Tuesday, November 8/2016

 

To Trullo, a nice little Italian restaurant a stone's throw from Highbury and Islington tube station. Or would be if one knew which direction to throw the stone. There's confusing and obstructive construction taking place where Holloway meets St Paul's Road in a kind of U bend accompanied by a little park. Eight roads, depending on how you squint at the map, join up by the park. 

But we do negotiate it eventually. We're meeting Alexander for lunch. He's in from his village just south of Cambridge for a number of piano tuning appointments so it's a good chance to meet up. Sadly, the first time we've seen him since Flora died in September. Talk about the past, but also about the present - the American election today and Brexit. Happily for the digestive juices, we're largely in agreement. Not that the meal needs any help. Because it's lunch time, we each choose a different pasta from the primi menu and they're all delicious. Also side salads and a carafe of Italian white. Very nice. 

By the time we get back to the tube station the trains have stopped running in both directions. No explanation. Signal failure? So we take the overground to Kilburn High Road to pick up cheese and biscuits and fruit. Then home.

Begin watching election results but due to time difference there's almost nothing by 1 AM, so take the little battery radio to bed with us.  Taken very seriously by BBC 4 - even displaces shipping forecast!

Monday, November 7/2016

Chilly enough that we're thinking of places to go that don't involve a long, windy walk. Haven't been to the Albert and Victoria in a very long time and it's directly accessible from the tunnel at South Kensington tube station. As are the Science Museum and the Museum of Natural History. 

We're recruited almost immediately by a tour guide and assume initially, and a bit underenthusiastically, that we're getting a general layout of the building for future use. But it's shorter and more fun than that. A look at about ten individual items with historical background, a little humour, and quirky bits of information. Starts with a painted death mask of Henry VII, one which was carried through the streets of London on his coffin. A modest looking man who apparently disliked pomp and ceremony and, according to our guide, a man who often seemed worried. Actually, we can think of more reason for him to worry than she can. He's the man who took the throne from Richard III, and there's good reason to think that the deaths of the princes in the tower were wrongly attributed to Richard by Tudor historians who had good reason to wish to please Henry. But that's another story and not one that we raise.

My favourite of the V&A artefacts is the great bed of Ware, a large bed that dates back to the late fourteen hundreds and was still well known at the time of Shakespeare, with a reference appearing in Twelfth Night. We'd seen the bed before, but the guide has information that is new to us. The bed was located in an inn and it was possible to reserve a place in it - the bed being shared with other travellers, often strangers. Normally, the guide says, the travellers would all be male, although there was one occasion, apparently, when it was booked by a group of eight butchers and their wives - pretty crowded even for such an enormous bed! But it's certainly true, as she says, that privacy is a modern (and possibly western) value. Historically even royalty dressed - and used the toilet for that matter - with others in the room. 

Some of the art in the museum, including enormous "cartoons" by Raphael, paintings made as a preliminary for the production of tapestries, were collected by Charles I, who was quite a collector of great art before his execution. The guide tells us that Oliver Cromwell, his successor, paid tradesmen with works of art - seventy percent of which Charles II managed to get back after the Restoration. 

Sunday, November 6/2016

Up at six because the London to Brighton car rally begins at dawn, shortly after seven. Luckily the starting point is Hyde Park and we're within easy walking distance. As we walk down Bayswater a number of the antique cars pass us on their way to the park. We can hear the rattle as they come up behind us, as they're pretty old. This year's cars have to be built before 1905 to enter. Brave of the drivers, as few of the vehicles have head lamps and it's not still before sunup. Only the owners staying nearby drive to the park. The others, and there are some four hundred of them, trailer their cars in. It's colder than other years - breath visible at times - but we're well layered. I'm wearing my black cashmere pashmina between my wool cardigan and jacket and have gloves as well, although they're impossible to combine with taking photographs. 

There's a huge variety of cars - a few with names still familiar, like Renault, Daimler and Oldsmobile, but many long since buried in automotive archives. Many have been beautifully restored and brightly painted, polished until they gleam, but there are also purists, and an award for the best unrestored car. Some period costumes in evidence, despite the chill air, often contrasting oddly with the mobile phones their passengers are using to record the trip. It will be cold on the road, particularly for those with no windshield, although they are not permitted to go more than 20 mph (and some would have trouble reaching that speed). A few are steam powered, leaving their own trail of white breath in the air, and none have modern emission standards of course - we're definitely breathing intoxicating pollution!

