, as J says, looking like it's going to fall in.

J fancies fish and chips for the last night, so we head back to Kilburn High road. again, the fish at roses is perfectly done and the fillet enormous. Plates are (I surreptitiously measure) thirteen and a half by eleven inches and it takes a bit of eating before the fillet isn't longer than the plate! Mushroom starters and cheesecake afterward (both shared - and not to save money as the prices are amazing but to have hop.e of finishing).

Then it`s home and time to pack up.

Saturday, April 21/2012

To the South Bank to meet Jenny and Emma and Emma's little girls. Coffee (and juice for Jasmine) inside the National Theatre's big comfortable cafeteria cum listening space. Leila, aged nearly one, is very busy seeing how her cup works with and without its lid, paper napkins inside, etc. Jenny (and Doug) just back from a few days in Germany. Emma has just started back to work after maternity leave. Nice to chat.

In the evening to Kolossi Grill with Alexander and Flora. It's a Cypriot restaurant just south of angel tube station - small and friendly. share meze starters - very good taramasalata - and then lamb. Kleftiko melts in the mouth like butter. excellent. There's a painting of Kolossi Castle on the wall. Interesting as we were in the castle in January. Nice to be able to talk to A and F as well.

Friday, April 20/2012

Stop at the bank, Charing Cross branch, to arrange (successfully we hope) to have the debit cards replaced with ones tht expirein the spring when we're home rather than in the winter when we're away. there are a finite number of tickable boxes - the young man tilts the screen so we can see - so our cards are listed as damaged. Does seema bit lame that they would both be, but whatever works.

Bus from Trafalgar to the War Museum, but we see it goes out the Old Kent Road to a large Tesco - so we check it out, as the large ones don't exist in the city centre. Then back to the museum.  There's an exhibition on following one large (ten children!) South London family through the war years. There's a lovely scale model of their house - from bread on the table to chamber pots under the bed. Then displays of rtions and ration books, clothing, gas masks and government advice, as well as info on evacuation, women's work, nutrition, etc. There are short film clips and it's also interesting listening to some of the comments and memories of others at the exhibition.

Our plan is to go to the Spitfire restaurant on Fulham Palace Road. it's a Polish restaurant with really good reviews and we've had our eye on it for a couple of years now. A bit confusing to access from Hammersmith tube station as you exit at the back of the mall and go under the flyover - and ti's raining. But when we get there (only a couple of blocks) we find that the restaurant is empty - and to let. We've waited too long.

Instead we go to the café in the Polish cultural centre. It's a nice place with a fair variety of comfort food. J has the beef goulash and I the perogies - very nice ones too. That would have been plenty, but J persuades me - minimal arm twisting necessary - to have an apple szarlotke as well. Reminds us both of J's mother's baking.

Thursday, April 19/2012

Camden town for a bit of shopping - mostly browsing the charity shopps. And in the afternoon we check out one of the pubs on my A list. It's the Mitre (more completely, Ye Olde Mitre, and old enough that the name isn't just fanciful), at the end of a lane of Hatton Gardens. The lane is entered through a door that's closed when we arrive. does mention the brewer, but we would never have gone in if we hadn't known. The pub is small but picturesque. The two separate rooms don't link up, though the bar in the middle serves both. All dark wood and reproduction period portraits. Is that Elizabeth I in the corner? Maybe we're basing the assumption oon costume. Amazingly the pub does date back that far - to 1546. The lounge on the other side is tiny but cosy and has small panes of old glass. It's full - with drinkers spilling out and sitting on the upturned barrels in the courtyard.

We're intending to hit another A list pub, stopping on the way to pick up an Economist at the nearby LSE (where it's a pound cheaper than elsewhere). It's been showering off and on - increasingly on - and turns into heavy rain. So we abandon pub number 2 and also our plans for eating out. Just doesn't feel worth the stormy walk, even with umbrellas. We'll picnic in after a hot cup of tea. By the time we reach Queensway there's thunder and lightning and we're happy to be in with tea and telly.

Fascinating documentary on our newly enhanced television. The story, accompanied by quite a lot of period home filming, of Jutta and Helmuth Cords, a Jewish girl and a German soldier, who fell in love near the beginning of the war and were the first couple to be married in Berlin after the end of the war. They later emigrated to the States. Narrated by the wife, still very sharp.

Wednesday, April 18/2012

To Holland Park to look at Tony Benn's former house which has a plaque on it honouring his wife Caroline; educator, writer and socialist. A nice terrace house with a little picket fence and a garden someone has taken some time with in the past. Also an interesting example of what now goes for over  £3 million - but presumably didn't sixty years ago.

Take a look at the new 3D televisions not requiring glasses at John Lewis. Interesting concept (by Sanyo) but still needs work. Focus not always good, especially on writing. There's quite a bit of ghosting. Simply not good enough for over £3000 - though the idea of going sans glasses is attractive. there's an LG one with glasses that's better, but still uneven - sometimes impressive but at other times rather like a large viewmaster.

On Kilburn High Road J buys a pair of shoes - good black oxfords - on sale for £30. And since we're on the road we stop for supper at Roses - roast lamb, roast potatoes and two veg for J - similar for me but with chicken. Humus and pita starter and cheesecake (decadent but shared) for dessert.

Some time after 9 the man arrives to put in the black box for the great digital switchover. so we suddenly have a great picture and dozens of channels - some junk but quite a lot of good ones. Ironic, as we're in a city where there's endless interest and stimulation without television.

Tuesday, April 17/2012

The forecast is for showers, but they space themselves pretty conveniently. we do a bit of outdoor exploration. Bentinck Street, parallel to OxfordStreet, has been home to quite a few notable people, though it`s a very short street. Anthony Blunt and Guy Burgess lived at number 5 at one point. It`s still there but shrouded as the renovation works are in progress. Gibbon wrote Decline and Fall at number 7 (unlike the spies`abode it`s marked with a blue plaque). chopin lived briefly at number 10, and Dickens for a time at number 18. The interior of number 18 is gone - totally demolished - but the facade is still standing, awaiting a new building to face.

A few blocks away, on Wimpole Street we spot the building where the young Paul McCartney lived above his then girlfriend`s family. We`ve read that Lennon wrote I Want to Hold Your Hand in the basement. Wimpole street is more famous, of course, as the place where Elizabeth Barrett lived before being rescued by, and married to, robert Browning the house is no longer there, but a plaque marks the place where it stood.

we`re very close to the Wallace Collection, so, after a quick look inside St James`s Catholic Church, Spanish Place, we go to visit it. It`s in a remarkable place. The house, originally a private home, holds the collection of five generations of the same family. It rivals many national galleries in both the quantity and the quality of the paintings, an amazing classical collection. It`s known for Hals`painting of The Laughing Cavalier. It`s an intriguing portrait, and the subject has a very modern face, apart from the period moustache. He`s not actually laughing, though. It`s a knowing smile - one of shared irony or even assignation.

