View from my hotel window overlooking Cartwright Gardens
Sunday, October 4
At home in London…and it does feel
like home, because I’ve stayed in the same place on most of my trips of
the past 35 years, the George in Cartwright Gardens. A fairly low-priced (for
London) b & b in Bloomsbury, it's lately
been refurbished, so the rooms now have wood floors instead of dirty carpet,
and modern marble showers. It’s quiet because it’s on a small crescent park, not a busy street, and you overlook the
trees. Good wifi, English breakfast, and all conveniences
available round the corner: market, pharmacy, post office, excellent Indian
restaurant, plus it’s near the Russell Square tube, a direct ride to Heathrow. Only
down side is that you have to lug your luggage up several flights of stairs,
but I figure it’s good for me. Arrived after 10 so had to ring the night bell,
but am very comfortable.
Breakfast room
Breakfast
In the morning, after my Full English breakfast (very full!), I sallied out to the planned Dove Meet. The Doves are members of the Dove Grey Books online reading group, that derives its name from Persephone Books (which are dove colored) but also includes other vintage works of middlebrow women’s fiction in addition to that published by Persephone Press. It’s a small and very congenial group, whose members, mostly English or American, have enjoyed a most peaceful and friendly acquaintance for at least a decade. I think we tend to measure it by the age of Simon of Stuck-in-a-Book, at http://www.stuckinabook.com/ who was a 17-year-old Oxford undergraduate when we first knew him, and is now, unbelievably, thirty. (Still less than half my age, though.) Several Doves, like Simon, are book bloggers; but all love books.
A Walk on Hampstead Heath
Path on the Heath
Doves Barbara, Claire, Deb and Carole
Barbara and Claire
After two weeks of solid gold
English sunshine, there was the first light rain today, but it did not impede
our plans for a walk on Hampstead Heath.
I arrived at Daunts Bookshop in Hampstead a few minutes late, having had
a rather muddled time getting there - I was misinformed by a bus driver,
couldn't find the right bus and ended up taking the tube to Belsize Park and
having to walk quite a way uphill. But I was overjoyed to see Barbara, Deb, and
Claire, already well launched on book chat. We walked out onto the Heath, and
strolled for about an hour, by ponds and through fields and copses, enjoying
lovely views. The soft drizzle was just enough to be refreshing, on the carpets
of green. The only drawback was that the packed, exciting nature of my trip
(Edinburgh - Lake District - Liverpool - Cambridge - Oxford - London, in 2
weeks) caught up with me with a thump, and I was more tired and lagging than at
any other time on the trip. But I got a rest at the delightful Holly Bush Inn,
tucking into a lunch of crab sandwiches and chips.
Barbara arranged all the proceedings with the perfection that makes England so impressive on occasions from royal parades on down, and we re-entered the Heath and met up with another Dove, Carole, at exactly the precise moment at the precise pond! Along the way Deb conducted a most efficiently illuminating discussion of the postal books we exchange throughout the year; it was fun to have read so many together and to be talking about them face-to-face for the first time! Veering off the Heath, we took a peep at the house of Elizabeth Jenkins, where she wrote "The View from Downshire Hill." Then we parted, and I went to Keats's house, but it was closed. Not too disappointed, as I’ve been there before, and was so very tired I was staggering. So I took a bus directly back to Bloomsbury, and took a NAP. Revived in time for dinner and the second half of the Dove day, meeting Barbara, Simon and Julie at Ciao Bella near my hotel. We had lovely friendly Doveish chat, delicious prosciutto pizza and desserts (chocolate zabaglione), very cozy while it was noisy within and rainy without. A wonderful Dove Day, made special by seeing old friends Barbara, Simon and Claire, and meeting Deb, Carole and Julie for the first time in person, though I have known them long and loved them well!
Barbara arranged all the proceedings with the perfection that makes England so impressive on occasions from royal parades on down, and we re-entered the Heath and met up with another Dove, Carole, at exactly the precise moment at the precise pond! Along the way Deb conducted a most efficiently illuminating discussion of the postal books we exchange throughout the year; it was fun to have read so many together and to be talking about them face-to-face for the first time! Veering off the Heath, we took a peep at the house of Elizabeth Jenkins, where she wrote "The View from Downshire Hill." Then we parted, and I went to Keats's house, but it was closed. Not too disappointed, as I’ve been there before, and was so very tired I was staggering. So I took a bus directly back to Bloomsbury, and took a NAP. Revived in time for dinner and the second half of the Dove day, meeting Barbara, Simon and Julie at Ciao Bella near my hotel. We had lovely friendly Doveish chat, delicious prosciutto pizza and desserts (chocolate zabaglione), very cozy while it was noisy within and rainy without. A wonderful Dove Day, made special by seeing old friends Barbara, Simon and Claire, and meeting Deb, Carole and Julie for the first time in person, though I have known them long and loved them well!
"The View from Downshire Hill"
Tuesday
Had a good sleep, and rested
completely after the trip down from Oxford and the walking day with the Doves.
Today I took it easy, moving in leisurely fashion with no engagements. After my
full English breakfast, I bought a new wheely bag for all my sundry
acquisitions (books, jams) at the Russell Sq. tube stop and brought it back up
to the room. Then took the tube to Covent Garden and had a leisurely wander, people
and shop watching, stopping for a look at Henrietta Place where Henry Austen
lived, and then enjoying cappuccino and a very nice eclair at Cafe Valerie.
