Tuesday, April 23/2013

Shakespeare's birthday and the Feast of St George. Only in the year of volcanic ash were we here this late. And today it's spring - warm and flowery and alive - so off we go to Canada tomorrow, to the land of endless snow.

Monday, April 22/2013

Second visit to Autograf, the wonderful Polish restaurant in Tottenham. More perogies, cabbage rolls (this time with mushroom sauce - a good idea) and goulash. Probably the only people in the restaurant who ordered in English - although even with us there were a few words of Polish thrown in.

Sunday, April 21/2013

Meet Jean and Shanthi for lunch at a little cafeteria serving Malaysian students. To prevent its being swamped by tourists and non-Malaysian students, admission is accorded to those speaking a Malaysian language and their group. So Shanthi is our admission card. Interesting food, and quite a variety for such a small space. Jean says it reminds her of the food they ate when she was teaching in Singapore. So we have curries, brinjal, samosas, sweets, ginger tea. Very nice. London is such a rich place culturally.

Saturday, April 20/2013

Rubens Ceiling centre panel

Third time lucky - Banqueting House is open, as promised on website, finally prudently consulted. Very interesting. The execution spot of Charles I. We've often wondered at which window, and there is a bit of uncertainty, in part due to some rebuilding. Despite the name, the banqueting house was largely used as a reception place for foreign dignitaries, the Rubens ceiling intended to impress - and no doubt succeeding. Charles I was beheaded on a scaffold outside the window, and always makes me think of the line from Macbeth - nothing in his life became him like the leaving it (said of the previous Thane of Cawdor, not Macbeth). Charles prorogued parliament for years (sound familiar?) and insisted on the divine right of kings, but he died bravely, wearing a warm shirt lest his shivering be mistaken for fear. One can only imagine his children, aged nine and thirteen, being sent in the morning to say good-bye to him - horrific for both parties.

Friday, April 19/2013

Attempt number two at the Banqueting House. Closed again. But you said yesterday it would be open today. So it was - until one o'clock. Fortunately the National Gallery is nearby. Head toward a room that promises a Hogarth. It does have one not-particularly-interesting Hogarth. But also a great horse by Stubbs. It's prancing and magnificent and must have been quite hard to do, in that there would  have been no photographs at the time and no possibility of asking the horse to pose mid-prance. Contrast with a large painting by Van Dyke showing Charles I, easily recognisable from the next room, on a horse that is hideously disproportionate, and not, one assumes, for any symbolic reason. Maybe court painters just aren't willing to say that they don't do horses.

Thursday, April 18/2013

Serendipitous day. The plan was to go to the Banqueting House, scene of Charles I's execution. Should have googled first, of course. It is closed for some function. We'd planned to be indoors because heavy showers were expected, and as we walk down the Strand they arrive following great gusts of wind (also predicted and the reason we haven't bothered with umbrellas). Shelter for a bit in the doorway of a coffee shop and then hop a bus that's going a long way. Actually West Hampstead. By which time we've had a rethink and take the tube one stop over to our usual favourite spot - Kilburn High Road. Lots of browsing along the charity shops (rain stopped by now). We're thinking dinner when we remember that Roses has lamb kleftiko as its Thursday night special. That seals it. And happily so, because it's the best lamb kleftiko either of us has ever tasted - butter soft and folding back from the leg bone as it's done to total perfection. Better than we've ever had in Cyprus, and, we reflect, for less money that we could possibly buy the raw lamb in Canada. So happy postponement to the Banqueting House in favour of the banquet.

Wednesday, April 17/2013

It's sunny and much warmer. Men sitting smoking shishas along Queensway. We skip the crowds for Maggie Thatcher's funeral. The funeral itself is highly controversial. A state funeral in all but name, minus the lying in state. The cost is supposed to be £10 million. Which many regard as scandalous. Others are cynical about the opportunism in a grand Conservative funeral as the coalition is faltering along with the econmy and the IMF is highly critical of the Chancellor of the Exchequer (shown in tears aat the funeral, presumably engendered by  the occasion and not the IMF). There`s an interesting question of protocol regarding the assessment of greatness. Defined by policy, by longevity, by tenure as prime minister, by international activity? Any PM who served more than ten years? If Blair were to die accidentally would he be accorded the same sort of funeral? Of course Thatcher won her war and arguably didn't start it. And who decides? Not the House in this case, but a PM who happens to be from the same party. Yes, she was the first woman prime minister. Would the apply to a first black PM? A first disabled one? The only comparable funeral was Churchill's but Churchill was much less controversial and his government, happily, a wartime National Unity government.