Our last stop in the area is number 34 Montague Square. It`s supposed to be where Ringo Starr had a flat. We`re surprised to see a blue plaque, as they`re not awarded to the living - but when we get closer we see that John Lennon lived there as well for a time in the sixties.

We`re tired and getting hungry, so get a bus on Baker Street that`s headed to Waterloo. It`s slow moving, but that does give us time to focus where we might not otherwise. we`re parked in a jam on Regent Street when we see a round green plaque marking Lord Stanley`s purchase from a silversmith on this site, of a silver cup "for the people of Canada to commemorate amateur and professional hockey." It`s been a while since amateurs had a crack at it. J thinks the last may have been the Kenora Thistles.

From Waterloo by tube and Docklands Light Railway and to Greenwich, where we stop at our second Oxfam charity shop of the day. The first was on Marylebone Lane - a huge one dedicated to books and music. this one is all books as well, and there are some we'd really like to have, including a signed one by Roy Hattersley. but they're too big and heavy, and reluctantly we leave them.

What we've really come for is our second visit to Goddard's pie shop. this time we have the crumble - J apple and I rhubarb. Still the best, with the custard filling the bowl and the soup plaate in which the bowl sits. It's been six years since they closed in Greenwich but the crumble hasn't changed. This is it. We can barely finish it - and the girl had said to come back if we wanted more custard. Two pounds seventy (three euros six, $4.32), tax included. Amazing.

Stop at Crossharbour, thinking as usual of Conrad Black - Lord Black of Crossharbour. will he ever come back? Buy a top up for the UK mobile. Then home.

Monday, April 16/2012

To the Courtauld Institute in the morning as itès free until 2pm on Mondays. We start with the late medieval room. Interesting the traditions in painting infants - so many of them are ugly and, stranger, they often look like miniature adults. It's not that the artists  had never seen a baby or that they weren't able to draw well - so what was the statement?  There are some beautiful altar pieces  here as well, andsome lovely ivory miniatures.

The second floor has quite a number of Rubens' works. He's a much more varied painter than we'd realised. A landscape looks quite unlike the portraits, and J points out that his work changed after he'd been to Italy and come under the influence of Italian Renaissance painters. The top floor has old friends as well, like Manet's Bar at the Folies Bergère. There are a few Dégas works that we think of as typical, as well as a quite shocking painting of a woman in a window. Well, the story is shocking. Dégas painted it during the Siege of Paris and paid the model with a chunk of meat which she fell on immediately and ate raw. There is a special Mondrian exhibition on, but we`re not really Mondrian fans - and we`re full up. J disappointed that Blunt's living quarters are not on display.

Catch up time at our Starbucks office, while J takes a long walk in Hyde Park. Really this is a pleasant place to work. Comfortable chairs and I like the music. Decide to eat supper in the room and go in to Tesco just as they`re marking down - delicious couscous and chicken salads, a prawn sandwich, and fruit cups all for about a pound and a half. We get cherry tomatoes and oranges as well. A lovely supper in with the telly.

Sunday, April 15/2012

The Chinese Grand Prix is on BBC1 with coverage beginning at 7, so we watch.  J wisely gets up but I watch from bed, which means I sleep through the first part. Exciting win for Nico Rosberg.

We'd thought about going to Petticoat Lane street market this morning but there's a bitterly cold wind (though it's sunny) so we start thinking indoor thoughts. Go down to Bayswater Road to catch a bus to Euston Road for the Wellcome Collection. And we're immediately diverted into further outdoor walking, as almost the whole of Bayswater Road, on the Hyde Park side, has become a free Sunday gallery - the longest, it says, in the world. We're not seriously tempted to buy, but it's fun and the offerings are quite varied - London scenes, abstracts, flowers, traditional pub signs, and some witty drawings. Back on the bus and - with a brief practical shopping stop on Oxford Street - over to the Wellcome.

The exhibition is on the human brain. There are posters about the city advertising it, including one mentioning vinegar and brown paper as an old headache cure, which stirs a memory in my mind of the seldom quoted second verse of the nursery rhyme Jack and Jill:

Then up Jack got and home did trot 
As fast as he could caper.
Went to bed and wrapped his head
In vinegar and brown paper.

Hadn't thought of that in years. The exhibit has models and videos and historicl material. There are several references to the pioneering work of a Dr Cushing, including one article that mentions his mentor, the Canadian Sir William Osler. Osler was also the mento of Dr Wilder Penfield, the neurosurgeon who operated on my paternal grandfather in the 1930's.

Back to Chapel Market in Islington and the Indian Veg restaurant for another vegan buffet. then home to read our fat Sunday Times.


 

Saturday, April 14/2012

By tube to Jean's for a chat and tea before going to Shanthi's where we've been invited to tea in honour of Tamil New Year. Shanthi's friend Shirley (from Singapore - knkown her ever since she was born) is here with her two daughters, Laura - enjoying her first job with a PR firm - and kSophie - aged 12. And shanthi's daughter Priya is here of course - her time now split getting retail experience with Abercrombie and Fitch and with Calvin Klein. We're all impressed with the jewellery the latter gives her to wear in her job at Brent Cross Mall.

We begin with Asian sweets - with Tamil names we don't quite get. There's a golden soft crumbly dough, almond flavoured sweets, and crispy deep fried ones. Then to the dining table where we have a hot noodle dish, tuna sandwiches, fried chicken legs, mutton rolls (delicious, like spicy spring rolls with a lamb filling and a slightly crunchy exterior) and cake and tea. A Singapore high tea, the girls recognize. Shanthi urges more, but we're all happily full. Lovely visit.

Jean drops us near Rayer's Lane tube station - and in front of a grocery shop that sells Turkish products and J is delighted to find packets of the Turkish red pepper (biber) flakes that he loves.

Friday, April 13/2012

Lucky draw from the hat of possibilities on Friday the thirteenth. We decide to go to Hogarth's  house in Chiswick. bit of a walk from Turnham Green station, but an interesting one through Chiswick, now a part of London but in the 18th century, when hogarth lived here, a town on the Thames well outside London. It still has a bit of a village feeling to it, though the house is situated on Hogarth Lane, which is a lane in name only. It's a dual carriageway which becomes, a little to the west, the M4 . There are paintings here that show it as it once was, though - a country lane.

