18 Stafford Terrace

Saturday began as a sunny day with a nip in the air.  It was also the first time that I cursed London's tube system.  With the Circle line closed, disruptions on the District line and the lift out of order at Gloucester Road, it was a good thing I heeded the advice given on the Transport for London website to allow forty minutes to get to my destination.  Rachel, Mary and I had a date to meet at Linley Sambourne's house just off of Kensington High Street for a tour at 11:15 am.  Having grabbed a cup of tea from a cafe around the corner I spied Mary making her way towards the house.  With smiles and a hug we fell straight into a chat about the Hollywood Costume exhibit at the V&A that we had each been to the evening before.  After a bit of a wait we were ushered as part of a group into a room for a short film about Sambourne and his family, Rachel snuck in just as things were getting started - tube disruption delays had claimed another customer.

I love visiting houses and this one, says the website, '...is recognized as one of the best surviving examples of a late Victorian middle-class home in the UK.'  This rich and cosy house, absolutely dripping with decoration over almost every square inch looks to be the quintessential Victorian abode of my imagination and so lived in that its owners may have simply stepped out to take the air.  Chairs and footstools surround occasional tables, plates line rails near the wallpapered ceiling and one room even had four clocks.  Pen and ink drawings, many by Sambourne himself, lined the walls end to end and three rows high - the group laughed when told that the expensive William Morris wallpaper wasn't wasted behind any of the prints.  My favourite feature was the gorgeous stained glass windows that adorn the south windows, catching the sun.  While Sambourne was busy spending the money he earned as an artist and illustrator for Punch magazine, his wife Marion was busy keeping exact accounts of the household budget and reigning in expenditures.  I can only imagine that husband and wife would have been shocked speechless to learn that their £2,000 investment from 1875 is now worth over £6,000,000.

 
After the tour it was time for refreshments so Mary suggested The Muffin Man.  Warm and cosy, Mary and I filled up on teacakes and cake while Rachel sensibly had a hearty bowl of yummy-looking carrot soup.  How many cups of tea did we go through, I wonder?  This was my second get-together with Mary and Rachel so we talked about everyday things as though we got together all the time.  Don't I wish!  The lovely and very busy Rachel had a train to catch (only the Eurostar) bound for Paris with her friend, Naomi.  So it was up to Mary and me to close out the afternoon.  We strolled our way through Kensington Gardens and Portobello Road, stopping to look at any bookshops we passed by, even the famous Notting Hill Bookshop from the movie with Hugh Grant.  Chatting as we spied the wares on offer at what must have been a hundred stalls a moment of dread rose within me.  All that tea meant a loo break was needed and soon!  Mary pointed me in the direction of a nearby cafe and so dire was the need I neither realized, or cared, that I had whipped into the gents by mistake...oh well.  So my tiara slips every now and then, whatever.

Thanks so much for a wonderful afternoon, Rachel and Mary...you're lovely!

   Mosaic tiling in front of a townhouse on Gower Street, Bloomsbury

Highgate, Hampstead and Hollywood Costumes

After a lovely breakfast of scrambled eggs, mushrooms, tomato, toast and tea The Heiress and I set out for Highgate Cemetery, the East side.  Smaller than the west side you don't need to book a tour, just plunk down your three GBP with a staff member in the little hut by the gate, get your map and explore.  The skies were grey and we needed our umbrellas off and on but you couldn't ask for better cemetery weather (if that doesn't sound too morbid).  The photo above shows George Eliot's (1819 - 1880) grave, not far from the most unbelievably large bust of Karl Marx you could ever imagine.  I am sorry but it is hideous and scared me half to death. 

Once we had explored all of the pathways throughout the cemetery we walked down Swain's Lane so I could show The Heiress Holly Village.  Debating whether or not to knock on the door of a lovely elderly man who invited me for coffee last year when we met in Waterlow Park, a voice called out from a window near the arched entry.  When I asked about the man in the far left cottage I was told he was dying, oh dear.  If only that poor man knew how many times someone halfway around the world had thought of him over the past year.  The man from the window saw the look of sadness that spread across my face and said 'It happens to all of us' in a straightforward manner that felt far too blasé and there was nothing left to do but walk away.  Poor man.

Catching a bus to Hampstead so that The Heiress could experience Keats House I was keeping watch for 8 Downshire Hill along the way, the former home of writer Elizabeth Jenkins.  The trees were thick along the front wall of this house that Jenkins' father bought for her in 1939 but I did my best to capture a shot of something, anything.  The house numbers don't always make sense the window panes do seem to match the photo on the cover of her memoir.  The View from Downshire Hill seems to be as scarce as hen's teeth but one of these days I hope to stumble across a copy or perhaps give our inter-library loan service a try.