There are some quite sophisticated cars and others so basic that they appear to consist of little more than a wooden base with a seat and a steering stick. And one or two cars raise the question of the basic definition of automobile - when does a motorcycle become a car? Above all the rally is fun. Every one of the watchers has turned up in a cold pre-dawn to watch the world's largest and oldest antique car rally - most years since 1896. And every car is a unique personality, highly individual and preserved with love.

Saturday,nNovember 5/2016

Down to Regent Street for the annual Regent Street automotive show, in conjunction with the London to Brighton car rally. The rally is for cars over a hundred years old, and quite a few of them are represented here. But there are also sparkly new concept cars, racing cars, and electric cars with 250 mile range. 

It"s Guy Fawkes night but cold enough we're not keen on going out to watch fireworkd. Some folks must be,nthough - we can hear them non- stop till midnight or later.

Friday, November 4/2016

Queensway as a barometer of London life. Are times tougher? Whitelys - once a posh department store with history and now a shopping centre - has seven empty shops that we count on the ground floor. Plus a card shop that has signs saying it's closing, sale prices, everything must go. Though that's a bit iffier. The overpriced cards haven't been marked down, though the tackier of the overpriced gifts have. Anything I might be at all interested in remains with original sticker. 

There are occasional beggars on the street, though maybe no more than there used to be. Last year I walked past a tall middle aged man looking for donations and was appalled when he shouted angrily "I know you hate Jews!" Don't know whether I was more horrified at being accused, totally unfairly, of anti-Semitism or, equally unfairly, of selecting recipients of charity by ethnicity or religion. In any case, it certainly hadn't occurred to me that he was Jewish, Jewish beggars being, in my experience, rare to the point of non-existence. Or maybe, as this experience illustrates, I just wouldn't know.

 There are buskers, saxophonists and sometimes a double bass player, but they are considerably more cheerful and can reasonably be classed as self-employed. The kids who used to hang round the tube at night looking for day passes with a little life left in them are gone, probably down to the use of chip cards and oysters (loadable transit cards).

 J points out that each time a shop on the street closes it seems to be replaced with a restaurant or food shop - some ethnic and others mini versions of supermarkets, Tesco and Sainsbury's. Mostly pubs or chains appealing to tourists, of which there are quite a lot more than there used to be. This is not an asset, as tourists raise local prices without improving the quality or distinctiveness of offerings. Our memories of this street go back more than 27 years, and in fact our first meal together was here - in a fish and chip shop long since disappeared.

Thursday, November 3/2016

Christmas songs and cheery red menu at Starbucks. To say nothing of disgustingly sweet candy flavoured coffees. Well, guess it's a matter of taste. They did wait until after Hallowe'en, though not Remembrance Day. Advent, of course, a forgotten concept.

Foray down Goldhawk Road in Shepherd's Bush. There's a stretch of the road that's home to a dozen or two fabric shops, most of which seem to be run by Sikhs. Plenty of attractive, sometimes exotic, material. But as usual I'm looking for black corduroy. Thin on the ground,and most of it with baby fine wale. One of the shop owners explains: heavy weight corduroy is bulky to ship and store - and then people buy teo, maybe three yards. Things are tough. The Chinese are charging more, more than Hong Kong. And Brexit? Of course - the pound is down 20%.

Side trip along Shepherd's Bush Market. It's pretty quiet, though maybe not for a week day. Feels a bit down on its luck, with as many vendors as purchasers. Most of it not high quality, and not underpriced either.  Souvenir mugs for £2 that sell for half that on Queensway. But back on Goldhawk Road we do find some corduroy that may serve the purpose.

Then back to Kilburn for supper. Thursday is kleftiko night at Roses, J's favourite. Roses is often home to elderly single men, but the one sitting next to us is a little beyond eccentric. He's not only talking to himself, he's as convincing as any actor in a one man play. Tonal variation, gestures and all - it's clear he can see a companion on the other side of the table. At times he seems, with a question, to want to draw us into the conversation, and we daren't make eye contact. As I whisper to J, it's not that I mind, but I wouldn't know what to say to "the other guy." There are other reasons for not looking, besides ingrained injunctions going back to childhood regarding the rudeness of staring. A quick glance reveals that his jaw seems to incorporate a defective spring: it drops farther than seems possible and looks like it will be unable to close again - though slowly and improbably it does. 

