Thursday, November 6/2014

To West Harrow and a visit with Jean. Her eightieth birthday coming up next month, although you'd never think it. On New Year's Eve actually, and as she says there's always a celebration with fireworks along the Thames and parties everywhere. We go over to collect the very nice Chinese food she's ordered and Shanthi arrives to share it, full of stories of her month's holiday in Sri Lanka and India, from temples and five star hotels to the horrors of the Indian railways.

We emerge from Bayswater tube station to the sound of sirens. There's a fire- smoke but no visible flames - next to, or perhaps over, the bureau de change. The currency exchange is a glass fronted box now full of smoke, so we wonder whether the firemen have brought a battering ram in addition to the long hoses and oxygen tanks.  If so, they don't use it and the cash remains secure, if indeed that is where it reposes at night. A few people are led out of the building, one of them an old man with long black coat and black woollen hat, who is eventually found a chair at the Lebanese restaurant, oddly outside rather than inside where it's warm. There are quite a few of us viewing the excitement from the pavement opposite, shop keepers and passers by. Eleven thirty is relatively early for Queensway. After a few minutes the police tape goes up and we're moved along a bit. Time for home anyway.

Wednesday, November 5/2014

Guy Fawkes Day, although we forget about it until evening when we can hear the sound of fireworks - but are not really tempted to go out and follow the sound to the source.

In the daytime we make a foray up Green Lanes Road. It's Turkish territory, with plenty of little restaurants, some the subject of excellent reviews. And there are numerous Turkish food shops as well as a few travel agencies and social service facilities with a Turkish clientele. We're here for Sama, a warehouse like wholesale/retail place that's a wonderful trove of Turkish and Middle Eastern foods. It's pretty unprepossessing from the outside but inside the shelves stretch back laden with dried figs and apricots, sundried tomatoes, bottles of oil, dried peppers, dates, two foot long honeycombs in wooden frames, J's favourite dried red pepper flakes, and a whole aisle full of olives. So we're well supplied with snack food for the duration.

Tuesday, November 4/2014

Meet up with Jenny outside the National Gallery, a good meeting spot because it's central, there's a large portico in front allowing shelter from rain if necessary, and there.'s plenty to enjoy if one arrives early. We are a bit early and watch not only the crowds but also the "statue people" - the mime artists with metallic body paint who perform or permit photos in response to donations. We head over to St Martin in the Fields across the road where there's coffee and lunches in the crypt. Coffee and catch up conversation. And two hours later emerge to dark skies (in part because it's now late afternoon) and rain. Abandon plans for walk in park and separate for our trains.

Opposite Charing Cross Station discover an open umbrella abandoned on the pavement. Does have a small hole, but serves well to take us down to Embankment and then home from the tube. Gains and losses on umbrellas must be about equal, including the one J was given at Sainsbury's in Finchley Road when he asked if his had been turned in and was told no, but he might as well have one of the long term unclaimed ones. On the whole, though, while numbers may be equal, there is probably a bit of a decline in quality. The best of them, found on the tube shortly after we left one on a bus, we ended up leaving subsequently on a bench in Paphos. Tonight's find is carefully dismantled by J, ever the tinkerer, and the structure of its frame duly admired, but it really isn't worth salvaging.

Monday, November 3/2014

Chillier this morning, though not as wintry as Starbucks seems to think it is - with red coffee cups and strains of "dreaming of a white Christmas" in the air. Our regular Starbucks has pretty impressive staff though. Not only do they juggle orders with four or five behind the counter and no mistakes, but Antonio immediately produced our regular  when we appeared for the first time in over six months.

To the National Portrait Gallery in the afternoon, the most intimate of London's major galleries, probably because the subjects are as interesting as the quality of the art or the artists.  A section on the Romantic period has a portrait of Keats in the Hampstead room we have visited next to a very young Coleridge and round the corner from an elderly Wordsworth. On the other side of the room, beneath a portrait of Blake, a remarkably shifty Turner looks as if he might be scalping tickets. 

Nearby there is a huge parliamentary scene of the trial of Queen Caroline, wife of George IV, longtime prince regent. The scandal, involving her affair with an Italian and his subsequent attempt to divorce her, seems remarkably modern, down to the character on the left handing a newspaper with the latest juicy details into the chamber to the hands of an eager MP. And there's both a bust and a portrait of William Hogarth, of Gin Lane fame, looking much less like an aesthete than a builder come to do repairs. So much for physical stereotypes.

Then supper at the Indian Veg near Angel tube station. Price has increased again, after a little more than a year, but only to £5.95, and the buffet has actually gone slightly upscale. Still entirely vegetarian and mostly vegan. And delicious.