Now if you're ever in Hampstead and feeling a bit peckish you MUST stop at a little cafe around the corner from Keats' Grove called Polly's.  It's where I had a yummy Croque Monsieur last year and this year the most delicious bowl of spinach and chick pea soup ever!  Just the thing after a long morning of walking outside in the crisp air.  The gentleman at the counter was as friendly as before, in fact, everyone was very nice.  Next visit I must leave room for a slice of the Victoria Sponge...

The Heiress and I parted ways after we ate - she off to Camden Market and I to John Sandoe Books.  The stacks of books everywhere in that shop are legendary but it was waaay too much for me.  A woman had somehow managed to get her large dog in to the shop, the poor thing looked about as uncomfortable to turn around as I did so I left to do some damage at Cath Kidston across the road instead.  Charing Cross Road was my next stop and then on to Persephone Books before they closed for the evening.  Weighed down by books but with a smile on my face I burst through the hotel door, flopped for a few moments, and then we were off again to the V&A for their late night.  What a party that is!

Envisioning hallways dotted with the odd person seeking entertainment rather than sit in on a Friday evening I could not have been more wrong.  Techno music blared from speakers while people drank wine, danced and ran about from friend to friend in their Halloween costumes.  It was fabulous!  At the last minute we decided to buy tickets to see the Hollywood Costume exhibit and we were so glad that we did.  The exhibit rooms were darkened and soft lights shone on the clothes and costumes from such iconic films as Cleopatra, Gone With the Wind, The Seven Year Itch, Ben Hur, Elizabeth (Cate Blanchett's version AND Bette Davis's), Star Wars, Out of Africa, The Black Swan, The Blues Brothers, Dracula, Harry Potter, Saturday Night Fever and Mildred Pierce - the Joan Crawford picture and much, much more.  Right at the end was a glass case with Dorothy's ruby red slippers inside, full of little red sequins - not a ruby in sight - but still!  If this exhibit ever comes to a gallery near you - run to buy a ticket, you won't be sorry!

Tomorrow is Linley Sambourne's house with a couple of my favourite blog friends...

Suffragettes and the Strand

Waking up in Canterbury to the rattle of linen carts being unloaded directly beneath our window was as good as any alarm clock.  With practiced precision The Heiress and I moved quickly from bed to breakfast and were soon on board the hi-speed train taking us to St Pancras, London.  The fields were still lying below a haze of fog and mist so there wasn't much of a horizon to watch quite along the way.  Coincidentally, one of The Heiress's friends and her beau were travelling on the same train, really helping my daughter feel a bit less sad about leaving Canterbury behind.

Arriving at last in Bloomsbury, we quickly unpacked and made way for the Museum of London.  A fascinating treasure trove full of artifacts from the time of the Romans, Londinium and present day.  I am determined to come back here yet again as it was my second visit and my travels partners never seem to want to stay as long as I do.  The Heiress was anxious to visit The Women's Library and see their exhibit 'The Long March to Equality'.  It was the section featuring the suffragette movement that we were riveted to and has certainly spurned me on to learn more about Millicent Garret Fawcett, Katie Sliddon, Emmeline Pankhurst and Emily Davison.  Seeing their letters in person about the abuse and harassment they endured in an unrelenting pursuit for equality has touched me more than any documentary or chapter in a book.  See this exhibit if you possibly can.

Moving on next to the Strand The Heiress wanted to visit the Twinnings tea shop.  It's quite a narrow shop and was absolutely bustling with customers.  After choosing a few teas to sample back at home we made our way to the back of the shop where they house a small museum.

You really get a sense of just how precious tea was when it first arrived in England by the small tins it was kept in - or the very ornate canisters to display its importance or the owner's wealth.  We drank many cups of take-out tea to stay warm during our long days spent walking outdoors and were thankful the price has come down drastically! 

After sampling some tea poured by a lovely young sales lady we decided it was time for something to fortify ourselves before moving on to The Courtauld Institute of Art.  Ye Olde Cock Tavern has been on this site since 1887 and was a favourite drinking spot of Samuel Pepys, Charles Dickens and Dr Johnson...who could resist?  We had the most delicious steak and ale pie, mashed potatoes smothered in rich gravy and three kinds of fresh veg all glistening in butter.  Just the thing after being outside and on the move since early in the morning.