Wednesday, November 2/2016

Head for the Imperial War Museum. Train inexplicably (well, inexplicably or we haven't been paying attention) doesn't stop at Lambeth North Station, so we get off at Elephant and Castle, which lets us poke around the shopping centre and market - and also discover that the Polish restaurant, Mamuska, which we first assume must have closed, has expanded into premises across the road. So on the list for a future meal.

Short walk over to the museum. There's a World War I exhibit on, which proves to be lmore comprehensive and better than we'd expected. Starts with a bit of a profile of pre-war Britain. The average wage was £1.40 a week, with a pint costing 2p. Well, inflation hits everything, but that means a pint costing 1/70 of a weekly income, so you can calculate from there. Some of the other stats require no conversion. Legal school leaving age was 12, and by 16 only 6% of students were still attending. In the west end of London the average age at death was 55 - in the poorer east end it was 30. So going back to the England that used to be looks a little less attractive than Brexiteers would have it. Some things don't change for the better though - one percent of the population controlled 70% of the wealth. Which in those pre-war days left one person in 20 emigrating in search of a better life. When war broke out, the minimum height for men joining up was 5'3, raised to 5'6 by October as overwhelming numbers volunteered but dropped to 5'2" by July 2015 as the war took its toll.

The display includes weapons, uniforms, battle information, home front social changes. And it stresses the tragic pointlessness as much as the courage and dedication. Over a million killed at the Somme, nearly 20,000 of them on the first day. A battle that was eventually, after about five months, abandoned as hopeless on both sides. Pretty thorough, although, as J points out, one would scarcely have thought Canada was there. Then, after we leave, we see what appears at first to be a modern abstract sculpture. Turns out to be the remains of a car, a vehicle that had not survived an explosion in 2007 Iraq that killed 32 people. Not much progress.

Tuesday, November 1/2016

Tube to West Harrow to visit Jean. J collecting leaves from the plane trees (or sycamores - both have leaves shaped like giant maple leaves). The leaves have turned a golden brown, though, and not red. Temp has dropped to about 11, but guess it is November. Quiet visit with catch up, reminiscing, and curry. Wish it were more than twice a year.

Monday, October 31/2016

  Still a little misty, as befits Hallowe'en, but warm, and the sun's out. Afternoon temperatures hit 18. Down to Charing Cross to activate the renewed UK debit card. Errand accomplished, the warm sun is too much a gift to waste, so we walk over the busy footbridge to the South Bank. Plenty of others enjoying the last of the lovely weather, a few of them in costume, including a small girl dressed in shiny purple as a miniature witch, with father taking photographs. Pick up the brochure at the National Theatre. We'll have to see what we can fit in. Extensive stalls with second hand books, and, my favourite, old photographs and prints. Manage not to buy any - maybe next time. Tube to Kilburn for a bit of shopping at Aldi's and home.🎃

Sunday, October 30/2016

Foggy and overcast. Changed to winter time during the night - two AM to be precise - so actually lighter earlier than it would have been yesterday. London is pretty far north as well (51.5074 degrees), which leads to short winter days, so the time change will mean sunset at 4:35 pm. Do end up wondering what hope there is for world peace when we can't even agree on a universal date for moving the clocks (or indeed whether to do so). 

Camden High Street crowded as usual on a Sunday, when its small tube station is exit only. We emerge to see a street entertainer doing the limbo. He's all performance, shaking dramatically as he passes under the bar, which at this point is high enough that I could do it, but we don't stay for the finale. With Hallowe'en looming we've been encountering grim reapers, clowns and the walking dead on the underground. Here there are, as always on a weekend, throngs of young people overspilling the sidewalk, though there may be more Goths, and are certainly more vampires, than usual. Queues at Lidl stretch all the way to the back of the store - not worth stopping for one jar of sun dried tomatoes despite the attractive 85p (€0.94, $1.37 CAD) price. Back just in time to catch the beginning of Mexican Grand Prix coverage at six.

 

Saturday, October 29/2016

Still mild, though a bit misty. Tube and Dockland Light Railway to Greenwich, a bit slower and more crowded because, as usual on a weekend, service is suspended on several lines and the remaining ones are overburdened. The market is buzzing - ethnic foods and some pretty imaginative crafts - like glass liquor bottles, flattened heaven only knows how to serve as plates or bases for clocks. Also jewellery, cartoons, old photographs, scarves, carvings, etc. We're only a short block from Goddard's, the pie shop that has been family run in Greenwich for over a hundred years. It used to be a classic, cheap and delicious pies with mash and peas, fruit crumbles, gravy or custard (depending) overflowing. Not health food exactly, but superb comfort food served at long scrubbed wood tables with large mugs of tea or bottled beer. After a bit of family upheaval it closed briefly and then moved from its original premises a couple of blocks away. It's never quite recovered, though. Prices have, understandably, risen - they do over time - but the food is not quite what it was. Pies are definitely smaller, with a higher ratio of crusts to content. Servings of everything are diminished. Some of the original basics, like peas, have become extra. It's crowded as of old, the queue reaches the door, so it's hard to argue with the economics, but the assumption is that the patrons are not old locals. Last time we were here the server had no knowledge of the previous location. It's just another Greenwich eating spot. We may not be back.

