John and Laurel came to visit from Oxford. They are there while she is on fellowship (two fellowships?). Her studies sound fascinating or at the very least she is heartily enthusiastic about them. She's studying obscure ancient poetry in the original language and probably written by women. The only poetry of that time written by women and just a few poems. I was fascinated.
Anyway, they are great fun. Ralph relaxed for the first time in a while. He's upstairs working now. We skipped our traditional Sunday brunch out for the first time since we started months or years ago. Too much traipsing about yesterday. Too inviting being home. It's a moody day: cloudy one minute, sunny the next. I'm treating myself to a mixture of orange juice, lime, and lemon sold at the store. I couldn't resist the combination. They have all sorts of juice combinations packaged in cartons. I had a pastry too. I'm probably gaining weight as I write this. No scales here.
So, for the record, we went to Ottolenghi's restaurant in Soho for a 10:00 reservation. The name of the restaurant is not coming to me. It was very good and expensive, as before, though not as incredibly scrumptious as the first time when we went in Islington. It was a very late night.
We slept late on Saturday. So we were off, after pastries (oh the pounds) to have brunch at a patisserie in Bloomsbury (I think you'd say it's Bloomsbury or maybe not.) Then we walked all over. Ralph made up the course as we went. Through Piccadilly Circus past Whole Foods. At some point we passed Saville Row and had to go down. Ralph was bold enough to go in an open door there. We pretended we were comfortable there. At least I was pretending. There were no prices on the clothing. It was men's wear off the rack. Just beautiful fabrics and cuts. Wonderful colors. A treat. Finally a young clerk came over and addressed us and ended up explaining to me that they had only been open a few days and have branched out from their original store which is--and I cannot think of the term they use for made to order clothes. One second while I try to find it. "Bespoke" is the term. He said all of the other stores on Saville Row have always and traditionally only provided shopping by appointment. You make an appt. and they make the clothes especially to fit you. I had fun fantasizing what it would be like to have the money to just go in and say, "Design my wardrobe." The clerk was charming and cordial. I think he must have recognized that we were tourists and not seriously shopping but he was welcoming. Ralph tried on a jacket. A blue jacket with a modern cut. It looked great. Very cool. The asking price was 500 dollars or 500 pounds. I think dollars. His birthday is coming up and with my having $160 haircuts hard to deny him--or very easy to deny him, depending on my point of view. Another day, perhaps. What a momento. What a treat. In another life. A casual jacket.
There seemed to be several streets of designer houses. Familiar famous name brands. And in Ralph Lauren's window these manikins dressed in clothes that were made for me to love. Oh. LOVED them. If I do say so, they would have looked fabulous on me when I was 123 pounds for so long. I was drooling. At least I'm pretty sure they would only disappoint me now so I wasn't so sorry I couldn't go in and moan at the impossible prices. If only. Again in another life. Haven't seen people dressed like that so far. Maybe haven't been in the right part of town or at the right time of day.
We went past an old (aren't most of them old?) brick building in front of which was a tour guide with a crowd. It was a quiet street. He described how this building would once have been in a more pastoral setting. We caught him late in his talk so all I caught no facts and only gathered that this was a building of some importance. Ralph looked on the map and found that it was St James Palace. We were approaching St James Park so. Next to it was a plaster house with a plaque on it. This was the only information anywhere around. I read the plaque which said this house was built by a king for his son's betrothed. Before it was finished they must have parted and it was later finished for his second betrothed whom he married. Now I've looked up what appears to be the Queen's Chapel but what I read there does not much, if at all correspond to what I've just written. I'll have to look further. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen's_Chapel. Okay, this is more like it: http://www.royal.gov.uk/TheRoyalResidences/TheChapelsRoyal/History.aspx. Started in 1623. Queen Victoria, according to the first link, lay in state there. I looked up St James Palace last night. Interesting that with such a history, it is not labelled outside at all. http://www.royal.gov.uk/TheRoyalResidences/StJamessPalace/StJamessPalace.aspx
"Built largely between 1531 and 1536, St. James's Palace was a residence of kings and queens of England for over 300 years. It remains the official residence of the Sovereign, although, since the accession of Queen Victoria in 1837, the Sovereign has lived at Buckingham Palace. High Commissioners present letters and Ambassadors are still formally accredited to the Court of St. James's for this reason.
The palace was built by Henry VIII on the site of the Hospital of St. James, Westminster. Much survives of the red-brick building erected by Henry VIII, including the Chapel Royal, the gatehouse, some turrets and two surviving Tudor rooms in the State apartments..."