Sunday, November 2/2014

Up before dawn to walk down to Hyde Park for the start of the 2014 London to Brighton veteran car run. Before we even reach the park we hear the putter of a car behind us on the Bayswater Road - one of the antique entrants (the youngest cars are 110 years old) on its way to the beginning of the rally. A scary prospect here, before they're all gathered together, as a few tiny vehicles, the smallest barely larger than a pram, make their way through the (admittedly light) pre-dawn London traffic. Several pass us, someof them not even equipped with lights, their little horns sounding as they bravely change lanes in front of the buses.

There are plenty of RAC volunteers out organising the start, which is good because there are over 400 cars. The first - the oldest - are scheduled to leave at dawn, which is just before seven this morning, with the last leaving about eight. There is a light drizzle, which dissipates, but it's not cold. The breeze is a mild one as we walk along the Serpentine, the swans gliding beside us. Most cars have several passengers, sometimes including a small child or a dog, and the participants are busy with last minute adjustments, goodbyes and coffees. Many of the people are in period costume, and the occasional leathers and goggles look particularly useful. Cars with roofs or windscreens are in the minority.

They're off, some with more difficulty than others. There's the odd steam engine - do they carry extra water? Some have tires with tubes while others are hard as an old wheelbarrow's. There's not a lot of room for spares but we spot extras looped on the side of one car. They're all beautifully mainained, some in the original colours but others presumably not - ivory, mint, fire engine red and cobalt blue liven up the ranks. Who knows how many will make it all the way to Brighton, but all but two do get away. Hartbreaking to bring a car this far - all of them trailered and some from as far away as America or Australia - and then be unable to join the rally. A third has had difficulties, but as we're leaving it sputters to life and heads off after its mates to cheers and applause. And we hear someone say "It's not a race- it's a run".

Saturday, November 1/2014

Regent Street closed for the country's biggest free car show, attracting some 400,000 people. We've come for the cars from tomorrow's London to Brighton car run - all of them pre-1905. They're not all that's on display though. Thereare some pretty impressive new cars, luxury and concept, ranging from a bright red Porsche sports model to a sleek new black Tesla.

It's the vintage cars that take our hearts, though. Dating from the late 19th abd very early 20th centuries and no two alike. Many of them tiny and brightly coloured. Some familiar names like Oldsmobile amongst them and others long vanished into ancient automotive history. Most with unbelievably small engines - five horsepower, for instance, and two (or even ONE) cylinders. Wicker trunks attached, and squeeze bulb horns. Most roofless, though a prize winner has a fringed top. Many of the owners are in period costume, to the delight of the photographers amongst the throng.

Friday, October 31/2014

Hallowe'en, and a number of people on the street in costume, although Guy Fawkes Day is bigger here. To Kilburn High Road to renew acquaintance. Stunning afternoon. Temperature reaches 23, a record, and it's sunny. Take a break on Kilburn Grange and watch the children with dogs, the young boys with footballs, a young couple stripped down for sunbathing.

Supper at Roses. More or less as always, though the checkered tablecloths are new, and the young East European waitresses seem part of an endless sequence. J fails to identify the language as they chatter to each other, so not Polish, Russian or Ukrainian. Romanian? Not as busy as usual. Prices pretty much the same as usual, though the roast dinners have disappeared from the two course specials and found their way back into the menu proper.

Thursday, October 30/2014

Plane arrives at Heathrow at dawn. As we're in no hurry at all to get to central London any earlier than we can get in to our accommodation, everything conspires to speed us. Short immigration queue, suitcases on the carousel before J is out the loo, train on the platform immediately, no waiting for the transfer. All of which leaves plenty of time for coffee and internet at Starbucks before we can decently present ourselves to check in. 

Lovely weather. Nineteen degrees and sunshine, the best reset mechanism for jet lag. Surprisingly, the sim in the mobile works. Wouldn't work in Canada and should have expired after six months non-use, but it's been six  months and a week and all's well. Which is nice as there's still £7.90 left on it.

Tuesday, April 22/2014

Last day. We'll miss London, especially our little corner of it, just down the street from the flower sellers

Monday, April 21/2014

Last minute errands. Like 3 metre connector cable for the ipad mini, handy when staying in places where the sockets are few or badly placed - which is almost everywhere we stay. Overpriced, like everything Apple, but no more so than at home. Most but not all shops in Camden Town open, as it's Easter Monday. Funny division. Exit the tube station and turn left and it's all charity shops, supermarkets, discount stored, bakeries, pubs,  places that unlock mobile phones and sell second hand ones. Mothers with small children in tow buying groceries, people getting haircuts, young men handing out leaflets. But exit the tube station and turn right and you're into Camden Market. All counterculture and young energy. Street food, buskers, jewellery, incense, wall hangings, piercing  studios. The sidewalks almost too crowded to move. A division that is becoming more pronounced every year.