The real fun in the place, though, is the engravings, someof which are the originals. satirical, indiscreet, and as busy as a giles cartoon. The Rake's Progress with the weeping pregnant fiancée in the doorway. And all the peripheral characters, like the chimney sweep poking his head out the chimney, the syphillitic child, or the monkey in the corner peeing into a helmet. There are dark themes but very funny caricatures illustrating them. I've always wanted a copy of Gin Lane, and they do have the posters, but no tubes. So we opt for Hogarth placemats instead.

We're a ten minute walk from St Nicholas Church where Hogarth and his wife and sisters are buried, so we go over to look. The church is a nineteenth century rebuild but the tower is fifteenth century and the records go back to the twelfth century. The assumption is that there was originally a Saxon church on the site. We're fortunate to meet one of the wardens in the churchyard, who shows us the Hogarth tomb and also points us to where Whistler and his wife are buried. The latter is an interesting tomb with resin figures at the corners replacing original and replacement bronze ones - both sets having been stolen.

Round the corner from the church is the George and Devonshire, a Chiswick pub dting back to the 1650's. In fact it's the only pub left of the original Chiswick village establishments. We stop for half pints of the Fuller's Pride brewed locally. There have been some changes in decor over time. The jukebox style gambling apparatus with flashing lights isn't period. The fireplace may be original but the empty Pinot Giorgio bottles on it are a late and fairly unimpressive addition. Historically the pub had a smugglers' tunnel leading to the Thames and apparently the steps leading to it are still there in the cellar.

Dinner is in Islington - a place I've found googling. It's a real keeper. Indian Veg on Chapel Market, just north of the Angel station. It's quirky and friendly. The walls are covered with vegetarian facts, figures and advice. Small tables with tablecloths and a sign announcing that you're welcome to bring your own wine without corkage fee. (All right. I confess that I googled "very cheap" and "no corkage.") But it's wonderful. an absolutely delicious eat all you like vegan buffet. It's amazing, healthy - and f£4.95 a person.

Home by tube. At Bayswater Station an underground worker with a brush is busy sweeping up what turns out to be large white dominoes from the stairs.

Thursday, April 12/2012

To HSBC to sort things out. A separate method of having the cards verified by Visa, which makes them usable online, but is becoming a pain. The young man does give Joe a little key for generating access numbers as well, though.

In the afternoon to Chris Mullin's play A Walk-On Part: The Fall of New Labour. It's at the Soho Theatre, which is small, seating about 150 in the upstairs theatre. The seats are comfortable, but more or less cushioned benches with backs - but no arms, allowing more people to be squeezed in. Works nicely for this play though, as it mirrors the seating in the British House of Commons. The seating isn't assigned and we're there early enough to get centre front, a highly desirable location in this intimate theatre because we're seated at stage level.

The play is heavily based on Mullin's political diaries, one of which we've recently read, and covers his 23 years as a labour MP, endiing with his resignation at the time of the last election. It's very funny, often very indiscreet, occasionally poignant. And there's absolutely no downtime - no looking at your watch or wondering where to go for dinner. There are only five actors - one to play Mullin and four (two men and two women) to play all the rest, and they're very good. No props other than straight backed chairs and a screen at  the back of the stage that serves, variously, as window on the House, photos of politicians and announcement of dates. The script itself is good - the best bits culled from the diaries, but the facial expressions and body anguage are wonderful. Amazing that the same person (Hywel Morgan) can play Tony Blair - brilliantly - and Tony Benn (amongst others) convincingly. Or, as in the third male character (Howard Ward), John Prescott and George Bush. John Hodgkison as Mullin, is impressively energetic and witty. The audience loves it.

Back to Roses (apostrophe not forgotten - it's as in flowers not as in belonging to Rose) on Kilburn High Road for lamb kleftiko (a whole leg and beautifully done with roast potatoes and 2 veg) and spaghetti bolgnese. A bit busier tonight but probably entirely people living within a mile or two of the restaurant. As far as we can make out, the specials aren't special in price but are guaranteed to be something they have. They're a bit like a Polish restaurant menu in that the meny lists all the dishes they ever have and you have to ask what is available. But then all the prices are astonishingly good anyway.

Wednesday, April 11/2012

Observation on public transportation: young white men are theleast likely people to give up their seats to the elderly - or to me, not that I require it. I do have seats offered tome more than in previous years though, for whatever reason. The most likely to give up seats are Asian men of almost any age, followed by young Middle Eastern men and young Asian women, followed (at some distance) by young white women. Observations unscientific but accurate, I think.

Tube to Camden Town and then bus to Hampstead Heath, as we've noted that our one year tickets to Keats House expire on Sunday. the house is the one Keats lived in with a friend just before his final illness sent him to Italy in search of a warm climate and a cure. His fiancée, Fanny, lived in the other half of the house, since made into one. Even though we've been before, it's a moving experience, and interesting too for things like the 18th century kitchen and the sole water supply from a cistern on the roof to a lead sink. Add this to a diet which seemed to consist mostly of meat and white bread (vegetables having only recently been declared not dangerous) and it's hardly surprising that so many people succumbed to disease, quite apart from the lack of modern medicine.

Supper at an Asian buffet by the Kilburn High Road tube station. Not exciting, but not at all bad. Chicken satay very nice. Spring rolls and samosas pretty useless.

Last bit home is the tube from Notting Hill Gate to Bayswater. A man gets into our carriage and grabs three abandoned Evening Standards. He's not quite quick enough to jump off before the doors close, so, having been obliged to come to Bayswater, he alights and rummages through two litter bins, retrieving several more copies of the Evening Standard to add to at lest ten in his bag. J suggests that he may want extra copies of a particular article, and it's plausible, but the paper is distributed free and theman looks obsessed.

Tuesday, April 10/2012

Check out the Notting Hill pub Harry took us to many years ago. We find it on Campden Hill Road. too early in the day now, but marked down for future reference.

By tube to connect with Dockland Light Railway. when we get off to change at Bank St they're announcing delays on the Central line, which we've just left, as there's a person under a train at the west end of the line. This is not an uncommon occurrence, usually suicide of course.

We're off to Greenwich again. This time we have an agenda, but it takes us a while to reach the National Maritime Museum. On the way, we detour through the Old Royal Naval College. The painted hall is impressive trompe d'oeuil, looking three dimensional, and dates from the beginning of the 18th century, or at least the painting does. there's a small room off the painted hall where Lord Nelson's coffin lay before the official lying in state.

But the greater interest today is in what's going on outside the Naval College. As we're heading towards the college we first spot a man in the distance crossing a square wearing pre Vatican II ecclesiastical robes. Then we see a great many trailers as well as people in period costume. And finally, most impressively, an absolutely enormous statue, much larger than life size, of an elephant. It's a film shoot, of course.  Turns out they're shooting Les Miserables. Though how the elephant fits in....