The history goes on and on. Queen Victoria was married in the Chapel Royal there. Princess Diana lay in state there for family and friends. Kings and queens' principal residence was there for 300 years. And, again, there is no signage. It's still used.
On to St James Park. I am still in my nightgown and am getting cold now while writing this! Ralph, I can hear, is showering. I'm a disgrace but having fun writing this. St James Park had been recommended to me by a friend of Alberto as very beautiful. It is. The photos I made don't do it justice. You can see, if you look closely, the London Eye in the distance. It appears closer in person. We didn't elect to go to see Buckingham Palace at the far end of the park. I think I'd like to see it.
We decided to go to the theater district in the west end. And so we did. I wonder if we'll make it to any contemporary plays while we're here.
Back through Trafalgar Square. On to Covent Garden. There is lot we could do there. A highly recommended place to have tea is there. We passed through and resisted a French sweet the name of which I cannot remember. A cookie which costs 1.75 pounds.
We had a hard time finding a pub. Finally. Wish I could remember the name. I had very good fish cakes and a pint. From there we went on the tube to Marble Arch to put John and Laurel on the bus to Oxford. Ralph I found ourselves just south of where I went for a haircut on Friday. It appears to be a little shopping district for apparel. Clothes more on our scale, I think. One of the department stores is there. Selfridges. Didn't see it except on the map and too tired to look. Took the same bus I took on Friday and, exhausted completely, walked home.
Frozen pizza and salad and movie on Netflix. "Late Bloomers" with William Hurt (good to see him again) and Isabella Rossellini (charming). About coming to terms with getting old.
Just to go back a little, I had my hair cut Friday. Some trepidation. We all know how hard it is to have an unsatisfactory haircut. But this recommendation came from a discerning English woman.
It was the first outing I have planned on my own. Plotted the course on Google Maps. Bus ride from Camden Town. This was not easy. I was prepared to determine on which side of the street would be a bus headed south. I passed a turn I was supposed to make. Had to back track. Found the proper street and had no notes about how far was the bus stop. Walked quite a ways and it was a one way street going not south, I thought, so I was unnerved. Saw the bus stop on the other side of the street and the saw the bus at the traffic light where I was trying to cross. Missed it. Followed it down Camden Rd. and had an 11 minute wait for the next one. Good thing I'd planned to arrive early. An older woman came down the sidewalk at the bus stop where people were crowded and she loudly said in a commanding voice while waving her hands, "Get out of my way, you fuckers!" Children laughed. Ha. A spectacle. Am I going to be late? Tap tap. So the bus came and now I had to figure out when we reached the proper place to "alight". Not as hard as I'd thought. Made it to the right street and walked and walked and walked. Arrived with a couple of minutes to spare and some jangled nerves.
The service was wonderful. Very welcoming. The hairdresser was exacting and thoughtful. She recommended color and I scheduled it for next week. I loved the cut and told her so. Happy. Oh, and I'd searched the internet about tips. Not a lot of help there as there were widely varying opinions ranging from no tip at all to 10%. Well, if you read my Facebook post you know the bill was 95 pounds or 160 U S dollars. Denial set in. I tipped the shampoo young lady 2 pounds and the dresser 5 pounds. Umph. I was happy walking down the street, never mind the bill. Exceptionally beautiful breezy sunny day and a pretty street. Had to consult the map and my notes and deduce on what street the bus would run and I was right. I made it.
Now I have to decide to break the hair color appt. Would be nice to see what she would do. I have, I started to say no idea, but I have some idea how much it would be and I really can't rationalize the extravagance. Ralph isn't saying anything except wow to the cost. After all, it's my money.
Another note off the subject. I am alternately hot and cold here. Jacket or sweater off and on constantly. Wet brow pretty often when others have on sweaters and scarves. Carrying Kleenex. Always have my trusty cardigan with me. And I need a pedicure.
Okay, I've dressed and lunched and am off to other things. Not sure what yet. May read Ralph's students' reviews of Richard III. He says they are very perceptive. Sounds fun to me. Thank you if you read this far!
A tacked on note for the record. The news today is that ISIS executed a British aide worker. Savages. How can they think that God wants this? As Ralph said, if they think this is the wish of God, then what must they think the devil wants? It's sickening and horrifying. And they made him read a message beforehand denouncing the U. K. Horrific. Deeply disturbing. It's strange to be here where beheadings were not uncommon in a past time. Aristocrats beheading aristocrats. I try to imagine the mind sets of the common folk of the time. It seems no one was safe.
As mentioned before, we saw St James Palace where Anne Boleyn spent the night before her marriage day. Something about engraved on the mantle is a entwined a heart with initials.
No comments:
Post a Comment