Speculation: Invited guests, many of them elderly, had to be in St Paul's by ten for an eleven o'clock service. And to leave their homes or hotels much earlier. How many loos are there in St Paul's and how many in the congregation went without morning coffee?

We to the National Portrait Gallery in the afternoon. Another look at the portrait of Richard III, after rereading Josephine Tey's Daughter of Time when R's body was discovered and identified this year and then visiting York on Sunday. A painting of Elizabeth I that looks like a death mask attached to the top of an elaborate dress. Presumably the sitter only had to pose while the face was being painted and the rest could be added later. In this case the shoes peep out from under the hem at an angle that seems not quite right. Also view an interesting set of busts by Epstein.

Walk down Whitehall, where there's a protest on regarding a coming execution in India. Then tube and DLR to Greenwich for our semi-annual visit to Goddard's Pie Shop (same family since 1890). Can never hold both pie and crumble (eels also available) so we now go for crumble. Today's choice apple and black currant with massive amounts of custard.

Tuesday, April 16/2013

We're not up early but get to enjoy Jasmine (4) and Leila (nearly 2) after Giles drops them off to be looked after for the day. Jasmine is very self possessed, talkative and socially adept. Leila is quieter but self-reliant in a different way, talking to herself while she plays with the toys. Interesting to watch her analysing how a toy works (some of Grandpa's genes?). She has very good fine motor co-ordination. Doug's sister Kathleen stops in with her grandson Johnny, an active, happy little boy (10 months old?).

We take train and tube back. Genie has saved us our old room and it feels like home now.Time for a little shopping in Camden Town, including a bottle of ruby cabernet which we take with us to Indian Veg, where the owner is happy to provide us with wine glasses. Good as ever.

Monday, April 15/2013

We're off and so are our very gracious and generous hosts. Phil and Elaine have a newly acquired motor home and are heading off Liverpool way to try it out and visit friends. It's both airy and compact - really nicely planned. I could quite happily live in a space like that, at least for half the year.

We stop at Leeds on our way and take a look at the house where D and J lived when their girls were little. Very nicely located in a dead end road across from parkland, and they sound a little wistful. Lovely big house too.

As we reach London, we can see that the weekend sun and warmth has done its best and cherry blossoms,magnolias, forsythia and camellias have joined the daffodils. Late but lovely.

Sunday, April 14/2013

Lazy Sunday breakfast with back bacon and sausages from the excellent local butcher. Mushrooms, scrambled eggs, cherry tomatoes and pancakes. More than holds us for an exploration of York. York was a Roman town and parts of the wall round the old city are Roman. It's windy but warm and we walk a section of the wall, then stop to admire the cathedral, York Minster, famous as the largest medieval cathedral in Europe. It is enormous, but more important, it's beautiful, and should really be the burial place of the much maligned Richard III, though it doesn't look as  if that will happen. There's a lovely dignity and grace about the older centre of the city, and E and P take us to the Shambles, the oldest section, its name derived from the benches on which butchers displayed their meat and not from the appearance of old buildings that almost lean on each other (the oldest 14th century). Then along the river for a brief stop at a pub and we're off. On the way back we stop at Knaresborough to see the castle ruins and the stunning view below. York and its surrounds were royalist in the civil war and paid a price for it afterward.

Phil and Elaine surpass themselves at dinner. A stunning roast of beef (local butcher again). Roast potatoes, leeks (home grown), carrots, parsnips, broccoli, cauliflower, and a delicious dish that Elaine has made with butternut squash, almonds and pine nuts. Beautiful. Also Yorkshire pudding, courtesy of Jenny. Barely room for dessert, but we do make some because it's a crumble made with their own gooseberries. they have a lovely garden that goes back endlessly, with a fish pond and greenhouse and even a little summer house with electricity - to say nothing of the view over the fields. The house itself is lovely too,
following loving renovations. Beautifully designed.

Saturday, April 13/2013

Lovely drive cross country. Pass a village bus saying Ilkley - of Ilkley Moor fame. We're in hilly pasture land on our way west to Keighley, where there's a little steam railway linking half a dozen towns and run by enthusiastic volunteers. Our tickets are good for its whole length, so on board for Oxenhope, the other end of the line, where there's an exhibition shed with a variety of old steam locomotives, complete with provenance. There are even some teenagers, on their school break, with paint brushes, helping out with restoration. Great fun for all of us - most of us old enough to premember steam engines in regular use.

We have just enough time for lunch. The nearby pub is being refurbished and isn't doing food, but this may be to our advantage as there's a busy little local fish and chip takeaway - fish and chips £3.50 ($5.40) and delicious. We take them to benches on the edge of the adjacent playing field.