Then to the National Maritime Museum and the agenda.  J is looking for a large model of the Uganda, a ship that he took students on for one year's Mediterranean cruise.  It was later used in the Falkland War as a hospital ship - andwe did see the model on a previous visit.  But everything is in flux here and Olympic oriented, and the Uganda is no longer on display.

I've also come with a question.  My 6x great grandparents emigrated fro Germany via Rotterdam in 1709.  This was part of a scheme for acquiring labourers in the New World on behalf of the English navy.  The reward was English citizenship.  Between leaving Rotterdam and sailing to New York, the emigrants spent the winter of 1709 in England.  There were three caps - at Deptford, Camberwell and Blackheath, and I'm hoping to learn their locations.  The short answer is "lots of luck."

So we drift along to some of Greenwich's other charms.  The halcyon Bookshop has most of its books selling for a pound. At first we assume that the shop has been abandoned, misled by sacks of books blocking the aisles and heaps of them cascading onto the floor.  But no, it's open, and we browse for a while through the unsorted shelves.  Then, a few doors up the road, there's the Junk Shop. It's a series of tiny rooms, on two levels, with an uncountable number of old things.  Some possibly antique, many period or collectible, some more or less junk.  And there are thousands of them, from books to jewellery to kitsch to poison bottles (for holding poisonous contents, one assumes). Fascinating.

We finish up at Goddard's pie shop, now officially open, having chicken and mushroom pies with mash and gravy. Can't hold the desserts. Are the pies the same as we remember? Is the plate smaller, the scrubbed wood tables gone? Not sure, but the pies are good and at similar price to the ones we remember.

Monday, April 9/2012

Morning trip to the British Library, chosen for its proximity to the tube station - rain doesn't matter much. The BL has two of the four copies of the Magna Carta in existence, so we focus there. In the afternoon check out the theatre listings from the comfort of Starbucks. It's pretty full. The man next to me has taken off his shoes, leaving grubby feet on the cold floor. Looks like he's here for the duration. But we do find a free plug. Then down to the Soho theatre off Oxford St to get tickets for Chris Mullin's A Walk On Part - The Fall of New Labour. Mullin was a Labour backbencher and we've just finished reading and enjoying one of his political diaries - A View from the Foothills. This play is unique in that it actually played once at the House of Commons, at the invitation of the Speaker.

There's a small bit of comedy as we leave the theatre. We're approached by a cheerful man bearing copies of the Big Issue, the magazine produced and sold by the unemployed. "It's your lucky day," he begins. "Because I'm not selling anything." Naturally we're intrigued. "I'm accepting donations for me to have a beer on my way home." Ear to eear grin. "It's St Alan's Day. We confess that we haven't heard of St Alan but he's sure, and not a bit abashed. I fish in my pocket. "Would 20 p be of any help?" "Yes, indeed." So off he goes, and we're still chuckling a block later.

Finish up with a meal at Roses on Kilburn High Road. Unlike some of the pubs, they are indeed doing food today. And every day. It's a small restaurant with a laarge menu and huge portions. Excellent food and quiet local clientele. We opt for two courses and then begin to question our wisdom. J's chicken and broccoli fettucine is delicious and substantial and my fish and chips enormous. The fish fillet ust be 18 inches long. J says maybe 20. It's also cooked to perfection, which must have involved keeping the tail end out initially. J, who inherits more than half of it, says it's probably the best cooked deep fried fish he's eaten - and he's a very good fish fryer himself. We shouldn't be able to hold the apple pie and custard, but  it's good and we do. Total price, with large mugs of tea, £14.50 (€17.69, $22.91). Tax included, and we shouldn't have to eat for days. 

Sunday, April 8/2012

Relatively early, if drizzly, Easter start, as the rail lines are full of engineering works, buses replacing trains, etc. work out a plan to go via Wimbledon instead of Waterloo, which looks muchmore efficient, so we pick up bunches of narcissi from the little flower market outside the pub on the corner and head off. At Wimbledon we transfer to a bus replacing a train at an unmarked bus stop. Does he go to Thames Ditton (as promised by National Rail website)? No, we'll have to change at Surbiton. Well, it's wwell along the way. Walkable from there in a inch. And if the second bus were as slow as the first walking would have been attractive. The only other passenger is a girl who makes repeated phone calls - "I have the sugar but I'm on a bus that's moving like a snail." In Kingston we pass the cattle market car park twice. Is it different entrances or are we circling? Jenny remembers when she was a child and it actually was a cattle market.

But we arrive, and without being rained on. Lovelly Easter brunch. Jenny and Doug have the perfect dining table. It seems to seat an infinite number - fourteen of us here anyway - Laura and the boys, Emma and Giles and their girls, Jenny's mother and aunt, as well as Jenny, Doug and us. Jasmine 9aged 3) has helped to make the Middle Eastern date rings. Jenny's grandmother was Palestinian Christian and so are some of the recipes. The coloured eggs are hard-boiled and we play a traditional family game where we tap ends of our eggs with the others to see if anyone ends up with an uncracked egg. Cody (also aaged 3) is too young to remember last Easter but emerges with a winning egg.

After brunch there's an Easter egg hunt for the children in the garden - chocolate eggs this time. The dogs, who would have been happy to help, have been penned but watch with keen interest. Doug's sister Kathleen and her husband arrive, so we stay to say hello bud then head off.

Just as well we didn't go earlier as the earlier bus didn't come - we're informed by a man waiting for t?) he 3:40 along with us. We chat. He's been to Canada in the 70's when he (or his band?) toured with Nazareth. Home trip smooth - and back with the Sunday Times, more than a day`s read.

Saturday, April 7/2012

Re-establish the Starbucks Office. Not bad - good coffee, comfortable chairs next to plugs for the computer, and nobody hurrying you. and open on a long weekend when the library isn't.


down to the British Museum. It's holiday crowded so we do our usual - opt for a look at one area we haven't visited before, in this case Assyria, about 8th to 9th century BC. First of all I have to ask J where Assyria was when it was at home - answer, more or less Iraq. there are very Egyptian looking statues, including huge (12 foot high?) lions with human heads that once guarded a palace entrance. Also a large number of elaborately carved stone wall panels that lined palace walls and were inexpertly removed to be taken to another palace some 2700 years ago. They've been amazingly well restored though, and record past battles, domestic life, royal life etc, both in pictures and in extensive writing.


Try to check out the Mary Ward Centre near Russell Square. It's an educational facility, but with a good gallery and café - unfortunately closed for the Easter break. Stop off in Camden town. Then pub supper and home with fat weekend paper to read. We`ve missed the Oxford and Cambridge boat race and it was dramatic. Interrupted by a swimmer protesting elitism. A radio 4 presenter refers to it drily as a "race hate crime."