Bus from Camden High Street to Kilburn High Road. Past Abbey Road of Beatles fame. Last supper of the season at Roses.

Sunday, April 20/2014

Easter Sunday. First plan is to take the tube but The Circle and District lines aren't running from Bayswater due to a signal failure at Kensington High Street. Much less distressing than when a line is stopped because of a person under a train. But the 148 bus takes us almost door to door. At least from the corner of Queensway to Westminster Cathedral. 

Good thing we're early. By the time morning prayer, which precedes the Easter mass, begins at 10 there are no seats left for the 10:30 pontifical mass. In fact there must be well over a thousand people seated as well as over two hundred who stand for the entire two hours.  Cardinal Vincent Nichols is principal celebrant and there is a full choir, including the beautiful boys' choir, who will also have sung at last night's vigil mass. And we're lucky in the voices of the two men sitting behind us. One in particular has a strong voice and reads music well, a pleasure since much of it is antiphonal.

When we leave the promised rain has arrived. It's pretty light but chilly for the flower seller on the corner, who was probably counting on Easter being a busy day. No paintings along the Hyde Park railings on The Bayswater Road either, though some of the artists were setting up when we went by earlier. The rain gets heavier after we've  gone home and watched the replay of the Chinese Grand Prix, so a good day to stay in with the telly. And truly we've been amazingly lucky in the weather this year, both here and in Cyprus.

Saturday, April 19/2014

First stop The Portrait Gallery. There's a World War I exhibit on. Serious commissioned portraits of generals and kings, and one is reminded again how much Czar Nicholas looked like King George V, his cousin who didn't rescue him from the revolutionaries. Then photographs of young men who signed up, from poets like Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon and Rupert Brooke to a smiling underage boy who never came home. There are some early black and white films too, including the restaged one of soldiers going over the top at the Somme. Ironically the photographer risked his life in getting genuine live footage but the cameras of the day were simply not up to zooming and the men looked like ants. A woman watching tells us that her grandfather was at the Somme and at Passchendaele and came home.

There's also an exhibition commemorating Vivian Leigh, born in 1913, a hundred years before the portraits went up last year. Mostly film promos but some biographical info and interesting. Fairly broad repertoire.

Then down to Covent Garden. Full of tourists but there are buskers and street entertainers and a happy mood.

Friday, April 18/2014

By tube to Piccadilly as there are a couple of things we want to check out. Soho as jostlingly cheerful as ever. A couple of shops closed, presumably for Good Friday, but most establishments open. Then up to Oxford Street, which is crowded. A man on a small stand berates the throng for their sinful ways, sounding very angry. The only bit I catch seems to be a chastisement for smoking, but if that meets the category of major misdoing there must be much, much more. Another man has adapted an upside down bicycle with additions that form small steel drums. He's pretty good and has gathered a small circle round him. And outside Selfridge's there's a chap who has a genuine steel drum with a surprisingly pretty tone on which he is playing English Country Garden, sadly with no audience at all.

Selfridge's food hall is either high art or food porn, depending on your point of view. There's a champagne and oyster bar, which is doing happy business, and counters selling everything imaginable, including such luxuries as wild boar prosciutto and buffalo milk camembert. Everything artfully displayed, and nothing accidentally underpriced. Always as good as a gallery visit. Would like to photograph but not sure it would be appreciated.

Thursday. april 17/2014

I to West Harrow to visit with Jean while J spends time in Camden Town and Kilburn. Tea and talk for Jean and me. Then we meet up on Kilburn High Road for supper, made slightly easier by the fact that, briefly, we have UK sims in both mobiles. So incredibly much cheaper than similar in Canada. For £10 (roughly €12, $17.50 CAD) we can keep the cash balance for as long as it lasts, provided it's used at least once every six months. So 3p a text, 2p a minute for phone calls and 1p a mb for data. Meaning that 30 texts and 30 minutes on UK calls runs to  £1.50. At that rate the £10 investment lasts for years. 

Wednesday, April 16/2014

Another Turkish section of London. Actually, it's much more multicultural than that. We take the overground to Dalston Junction on Kingsland High Street and then walk past Turkish restaurants and shops up to Ridley Road Market. Fruit, vegetables, fish, clothing, handbags, trinkets, electrical goods. All at highly competitive prices and the food, at least, of good quality.  And the customers know it. It's happily crowded with people of every imaginable ethnic background, with a great variety of languages and dress styles. In many ways Petticoat Lane as it must have been decades ago before it existed largely to overcharge tourists. A feast for all the senses. 