Then one stop down the line to Haworth. There`s a steep walk uphill to the village - lovely, quaint shops and the parsonage in which the Bronte sisters were raised, now turned into a museum on the edge of the moor. There are quite a few original items - letters, clothing, photographs - as well as period furnishings and some historical background, such as the high death rate in the village due to poor sanitation and the number of villagers (up to 24 families) sharing one privy. The church nearby has been rebuilt in the nineteenth century but it`s the congregation where the sisters` father, Patrick Bronte, was rector and the Bronte family tomb is under one of its pillars.

We`re back at the little station in time to see a man erase the next train from the blackboard with the listings, so repair to the pub across the road, sussed out by Phil, to tests its bitter before the last train back. If any of the run looks familiar there may be a reason. Damems Station was used in the series Born and Bred, and Oaksworth in the film version of The Railway Children.

Lovely meze style supper followed by a hot drink (Lamumba?) made with brandy and chocolate, the latter brought back by E and P from their South American cruise. Very nice.

Friday, April 12/2013

Jenny, Doug, Joe and I drive to Yorkshire. It's a theoretical four hours but actually closer to six. Roads fairly clogged in places, largely because it's Friday afternoon. And, as Doug says, because they let northerners drive cars. A bit hard on D, who does all the driving, but not bad for the rest of us. Lots of fields with sheep, many of them with tiny lambs scampering or feeding or huddling with a twin. Daffodils and crocuses out and, as we get further north, dry stone walls and rolling fields.

Elaine and Phil live in Hampsthwaite, just outside Harrogate. They kindly welcome us with tea and cake and then we go for a walk in the country. As we look at the pretty river running through the village it starts to rain a little, so we wind up at a village pub where we enjoy the local bitter. Then home. Phil has made a superb cassoulet with beans and two different kinds of sausage - chorizo and Sicilian.

Thursday, April 11/2013

Out of the Baron's and over to Starbucks for coffee and wifi. The tube to Wimbledon and train from there to Thames Ditton. Everything with us as we'll be gone until Tuesday before moving back to the hotel. Nice to know it does still all fit - if only just.

Jenny has invited her cousin Elaine and Elaine's husband Hugh to dinner - generous and ambitious as she's been at a training session for Community Advice Bureau counsellors. Lovely, though. Moussaka and creme caramel and good conversation as Doug and Hugh wind each other up about the merits or otherwise of the Thatcher regime.

Wednesday, April 10/2013

Last day in Bayswater.Time to excavate the room - all the papers with articles we planned to read but....Our rose has been in a wine bottle. On Thursday, as we were going out to the Barbican, there was a young man standing on the front steps with a large plasticised carrier bag of roses. Sheltering from the snow? Hoping someone with a key would let him into the hotel? In any case he handed me a rose. I was going to go back and put it in the room before we left but he said it would be bad luck. So, ridiculously, I took it with me - on the tube, to the Barbican Library, back on the tube, to its wine bottle. Never really opened up, but had a beautiful scent.

On the platform at King's Cross we arrive to screams and see people trying the impossible - to force open a carriage door. Fear the worst, but it turns out that no-one has been crushed. A woman's children are in the carriage but the door has closed before she could join them. Someone pulls the emergency alarm and eventually the door opens to admit her.

Tuesday, April 9/2013

With Alexander and Flora to Autograf, the Polish restaurant in Tottenham. Just barely on time as the Central line has been sseriously slowed after someone threw themself under a train - roughly a weekly occurrence on the London Underground.

The restaurant turns out to be a keeper. Tiny and informal, but nice staff and really authentic Polish food. In fact the menu is bilingual, but with the Polish first, and signs on the wall are in Polish only. Bigos, cabbage rolls, goulash, potato pancakes, and some of the best pierogies we've  tasted. We begin with a mixed plate of them as a shared starter. One, that J says was delicious, has a spinach filling. Cheesecake and apple pie for dessert - one of each but four plates - we're pretty full by then. and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

Monday, April 8/2013

Neighbourhood gentrification is a mixed blessing. Not rescuing slums and tending window boxes, but the more commercialised variety that seems to take all the quirky character out of a street. So Kilburn High Road still has tiny restaurants with local customers and no chain affiliation. Pubs that have history - in one case 525 years of it. Architectural idiosyncrasy. But yesterday we saw that, the Junk Shop not withstanding, Greenwich is going upscale. Goddard's pie shop is still there, albeit in new premises, after over a hundred years in the same family, but wine bars and little boutiques are slowly displacing small cafés and second hand bookshops. And Queensway, in Bayswater, when J and I had our first meal there - our first meal together ever - twenty-four years ago, was funkier, less ''expensive, more real. Will Kilburn suffer the same fate? What about Brixton?