Friday, April 6/2012

Tube system a bit altered for the weekend, though not badly. Down to Earl's Court for a wander round. Nothing looks especially new and interesting. Warm on the sunny side of the street. In the afternoon we go to Trafalgar Square where there's a re-enactment of the crucifixion scheduled. cast not of thousands, but of 100 plus. We do wait quite a while for it to start, but the people watching is good. The squarae is crowded, with tourists mainly. It's sunny and there are buskers - a girl playing the violin and men being living statues - one all silver and one gold. The gold sttue wanders back to the National Gallery for a smoke break, beaked mask removed, before heading back to his pedestal. There's some technical problem and they explain the play will have to restart. we've been here for about an hour enjoying the crowd, but we can't really see the stage - just the screen - so this is our exit cue.

Up by Leicester Square, in the process of being revamped (the square, not us). it's supposed to reopen this month, but if the loud drilling and the mess is any indication the target is optimistic. Through china town and down to Covent Garden. St. Paul's, the Actors' Church, there has a vigil Mass scheduled for 9 tomorrow evening to be followed by a "Resurrection Party". Sounds like a brilliant idea but 9 is a bit late for the start,not just for us pensioners but for the tube system if it's a post-midnight finish.

Thursday, April 5/2012

Walk across Hyde Park and along to the royal Albert Hall to buy tickets for a Proms style concert on April 22, our last day here.

In the afternoon out to Jean's in West Harrow. We take her the Benn diary (hard cover) and the four books of the Raj Quartet, so things should be much lighter now, although the Jaworskis, like nature, seem to fill any vacuum when travelling.

Samosas and other Indian appetizers from Jean's handy off licence. We chat until Shanthi joins us after work and then have a lovely curry meal that Jean has made  - lamb, leeks, sweeet potato, green beans, salad, dhal and beautiful fragrant rice. Followed by apple crumble and custard. We won't need to eat again for days. Beautiful meal! Before we know it it's after ten and we're on the tube back.

Wednesday, April 4/2012

Walking dowon queensway when someone hands me a card in English and Arabic suggesting I consult Yasmina at the Psychic Mews. But we pass up the opportunity to see  the crystal ball read and take the Docklands Light Railway to Greenwich.Takes almost no time to find Goddard's pie shop. It's a shop that's been in the same family  in Greenwich for over a hundred years. They closed a few years ago and went into wholesale, but had always intended to reopen locally and they're about to - tomorrow. We peek through the window - the menu and pries ook pretty much like the old place and it's just the other side of the square.

We also check out the market. It's not the seething place of weekends, but there are a number of stalls open, including one manned by a philosopher who asks if you're willing to draw a philosophical question out of a hat and discuss it. Mine is "Is there such a thing as nothing?" So we do discuss it for a bit. There's a pythonesque aspect to it all, but fun.

Past the Cutty Sark, which is in the final stages of restoration after a fire five years back. There are literally miles (11 of them) of rigging on the 46 metre high mast and the gilt trim gleams. It was a record setter for speed in 1885 - Sydney to London in 67 days. Royal reopening sheduled for the end of the month.

To Kilburn for a meal. Seems a bit odd as we leave the tube station and are handed cards advertising Duke's Comedy Club by a young man saying brightly "Stand up comedy on Good Friday." Down to the Old Bell for vegetable curries and an ale from the April guest ale list - Cumberland.

Tuesday, April 3/2012

Reacquainting ourselves with our part of London. And down to HSBC to try to sort out the retistration for online purchases. Lovely girl called Emily gives me two pages of directions and a nice little gadget for generating sign on numbers.

Up to Camden High Street. Hot cross buns are on sale everywhere. Marks and Sparks are the best.

Monday, April 2/2012

We're at the bus stop with our suitcases when a taxi pulls up and the driver says "five euros to the airport." Done. the usual is well over twice that. Jane's brother and his wife are on the same plane, but we only eet up when we're about to board. flight a bit delayed because of strikes in France (knock on) but quiet and nice enough curry with quite a drinkable red.

At the hotel Genie shows us the room - same one as last time but with improvements. There's a brand new shower and sink.

Sunday, April 1/2012

Last bits - finish reading the Rankin and finish packing. Boxes tied, suitcases done.

Saturday, March 31/2012

Our last Saturday here. It's not cold, but it is very windy. Take a couple of last minute things to the charity shop. WE've thought of ice creams at Harry's Café, but it's too windy to enjoy them so we settle for Cyprus coffees.

Last loaf of sesame rye bread from the bakery and last salad things (and fresh strawberries) from Prinos. We're walking back when a man calls our attention to a tree covered with blossoms with an amazingly beautiful scent. we take one to try to identify. Does smell like jasmine, but one woman suggests Mexican orange - she has one at home - and Kiki also thinks it may be citrus.

Flat looks like disaster zone with drawers and cupboardsopen and emptying, flat surfaces covered, bottlesbeing decanted into smaller and taped for transport or sealed for storage. You'd think we were moving house.

And reading in between. Looks like we may just finish the Rankin. We forget the world wide turn off of lights for ecology and read right through it, so spared moral dilemma.

Friday, March 30/2012

Pre-packing. Should be simple, as the cases are so small, but that doesn't make it any easier. Some things will be boxed for next winter. We too have tried to reduce the volume with limited success. Then spot (not that it's difficult) Arvid and Eva's things packed and labelled on the floor outside the 4th floor lift. thirteen containers occupying an area about 60 feet square. We feel positively Spartan.

Haven't timed the book finishing perfectly either. I seem to be about half finished Anthony Blunt's biography and similar with the Ian Rankin we're reading aloud. Take to London or store for next year?

Thursday, March 29/2012

J confirms with Mr A that next year's rent will be the same as this - and yes, we can have the confirmation in writing.

Last coffee with Margaret down at George's. Quite a crew there, not all of whom we know. Margaret's been lovely and brought us a little fridge magnet with Paphos Castle as a memento. So I'm glad that I've brought along a little container of the lemon curd I made this morning.

Maggi's last day, so we help her move her boxes and cases down to the mezzanine, m lamenting her inability to reduce the number of boxes despite her best intentions.

We take the bus out to Vlachos in the evening. Arrive a little early and go fo a walk nearly to the second road in to Pyla - just past Beau Rivage Hotel, deserted, semi-dismantled, and for sale. When we get back Jane and Bill are there along with Jane's brother and his wife, who are visiting from England Aylsa and Harry arrive and we have a lovely visit and meal. Harry and Aylsa pack up the leftovers for the animals, the multitude of dogs and cats they share their house with. There are birds too, including a couple of baby birds.The breeding is somewhat accidental.  Harry says, seriously, "I don't encourage it." No Cypriot restaurant hurries you, so we're neearly 3 hours. Aylsa and Harry kindly give us a lift home.