On the packed train coming home an Asian woman offers me her seat, and I accept gratefully as I'm carrying bags with two bottles of wine. A stop or two later she gets a seat but promptly offers it to J, who is carrying four bottles of wine, but much more discreetly than I. Naturally he declines. She does succeed a little later in giving the seat to a woman with a small child. Confirmation of my entirely unscientific observation that seats are most frequently offered by young Asian men, followed closely by young Asian women.

Friday, October 28/2016

Cyclamen from the corner flower sellers (small pot for £1) brightening our room. Lovely moving back into a room that we've stayed in so often that we know where things go as we unpack. Delighted to find that the pay as you go mobile is still working. It's supposed to be good for six months non-use without dying, but it's been six months plus a day, so had low expectations. Think there was about £9 ($14.58 CAD) on it, so that should more than cover more than the three weeks we're here for this time and take us well into next spring's stay.

Super weather. Temp midday about 16 or 17. Light jackets. Up Kilburn High Road. No major signs of financial disaster and prices don't seem to have risen much - though some packages may have shrunk a little in order to remain the same price. As usual, fruit and veg bought on the street corners a much better deal than those in supermarkets. £1 for half a kilo of red grapes - one of the easier fruits to keep for snacking with no kitchen facilities. Earlyish supper at Roses. Cod and chips, excellent as always. High proportion of Roses' [yes, the apostrophe is in the right place] patrons are elderly singles, clearly regulars. Women usually in pairs or part of a couple. The men engaging in what I think of as pub style socialising. They concentrate on the meal or read a paper while they eat - there's a few newspapers near the till for the purpose - but there are sporadic bits of chat about sport or events, and it seems the blokes know each other. The singles are known to the East European waitresses too, and leave to a cheery "see you tomorrow".

Thursday, October 27/2016

A hundred and nine miles from London. Can smell the coffee. There still is coffee. Can faintly remember when there was breakfast on international flights. Think that there are faint memories of hot breakfasts - but perhaps that was a dream. Meal consists of a slice of very cold cake, 8"x5.5". Very sweet. Wonder what they do if you've ordered the diabetic meal. Substitute dry bread? Withhold the slice? Suspect that this is in preparation for abandonment of free meals entirely. Have noticed that when other airlines do this half the commentary is about how outrageous the omission is while the other half is along the lines of what rubbish the food was and how little it will be missed. In all fairness, though, the coffee is fresh brewed and a great improvement on the stewed cigarette butt flavour of years gone by.

Stewardess passes out landing cards to be filled in by anyone whose passport is neither UK nor EU. Or EU citizens practising for post Brexit? One more government expense post Brexit. And queues at Heathrow lasting long after your luggage has disappeared from the carousel. Indeed after a ten minute walk to immigration and a forty minute wait in queue our carousel has long ceased moving and our suitcases, with a half dozen companions, are waiting in a lonely clump. Not stolen, anyway, though it must be getting easier to do so. Can't blame the immigration clerks either. Ours is friendly but says when we suggest more staff and higher pay, that the opposite has occurred - her pay has been cut twenty percent. Amazing amount of patience and good humour about. Though maybe not always, as there are plenty of signs warning against abuse of staff. Things can only get worse when the other EU countries join the immigration lines.

Walking from Bayswater tube station to our temporary home in the heart of London, zone 1, a large, healthy looking fox tears across the road in front of us, at an intersection just off Queensway.

Wednesday, October 26/2016

Ian kindly drops us at the airport, so we're off. Well nearly. Flight half an hour late and oversold. Must have found a volunteer for their $400 compensation in return for waiting for the next flight though, as they don't reannounce the offer. Flight from Ottawa not overfull, though. Electrical connections at each seat, which is good because there were only two per departure lounge at the airport. Dinner tasteless nursery food, but wine quite drinkable.