Tuesday, April 15/2014

To south London and one of the oldest parts of the city. Ironically then we emerge from the tube at London Bridge station more or less underneath the pyramid shaped Shard - new, modern, and supposed to be the tallest building in Western Europe (does this mean that there is, improbably, a taller building in Eastern Europe?). At 310 metres it's tall enough that you really have to get a couple of blocks away to be able to see it properly. It is possible to go up to the top but at £29.50 we decide to give it a miss. There's a champagne bar, presumably to help one forget the entry fee. But by the time we get a couple of blocks away, by Guy's Hospital, the view of the Shard itself is quite good.

And then for the something old. We're not far from the Thames, and pass the Maze, once a pool by the Thames. Now drained, but the site where the remains of a Romano-British ship was discovered. And we're only a few blocks away from the George, an old coaching inn that's been on our list of pubs to visit for years. The George dates back to the 16th century, and was frequented by Shakespeare, but it was destroyed by fire and rebuilt  in 1677. The current building was visited by Dickens, who drank in a great many London establishments. As a coaching inn it provided accommodation for both people and horses and was a stopping point for those coming up from points south, like Kent, for business in London. An old sign hangs inside, its surface crazed with the cracks of time, giving the tariff for horses - shod at two shillings a hoof, stabling one and six. We stop for a drink and then admire the galleries. It's easy to see how Elizabethan theatre made use of the natural stage provided by inns with galleried courtyards.  

Monday, April 14/2014

To the Saatchi Gallery. Always interesting. Giant insects counterpoint to one of my all time favourites, also seen at the Saatchi, Tessa Farmer. Less intriguing than Farmer's work but still fun. Rafael Gomezbarros has giant insects congregating on a wall. Come close to disgracing myself by commenting on Ibrahim Mahama's untitled work involving an entire room covered with jute sacks. Not really, but there is a moment of wondering if one is about to comment on the work only to be told that one is viewing the sacking that is screening an unveiled installation.

Sunday, April 13/2014

Lovely sunny afternoon, with Hyde Park full of families with children and dogs, young couples, elderly people, and cyclists. There are rental bikes all over London, recognisable by their blue Barclay's logo. Return to any other set of rental bike stands.

To Roses for supper. On Kilburn High Road a hired double decker bus passes us, full of flag and banner waving protestors of Sisi's coup in Egypt. Give them the thumbs up. There are still Canadian journalists imprisoned there.

Saturday, April 12/2014

We have matinée tickets for Handbagged, at the Vaudeville. It's a transfer from The Tricycle, where it was sold out when we tried in November. A witty play imagining conversations, and the relationship, between Maggie Thatcher as prime minister and the queen, with whom she has weekly meetings. Two actors playing the queen and two Mrs Thatcher, enabling each character to have internal debates, reminiscences and asides on a minimalist stage. Two male actors play all the other parts - George Bush, Ronald Reagan (and Nancy!), Dennis Thatcher, Neil Kinnock, a butler, Michael Portillo, and more. Cleverly done, and with asides to the audience along the lines of I've a lot of parts to play but work is in short supply and you take the roles you can get. A real pleasure. And a bargain as well. To begin with we found £25 tickets on the Telegraph web site for £16. Then we arrive at the theatre to find that we've been upgraded to the stalls (and yes we do realise that's because it hasn't sold out). So excellent seats about ten rows back and in the centre.

Would like to say that the day concludes in the same vein, but it doesn't quite. We decide to picnic in, in front of the telly, rather than eat out, in the interests of which we go for Marks and Spencer's "two can dine for £10" deal. You get to choose a main dish - normally meat or fish - a side vegetable or salad, a dessert, and a bottle of wine for £10. The difficulty from the picnic point of view is that some of the choices are clearly designed to be eaten hot. No problem with the wine or some of the desserts, and the side can be a salad. Of the mains this leaves two chicken and leek pies, which would be good hot but should be fine cold and a rotisserie chicken, whose only problem seems to be that there will be too much of it - but then we needn't finish it. Well, that's its only problem until we get home and realise that it's uncooked, and of course uncookable. So we offer it to the kind couple who own the hotel (small, family run). And collect a couple of burgers which go fine with the salad, dessert and wine.

Friday, April 11/2014

London Overground again, this time from Whitechapel to Haggerston to see Alexander and Flora, for our postponed visit. They are fortunate enough to have - for the next two weeks anyway, as the house has been sold - a huge old fashioned basement kitchen (and three storeys above it), so they have moved a double bed into it, which still leaves room for two tables, one of them a long scrubbed wood one that would seat a dozen easily, and the aga. So Flora can recuperate in the heart of the house. She looks tired but seems in good spirits. Roddy, Alexander's brother, comes over. We saw him a year ago performing with his experimental group Quorn. And A goes out to pick up fish and chips round the corner on Kingsland. Our last visit before they move to Newton, just south of Cambridge.