Wednesday, March 28/2012

Word spreads that the Norwegians have been told that the rent will be €100 more next year than we're paying this. This in contrast with Mr Andreas having said the price will be the same next year. As J says, there's no particular obligation to ensure that everyone pays the same. On any given airplane passengers have paid a multitude of different fares, depending on how and where they bought their tickets. All the same, it does seem a little unpleasant if the Norwegians, who have been coming to this hotel longer than we have and stay at least as long in a winter, pay more simply because they are less willing to bargain and, if necessary, leave. We knkow we could go to Paphos and pay less, and do like it there, but on the whole we're quite comfortable here and have friends whom we see here as well.

Tuesday, March 27/2012

There's a sign in the lobby advertising free barbecues at the restaurant every Saturday night. The unwritten understanding, of course, is that it's an incentive to go and purchase drinks. So it appears that a family of four staying here, a couple with two rather overweight daughters, left staff flabbergasted by going and eating copiously and then answering the question "what will you have?" with "nothing."

Monday, March 26/2012

Pass three cars parked on the sidewalk - as per usual in Cyprus - with (most unusually) parking tickets affixed to the windshields. New policeman on the beat? The owners will be astonished.

J has coffeeat Harry's and I a lemon ice cream cone. It is indeed good - as good as in Florence, always my gold standard. And, on the theme of gold, J to Zeus (local pronunciation Zefs) to have his gold chain repaired on the spot.

Last game of Scrabble in the evening as M packs up.

Sunday, March 25/2012

Two events on today, and they conflict. There's the Malaysian Grand Prix, which I finally work out - through time changes, both longitudinal and daylight savings - to be at 11 o'clock. Not bad - pubs open and late enough for a Guinness to be drinkable. But there's also an invitation from Mr. Andreas here at the Sunflower, to a meal at 1 o'clock - in apology, it seems, for the construction inconvenience this winter. It's clear that the race won't quite be finished in time for the meal, so that's a write off. Even more definitely when the race is suspended for a while due to torrential rain in Malaysia.

The meal, however, turns out to be better than anticipated. The Norwegians prove to be very friendly and mostly speak some English. We have quite a good chat with Arvid and Eva, who are sitting next to us and also live next door. Andreas is on our other side and on his best behaviour. He and his wife, a sweet young grandmother, talk to us of their grandchildren and Cypriot customs. The salad is good. Followed by a massive plate of rice and shared platters of beef tenderloin and chips. Plenty of beer and wine nd we and the next door Norwegians drinking a South African cabernet sauvignon, and then finishing the bottle of sauvignon blanc that Mr Andreas and his wife had only toyed with. Actually lovely talking to the Norwegians, who are very friendly but clearly find it easier to talk Norwegian to other Norwegians than to talk English with us - though some of them are very fluent in English. And after all that wine and beer and a number of toasts we're all feeling pretty friendly.

As for the race - eventually we find it was an unexpected Ferari win for Alonso. Next two races in London (us, not the races). Question re sports reporting: When have we heard a North American reporter use a phrase like "suffused with poignancy" as I heard this morning (re football and not racing). Is it necessary to place a 200 word vocabulary limit on Canadian sports reporters?

Saturday, March 24/2012

Coffee at Harry's and some of the patrons are eating ice creams and say they're excellent. Maggi and her friend Laurel are slated to join us but don't show, having got waylaid shopping. Stunning coffee spot in front of St Lazarus Church with its lovely Venetian tower.

Planning for London in not much more than a week's time, so googling accordingly. The obvious in the way of galleries, museums and theatres, but also making a list of eating places, as we're not doing our own cooking. Amazing what comes up by googling things like "ridiculously cheap" (along with positive terms, of course) and "BYO + no corkage" is good as well. Lots of Indian and vegeterian spots, but by no means only those. Canadians always seem a bit prim - wanting to say "inexpensive" or "good value." It's quite easy to search for British holidays or restaurants by saying "very cheap" - and there are some real winners in the mix.

Friday, March 23/2012

Meet J at the beach after his morning constitutional. On the way I pass the Avenue, originally hotel apartments and now mostly just apartments. It's surrounded by police tape and fire investigators are there as well, though the building seems to be intact and there ae tenants leaning over their balconies observing. And I remember that there were sirens around one a.m. Later we hear that the fire was started by a cigarette in the reception area.

Down Makenzy (yes, correct local spelling) to look at the paintings on display by local aartists. Jane has some there - and sold one last week. There's also a batik we really like, but like most framed works it's just too big to try to take back. Coffee at Harry's on the way back. J comes home later with half a kilo of fresh picked Derynia strawberries from Prinos.

Thursday, March 22/2012

To the dentist to get our teeth examined and cleaned. No rebate for there being one less tooth to clean, but at €45 each we're not complaining. thought we'd miss Thursday morning coffee, but we're done in time. Lovely soaking in the sun, but sunglasses definitely needed..

Wednesday, March 21/2012

M back from Dubai and we go to Dhekelia for the film. The base gets current films and charges only €4 for students and seniors. The legroom is amazing - estimate a 6 foot pitch from the back of one chair to€ the same point in the row ahead. No difficulty in finding a seat either - exactly thirteen patrons there, almost all at the €4 rate. Hard to know how they do it.

The film itself, though, is, unfortunately horror verging (as horror so easily does) on the silly: The Woman in Black. It's adapted from the novel and stage play. The play is the second longest running in the west end, but then the longest running is The Mousetrap - simply a bad play that has become famous for being famous. Some lovely Victorian settings tonight, but ultimately an unsatisfactory script. I'd avoided reading the review in the Cyprus Mail, the reviewer being usually self-indulgent and rather annoying. When I do read it after the film, it turns out the reviewer is lukewarm, but for not quite the righht reasons.

Clear evening s we leave the theatre and Harry points out Jupiter and Venus and Mars.

Tuesday, March 20/2012

Jane and Bill and Aylsa and Harry to dinner. Maggi still in Dubai. Six people means bringing in the plastic chairs from the balcony but they're reasonably comfortable and there are also the 2 armchairs anc couch. Lovely to be able to sit in a circle in comfortable seats where we can all hear everyone and not just the person next. A lot of laughter. Harry can be very funny and describes being called on stage at a magician's show and finding after all the abracadabra a chicken sticking its squawking head out of his fly.

Monday, March 19/2012

Haircut in the moroning, taking Miranda Carter's biography of Anthony Blunt along. Forget to take the book with me to the chair where I'm parked for fifteen minutes or so after the girl has wetted my hair. Like not rememering to take a book out of the doctor's waiting room and into the examining room, where there's nothing to read except wall charts on the reproductive system.