The news today, of course, is that Baroness Thatcher has died. Tributes of course - and many who view her legacy with some bitterness as well. An amazing number of interviewees on television, but then, whether or not anyone expected the death right now, it has been inevitable for some time and the media have had lots of time to prepare.

Sunday, April 7/2013

Another sunny day - and the breeze is a warm one. Queensway happy again with cups of coffee and pints of beer. Restaurant touts handing out their cards as usual but people lingering. A good day to go over to Greenwich.

The main covered market is too crowded to enjoy, especially at the good end, which is so packed that actual eating looks hazardous. Lots of crafts for sale. More fun though at the open air antique market up the road. Not all antiques but retro jewellery (from the '70's!), old books, gramophones, vintage clothing, metal signs. And then there's the Junk Shop - yes, that is its name, though the letter slot has a notice saying no junk mail. The shop is an astonishing warren of collectables - everything imaginable, from sheet music to tin boxes, antique dolls, an Edwardian school desk not that different from the one I used in grade one, books, old postcards, china. I love the antique chemist's bottles, in part because I remember the village doctor's office in my early childhood. There was no pharmacy and the doctor prescribed medicines from the dark brown and deep blue bottles lining his shelves - ones that looked much like the ones we saw in Cuba half a century later, or here today.

We have a couple of small bottles of our own in our coat pockets - airplane size wine bottles refilled with wine and ready for our stop at the Indian Veg. they're happy to supply wine glasses - and unlike Ontario there's no corkage fee. Actually, when we stopped once at a village in Quebec there was no corkage fee either - and it seemed to be more than the quality of my French preventing the waitress from understanding the concept. Very civilised. And the food here always good.

Saturday, April 6/2013

Sun is out and the east wind gone and it`s the weekend. On Queensway the people are out as if they`d crawled from underneath rocks into the sun. Jackets unzipped, glasses of beer on the tables outside the cafés, no longer the sole preserve of desperate smokers.

And we across to the South Bank and the river walkway. Families, couples, young skateboarders, an open air food market with ethic foods, and even a man cutting up a whole roasted free range boar and offering samples. As we pass a café we`re offered a sample of spiced chai - very good. the tide is out and on the sands below the walk there are buskers at work. a guitarist has spread out a blanket for his audience to throw down coins. Perhaps luckier than the Irishman who sang and played the guitar onn a crowded tube carriage the other day and got off saying ``Sod the applause - I can`t pay bills with applause.`` A little sad, but then he was, in undoubted contravention of local bylaws, competing with legitimate buskers who had to audition for their pitches in the the underground tunnels. Here on the Southbank`s tidal sands there are also the sand sculptors taking advantage of low tide.

Our semi-annual visit to tate Modern. It`s been a while since there was an impressive installation in the huge entrance hall, but there are always other exhibitions to visit. I`m taken by an oil of Ernst`s - made by placing the canvis over planks of wood, scraping paint across and then working with the image - ``The Entire City,`` 1934.

Friday, April 5/2013

To the Saatchi Gallery, always a favourite. Not only always free but very friendly - nothing ever roped off, just a reminder to parents to prevent children touching. The featured exhibitions today are contemporary Russian. Some wit and quite a lot of despair, with a set of black and white photographs by Vikenti Nilin showing people perched precariously, if not suicidally, on window ledges and balcony railings - the floor centre occupied by a splatted humanoid form in black plastic. There`s also a truly disturbing exhibition of Boris Mikhailov's photographs portraying a degraded segment of the population - abused, alcoholic, sexual but scarcely arousing. Exploitation or documentary? The whole exhibition is entitled "Gaiety is the Outstanding Feature of the Soviet Union" - heavily ironic and very sad, in a post-Soviet Russia where there is not even the Communist safety net and a great many marginalised people staring into the abyss. But some wit as well - the statue of a woman who is rounded off like a Russian doll, to the fascination of a very small girl.

Thursday, April 4/2013

Last of the tablet purchases. Irresistibly priced at £129 (VAT reclaimable) a 64 gb Blackberry Playbook, including sleeve and three months Times subscription. Other than the keyboard, it`s hard to compare the convenience of a netbook with that of 7 inch tablets. Two fit in my handbag, which isn`t large. Hard to imagine that ten years ago we travelled with no computer, tablet or mobile phone and thought we lived in a remarkable age because there were internet cafés. And now rumour has it that Norway is going to scrap landlines and go entirely with mobiles. Cheaper to maintain networks than phone lines? Perhaps in the end that will give us decent coverage at home.

Back by bus and tube in blowing snow. For the first time in our memory the flower sellers at the corner have closed down early. A miserable job standing there in the cold wind and sleet, and not wonderful for the flowers either. Then back to the Barbican to set the Playbook up.