Tuesday, October 25/2016

Visit Anna and Jeff and the little boys, who are in the process of moving into a newly built house in an endless east Winnipeg conglomeration of same, colonising the prairie for miles. Some houses already sporting green lawns, though, and trees with bundled roots lying by drives ready for instant landscaping. House full of light and still smelling new. Boys busy with toy trains on the floor. J and Ian spend considerable time installing a baby gate with obscure instructions at the bottom of the stairs, hampered somewhat by four year old Riley's removal of two bits of hardware to an upstairs bedroom.

Our last taste of pickerel for the year as Susan, somewhat unfairly as she was the only one at work today, produces a lovely fish fry.

Monday, October 24/2016

Technically it's Monday, as the train leaves at nine minutes after midnight. And it's on time - in fact early - which is nice, since VIA sees fit to provide info only for the Windsor Quebec corridor, hundreds of miles to the east of us, after business offices close for the day. Relatively easy to find the info for making claims when the train has been several hours late, an obvious admission that this happens frequently, but no method for avoiding spending said hours in the station instead of in the comfort of your one's home. Actually Patrick, who is seeing off a friend, says that, surprisingly, if you keep calling the number that professes to be for business hours only, eventually (and presumably randomly) someone may answer. 

Notice the sign on the toilet wall requesting that passengers refrain from flushing while the train is in the station. But surely raw sewage is no longer spewed on the tracks? No? Well, googling reveals that this is indeed still the case. Not only here but in The UK as well - and quite probably most of the rest of the world, to which my computer set up is less sensitive. VIA claims it would take government millions to acquire holding tanks, the British papers are full of complaints, railway workers are subjected to disgusting effluent, and the Atlanta centre for disease control insists there is no health hazard. There you have it.

The train is warm enough - not a given - and only half full, so we have the comfort of two facing double seats. Almost lying flat space as the footrests can be made to meet at seat level. 

Train in at 7 - an hour early - and we're allowed to disembark at half past, once the station staff are on duty. Ian kindly picks us up after dropping Susan at work. Our first  visit since he retired. Some advantages here, as he heats potato soup made with potatoes from Susan's garden. Very nice.

Friday, April 29/2016

You can't go home again. Or can you? Final leg of our journey home. The train is late in arriving at the station in Winnipeg - not unusual - and we get talking to a soft-spoken man who is moving home to the Gaspé after an absence of forty-two years. He's retired now and just made up his mind. Didn't even tell most of his mates. Speaks affectionately of a woman he knows who has sent him birthday and Christmas cards through the years. Just a friend or is he hoping for more? He's not from Winnipeg. Thompson maybe? Spent the afternoon at Polo Park Mall where friends were supposed to meet him but they never showed up. You can only drink so many cups of coffee. And what will the Gaspé hold for him after the decades? He's injured himself and is walking with a cane so they pre-board him when the train comes in and we don't see him again. One unfinished story from tonight's train. 

The train, due at five in the morning gets in about 8:30. Final blog until we resume our roaming life.

Thursday, April 28/2016

Jet lagged, so that six AM feels like the noon it is in London. Get up after an hour. Ian and Susan at work but lunch with Janet and Dave, Judy and Dino. Dino just out of hospital and the restaurant chosen for its wheelchair access and accommodating staff. Dinner at home with I and S. Then Ian takes us to the station, as the train, originally meant to leave at 10:30 is delayed. Know the delay is definite when we're offered tea and biscuits.

Wednesday, April 27/2016

Airports and security. Montreal is nicer than Toronto - less hostile, politer, smaller. Luggage trolleys free. Remember for future trips. Before security at Montreal dispose of water acquired after security in London. Some unseen passenger had to dispose of what they couldn't finish of a bottle of Baileys. Empty and half empty bottles accumulating on the benches before the security queue.

Saturday, April 23/2016

To Thames Ditton to see Jenny and Doug and family. Farmers' market on outside the George and Dragon pub, so we have a quick look and a couple of tastes while the rain makes up its mind and decides against. Our first view of Morris dancers - entertaining, though rather in the vein of a Black Adder parody? Everyone there for lunch - Jenny's mum, Laura and boys, Emma and Giles and girls - thirteen of us altogether, not including two dogs and a cat. Jenny and Doug the only people we know with a table that can accommodate such numbers, symbol of their open hospitality. Jenny off to China next month with a friend. 

Train to Waterloo instead of Wimbledon so we can stop off on the South Bank and catch the end of the Shakespeare festivities -  screens set up at intervals playing clips from the plays, all 20 plus.