Chicken into a itre of wine as per the two fat ladies' instructions for tomorrow's coq au vin. J also makes pork goulash and chicken liver paté and does the time consuming cutting of the artichokes while I read to him - now an Ian Rankin novel.

Sunday, March 18/2012

First Grand Prix of the season. The AAustralian, so it's at eight in the morning - a bit too early for a sports bar. The good news is that it's broadcast on BBC Radio 5 live, courtesy of the British forces radio. The bad that no television station we get covers it so it's all audio, no video. Good race though.

Maggi off on a trip to Dubai.

Finish Tony Benn's diary (1991-2001). Amazing energy - Benn, not us.

Saturday, March 17/2012

St. Patrick's Day and Maggi's birthday so we have a longish lunch here with meze Jaworski style - sautéed artichoke hearts, tzatziki, humus with caramelised onions, mackerel spread, etc. Cheesecake but no candles. Give her the Egyptian t-shirt we found at the animal shelter shop - sadly more her size than mine, as well as being her colour.

Friday, March 16/2012

Weather finally sunny and warm - seasonal in fact for kCyprus. But, most unfairly, equally sunny and warm in much of Canada, including record breaking 20's in northern Ontario. The Great Lakes aren't supposed to match the Mediterranean before the end of winter!

Thursday, March 15/2012

Meet Margaret, Leslie, Sharon et al for coffee.  Sharon's mother is here, visiting from England.
 To Vlachols in the evening with the usual crew plus Bill and Jane's neighbour Maureen, who is about to leave to visit her daughter in Dubai nd says the races there leave Ascot in second place for glamour. J and I both order the moussaka  - but everyone else's looks good too.

Wednesday, March 14/2012

Dinner with Maggi and Marj on Marj's last day in Cyprus. Nice getting to chat with her again and very nice meal - lamb kleftiko and Lebanese style pastries. Some serious fasting in order - but not likely.

Tuesday, March 13/2012

The forecast was unpromising, but we're lucky. It stops pouring just before we leave for the bus to Limassol. As we wait for the bus on the waterfront, I read some of the posted timetables for local buses. One advertises itself as going to Central Abattoir, Political Asylum, and Kofinoy Station. An interesting combination. And on the way to Limassol we do stop at the bus station in Kofinoy village and pass the signpost for the central abattoir. No sign of political asylum though - maybe it's just a state of mind.

Rains again on the way, but stops as we reach Limassol. Sam and Andy pick us up, Andy driving, and back to the house in Erimi. We go to Curium Beach for coffee, sitting outside, a few feet away from the sea, which is turbulent and multicoloured today. It's so beautiful and so easy to take for granted in this country.

Talking with Sam always interesting - such clear insights with that lovely balance, assured but not imposing. And very nice also to see Andy again and catch up a little. He says Olivia has found a job as a nanny for a Canadian couple - work which, happily for her, requires her to travel with the family. Sam makes an interesting - and delicious middle eaastern dish with browned onions,  and layers of rice, aubergine and fish, as well as quite a lot of allspice. A keeper!  Then strawberries and cream.

Once more rain just before we leave but not as we wait for the bus or walk home from it. And during the day dry enough for us to eat outside in Sam's Roman villa style garden. Perfect.

Monday, March 12/2012

Coffee at Harry's with Lynette and Alex, and as we drink the temperature drops and the wind comes up, to the point where sandwich boards outside cafés are in danger of becoming airborne. As we walk back there are spatters of rain.

In the evening L and A ccome over for a drink. They`re off tomorrow, heading for Turkey and - they hope - a second try at an Iranian visa. They`re hoping that Ankara has good enough relations that this may work - as it didn`t from Nicosia. The difficulty is that the Iranians seem to prefer organised tours or, at the least, carefully planned itineraries with prebooked arrangements, whereas A and L are reluctant to make a lot of bookings without knowing that their visa application will be approved. They`ll already be out over  €200 on an application - non-refundable if it isn't approved. They're also thinking of going to India, so we'll be interested in hearing how it goes.

Sunday, March 11/2012

Lazy day. Brunch with the local daily, which isn't very good but does come up with basic information and some unintentional humour. There's also so much evidence that Cyprus is not an EU country in a functional sense. There is this week a letter complaining that EU directives require that retailers repair or provide refunds for defective goods for a two year period after purchase - a requirement that is ignored by Cypriot merchants, who often deny that there is any such law, and ignored by government agencies as well, so that complaints are useless. This corresponds with what others have said - that Cyprus rregularly pays fines rather than comply with EU regulations.

And, in similar vein, one section of today's paper reports that the government has passed a law prohibiting air traffic controllers from striking while another section announces the three dates in the coming week when four-hour strikes will occur.

In the evening Maggi and her friend Marge come up for a Cyprus brandy and a chat. Marge laid back, interesting and well informed.

Saturday, March 10/2012

Coffee at Harry's - sunny and warm enough now that we opt for a table in partial shade. Amble through the market, now buzzing with Saturday colour and trade  - everything from artichokes to strawberries to pomelos to net bags of live snails.

In the evening we go to Lynette and Alex's flat where we've been invited for curry. It's lovely, and so is the pleasure of tlk with like minded people. Easy to find it's nearly midnight and when we were twenty the conversation would probably have gone on  until dawn.

Friday, March 9/2012

J to the beach for his morning walk and I to George`s café to meet up with Margaret and Leslie for a cuppa. Actually pretty hot walking in the sun, but after the cool weather we've been having no one is complaining. We're back to Cyprus sun.

In the afternoon Maggi, her friend Marge (visiting from Scotland for a week) and Jane and I go to the base at Dhekelia for fish and chips at the restaurant (portions so big that two would really have done the four of us). We're there for a production of Little Shop of Horrors - a combined effort on the part of King Richard School and the little theatre group. It's light and fun and fairly good for amateur, despite the female lead having difficulty carrying a tune. Probably would have been more interesting but less professional had it been entirely a student production.

Thursday, March 8/2012

When I'm in the lobby using the computer, Mr. Andreas calls me over to the desk where he's talking to another guest - a young man. And asks if "we" have a password for the hotel wifi. Yes. He's surprised. Do I know it? Yes. Can I tell this young man? Yes, I say, and I'll write it down so you can tell other users.

Take Alex and Lynette to the charity shop as A is running low on reading. We meet up with J and over to Harry's café for a Cyprus coffee in the sun. Not at the prices A and L have been getting used to in Egypt, but a striking location with St Lazarus Church in the background. They ask us to join them for dinner but we can see it will be simpler aat our place - we`re more set up for long term. So L makes two enormous and beautiful salads and we cook chicken, rice and vegetables. And we all settle in for an evening of food, wine, and chat.