Henrietta Street, shades of Henry Austen
Eclair, Patisserie Valerie
It
was beautiful and sunny, so I walked down to the Strand to Somerset House
overlooking the Thames. Never knew how impressive it was before, gleaming white
and huge, with silver sculptures, and a beautiful river terrace. You could
easily spend all day there, going from gallery to gallery.
Beautiful Somerset House
The river terrace at Somerset House
View of St. Paul's from the terrace
Canaletto's 1750 "The Thames from Somerset House across the City"
Better image than mine. It is thrilling to see Canaletto's view, and to be on the same spot.
I contented myself entirely with a visit to the Courtauld Gallery, the most exquisitely beautiful, small
museum - not too vast in extent to be exhausting, but divine to move from one
rapturously beautiful painting after another, some of which I photographed. Apart from the above Canaletto, my favorite was Monet's Vase of Flowers, 1880:
But I also loved these. The Courtauld has the best collection of Cezannes in Britain...
Cezanne, Farm in Normandy, Summer. 1887.
Cezanne, The Card-Players, 1896.
Walter Sickert. Dawn, Camden Town, 1909.
Picasso. Yellow Irises, 1901. A very early painting, Picasso would have been 20 when he painted this
When
tired, I repaired to the Courtauld's café, which friend Ron Dunning had mentioned was a
specially good one. My eye was immediately captivated by a Giant
Meringue with the loveliest summer berries and clotted cream! I could see nothing else, and slowly ate the
entire thing, with lots of tea. Despite my absorption in the meringue, it was also a great place for people-watching, especially chic rich yet artistic cultivated ladies and their daughters.
Then it grew time for me to meet Britt-Arnhild,
another blogging friend from Norway, who does several beautiful blogs about her
life there and her travels; these have made me determined to visit Norway
someday!
We had arranged to meet at 6, in the Italian Gardens in Hyde Park, at
the top of the Serpentine. But the sun had gone in, and it was pouring! Luckily I had provided myself with an
umbrella, and the kind lady at the Courtauld told me exactly how to get to the
Italian Gardens: walk up to Holborn, then a couple of tube stops to Lancaster
Gate. Easy trip, but at rush hour what awfully massive crowds, five minutes of
that exhausts you like hours of anything else. The gardens were right opposite
the tube though, and they were beautiful, even with fountains dripping with
rain. Britt-Arnhild and I had a pleasant Italian meal (spaghetti seafood) at ASK
nearby, then she showed me her hotel, very similar to the George (though I like
being in Bloomsbury). Then I took the tube back to Euston Square, and my
shelter from the storm.
Britt-Arnhild and me at Ask
The Italian Gardens
Wet!
My clothes have, strangely enough, been just right for the trip. It’s been warmer than expected, so I never needed a sweater, but I did use two very light jackets. Several Chico tops, a couple pairs of Eileen Fisher pants, mostly worn with black sneakers but also with one pair of pretty flats, and that was about it. Essential to travel lighter as one gets older, though it’s a disagreeable algorithm!
Wednesday
After another good rest, it was time for (sound of trumpets!) my day with dear Ron Dunning. As his wife has been ill,* he didn’t drive in to pick me up, but it wasn’t hard for me to get to him. Direct line train from St. Pancras (which is right near my hotel) to Peckham Rye, where we met, and were soon briskly embarked on our day’s activities. First, we drove to the Dulwich Gallery, which I’ve long wanted to see, and it did not disappoint. Imagine seeing it and the Courtauld, such a pair of beauties, in two days!
*Helena sadly passed away a few weeks after my trip. Gallantly brave, strong, gracious and beautiful, she was.
Me at Dulwich Gallery
Princess Victoria Age 4, by Denning
Head of an Old Man by Annibale Carraci, 1512 - I have fallen in love with the great Bolognese artist.
Another beautiful Venetian Canaletto to delight me. The Bucintoro at the Molo on Ascension Day (1760).
Prud'hon's beautiful young men, in a special exhibition, "Prud'hon: Napoleon's Draughtsman."
After a good browse round, and some judicious book purchases, we drove to The Red House, where William Morris designed and lived. The house is rather bare inside, though with some interesting features; the attractive windows looking out over the gardens were especially lovely. Beautiful gardens, where we strolled, ending with a nice Victoria sponge and tea at the café.
Ron at The Red House
The Red House
My indefatigable, informative, intelligent guide.
The stove
A Rossetti painting at The Red House
But I liked the windows best...
Scarecrow in the garden - supposedly modeled on Morris himself
Pears in the garden
A final sentiment by Georgiana Burne-Jones
After The Red House we drove to a beautiful 18th century house, Danson in Bexleyheath, which had a particularly lovely English garden. Then through Greenwich, where we saw the Cutty Sark and the outside of the Royal Naval Academy, just at twilight. Then drove back to Bloomsbury and had a wonderful Indian dinner at my favorite Motijheel in Marchmont Street, open till midnight, very inexpensive, and just around the corner from my hotel. Now to bed!
Danson House
Passion flowers in the English Garden
Quick stop in Greenwich - the Cutty Sark and views on the Thames
Thursday
British Museum in the morning, and then headed for the airport, where I calmed nerves with a sit-down at Fortnum and Mason, having tea with delicious cheeses and pear chutney. Nice smooth flight home, was actually able to watch a bad movie or two, and then was blissfully reunited with my family, Peter, Paul, Pindar, Martial and Catullus. Only down side was getting acclimatized to temps of 90 F instead of 60!
Fortnum's at the airport. Lovely Lancashire cheese and pear chutney.
The jams and Fortnum creams I brought home!