Wednesday, March 7/2012

Coffee with Margaret and another friend. I ask afterward what the friend's name is, having sat with her before. Margaret says that she calls her Doula,  but then adds that it's not her name - but if I say it quickly no one notices. Well, helpful as a technique maybe....

Alex and Lynette, our Australian friends arrive back from Egypt - and Jordan and Israel -  and give us a call. So we go over to share some wine and a great deal of chat about their travels. They were in Cairo for about two weeks as well as time in Israel and Palestine and more extensive travel in Jordan than we've done. They've now been away from Australia nearly a year and going strong.

Tuesday, March 6/2012

Horrible story of Nicosia area family who watched their house collapse as the municipality carried out major roadworks. The municipality and contractor each blamed the other. Most shocking, the insurance company, Laiki, which is a major bank, refused to pay out on the grounds that they had not been informed by the policy holder that there were roadworks happening. It's such a ridiculous objection that it's quite clear that they would have used any feeble excuse aat all. And all this was three years ago, with no compensation by anyone. Unbelievable!

Monday, March 5/2012

Maggi to dinner as we have a sort of spaghetti carbonade with artichoke hearts, mushrooms and caramelised onions replacing the bacon. As we look the ingredients over we can see there's lots for three, so nice evening.

Sunday, March 4/2012

The morning paper announces that Paphos airport was "left unstaffed" overnight. The strikes continue - mosly a half day at a time but it's definite hit and miss whether one can leave as scheduled. It must be affecting tourism as people with a week's holiday can't afford to mess it up.

Saturday, March 3/2012

Warm sun again and Cyprus coffee lazily in front of Harry's Café - shirtsleeve weather in the sun.

Friday, March 2/2012

We're reading (aloud) a volume of Tony Benn's diaries, this one covering 1991-2001. Tony Benn, the left wing icon, thoroughly Old Labour, who stayed fast as the party shifted to New Labour under his feet. Benn was first elected to the British parliament in 1950, when J and I were not yet in school, and left in 2001. During the whole of this time he kept, and at regular intervals published, a political (and occasionally personal) diary. He's cheerful, extrovert, and amazingly energetic.

His memory is wonderful - and the perspective of course is quite remarkable. So many people that one thinks of only as historical figures he knew. He met both Nehru and Gandhi, and entered the house shortly after World War II, in which he served in the airforce. And J and I remember the meeting of totally uncompromising hardline Commuists that we went to in London a couple of years back, where they dismissed Tony Benn because he hadn't been against WWII. He is extremely principled though. He would, in the normal course of events, have become Lord Stansgate on the death of his father but rejected the hereditary peerage on principle.

The book is hardcover and nearly 700 pages long, so when I got it at the charity shop on Saturday I told J that I couldn't resist but we'd have to come back next year to do it justice, but a week later we're a third of the way through, carried along by Benn's boyish enthusiasm. Despite the enormous spa of his career, he's very focused on the present nd enjoys the company of a wide range of people. The book reveals surprisingly unnuanced views of many issues, but maybe that's what you need to get on with the job. The Times reviewer refers to "the brio of illuminating a life almost entirely free of boredom." There's also the interesting quality of a diary rather than a memoir - the events haven't been mentally edited after the fact.

Thursday, March 1/2012

Brief panic as we discover that the wifi system has been upgraded (good in itself) but requires a password about which the staff appear to know nothing. But, following Kiki's telephone entreaties, a young compputer guru appears and sets a password and all is well - actually a faster connection than before.

To Vlachos for dinner with the usual crowd. It's unusually busy for a weeknight and the staff seem a bit harrassed. Food is good, though. And the moussaka back in form. Wish it were easier to hear in there though. Conversation works best with those immediately beside one. Maybe that's why Greeks always talk so loudly.

Report on the Cypriot news tonight of a court case regarding gambling, which is illegal in the Republic of Cyprus. The accused are all women aged between 70 and 99, and they're accused of playing cards for five and ten euro stakes in a private residence in Limassol. A group thinned out somewhat since the original charges were laid, as two have died and another two lost their memories due to Alzheimer's.

 

Wednesday, February 29/2012

The threatened rain doesn't come, but it's pretty cold - 8 Celsius - and very windy. I set out to meet up with J and Margaret for coffee at George's and decide it's just too cold. Not really too cold for the walk, but too cold to sit shivering outside George's café. So call J, who has the UK mobile in his pocket. He, prudently, doesn't answer, but when it rings he knows I won't be coming.

In the afternoon Kiki has the good news that the rent here won't be going up next year. Was it's J's reference to Paphos, or suggestion that there should be a discount next year to compensate us for this year's renovation noiseOr was it Maggi's mentioning that we have been looking at other hotels? We'll never know - but it won't have been out of the goodness of Mr Andreas' heart.

In theory there is supposed to be an Inspector Frost film on at nine, but, as is often the case, it's been replaced without notice or apology by a different film, not, of course, in English.

Tuesday, February 27/2012

Too wet this morning for walking but we've arranged with Maggi to go to check on a couple of alternate apartment hotels for next year, prudently keeping our options open as management here consider the potential value of this year's "improvements", as well, no doubt, as factoring in the escalating cost of electricity and water.

Larco Hotel Apartments is fully booked - at least the apartments are - which  is not particularly good re prices. One bedroom flats in winter are  €660 a month, mostly occupied by Scandinavians. We're about to leave when the thunderstorm intensifies and there is tremendously heavy rain, which suddenly turns to hail. Quite dramatic as it piles up in front of the glass doors and the street becomes a stream.


We're driving back slowly, so as not to lose the brakes or skid into the intersections. Stop at another hotel - the Onisillous - to check it out. the flats are OK - a little less cosy than the Sunflower but with BBC TV and microwaves. The location has pros and cons - quite near St Lazarus and the beach and nearer the Saturday market, but not as close to the supermarkets or Prinos. The owner is a real charmer though. He's close to eighty and the hotel is a family business. He and his wife live on the premises and his granddaughter has a beauty shop here. But life wasn't always so easy. He invites us to share a cup of Cyprus coffee and Mandarin oranges from his own property, and tells us the story of his progress from barrow to small shops to hotel, with a lovely, quiet, modest style. The flats are €555 a month from November to March and there is, as he shows us, a printed price list - a refreshing change from Mr Andreas' practice of tossing out prices to see what the response is - run it up the flag and see who salutes. So that even when one has a more or less satisfactory price from him there is always the nagging suspicion that someone else has probably done better, or, embarrassingly, worse, or that one may have just lost a game of chicken.


As we're in the lobby there are torrents of rain pouring down the road and lapping up over the sidewalks, with white hail being borne along on the current. Less rain and no hail by the time we get back home, but at one point driving in the car sounded like living inside a drum as it was being beaten.