The sight of Somerset House lit up for the evening made The Heiress gasp.  It is quite a spectacular view when you don't have anything like it at home.  They are preparing the skating rink for the winter season and a lovelier evening spent outside in the cold, fresh air I can't imagine.  The Courtauld Gallery's late night meant we could squeeze in one more event before calling it a day and it was everything we could have hoped for.  If we had appeared dressed as a Roundhead or Cavalier for the Lely talk we could have got in for free but sadly there was no puffy shirt tucked away in my suitcase.

What I don't know about art could fill a massive library but I do enjoy stumbling upon works of art I have seen in books or highlighted in documentaries and I do so love to learn.  Manet's A Bar at the Folies-Bergere is one such piece that made my eyes light up when I first spied it.  So did Vincent Van Gogh's Self Portrait with Bandaged Ear, not as pretty as the Manet but definitely an iconic piece.  The Courtauld Gallery very much reminded me of The Wallace Collection in that they are manageable and intimate while being world-class in content.  Take a look at their website for a short clip featuring some of the collection, it's breathtaking and I will definitely be visiting again during my next trip. 

Tomorrow is Highgate and Hampstead...

Dover Castle

As far as medieval castles go Dover Castle is one the best examples there is.  The keep was designed by King Henry II's architect 'Maurice the Engineer' and sits high atop the iconic White Cliffs of Dover.  With walls 21 feet thick it's no wonder that the castle has stood the tests of war and time to be carefully restored to 1184.  Actually, we learned that a train of thought is that Hitler had his eye on the castle for his own use so enemy bombers were warned off.  Step inside...

There were elementary school-age children running around the entire castle, the little cherubs, and keeping their minders on their toes but I was able to get this shot of the kitchen while they were busy in another area.  Notice the thick walls.  The castle itself is beyond rustic, as you can imagine, without much in the way of adornment and halls leading in every direction like a rabbit warren.  The floors were quite bumpy, the stairs quite steep and we could only imagine how cold it would be have been without a fire raging in every room.

The underground tunnels were what initially attracted me to the castle.  These tunnels have been in use since the Napoleonic Wars and expanded during World War II.  Entering from the road we walked down what felt like a 45 degree slope until we were deep underground and I can't imagine spending more than a few hours in this environment, much less days, weeks or months.  In the photo above we were passing through the kitchen area, the corrugated steel is original to the Second World War and you can see writing by servicemen and women in some places.  During our almost hour long tour film clips were played along the walls featuring film clips from the war and speeches from various political figures of the day.  And just in case the atmosphere wasn't spooky enough - supposedly there's a ghost that wanders around the place.

There are rooms leading off of the long tunnels filled with communications equipment.  We learned about repeating stations that were needed to send messages on to distant locations as the signals weren't strong enough to go from A to B without being repeated at intervals across England.  We also passed through a tunnel lined on both sides by bunk beds without any of the comforts of home and nowhere to store belongings, giving the impression it was simply for the exhausted to grab some shut-eye.  Another set of tunnels take you to an underground hospital where we heard a tape being played of some gruesome surgery while a bombing raid affects the power system.  If you're looking for a romantic version of wartime this isn't the place.

I wanted to see the cliffs from the beach area and not just from on top so The Heiress and I walked down the steep pathway towards the town.  My 14x zoom came in handy but if you click on the photo you can better see the tunnels coming out on to the cliff face.  Oh, and you've never seen larger seagulls than the ones patrolling the area around here and they're bossy!

After a fascinating, not to mention full, day of exploring the castle, the grounds, both tunnel systems and the town, we caught the train back to Canterbury.  Arriving back five minutes before the last boat tour of the River Stour The Heiress and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to be entertained by one of their warm and friendly guides.  We sailed past historic buildings and ducked under bridges that were hundreds of years old and I could well understand why so many people have mentioned how beautiful Canterbury is.  Its residents should also be very proud of how incredibly clean the river is - no litter floating by or on the banks.  Perhaps the ducking stool hanging like a beacon in plain view from the High Street serves as a warning as to what happens to those who break the rules.  The Heiress chose one of the loveliest places to spend a year of study and I felt sorry for her having to leave.

After dinner it was time to pack up, we had to catch the 10:25 am train from Canterbury West station out to London.

Canterbury Chronicles

A heavy mist hung in the air all over Canterbury the day I arrived.  Dense fog in London had delayed planes the day before.  A good book by a roaring fire would have been the perfect thing to do but since The Heiress and I would be moving on to London in less than forty-eight hours we made our way to the Cathedral.  Stunning doesn't begin to describe the architecture and atmosphere and if you have a healthy respect for history the fact that saints and soldiers have trod these floors doesn't escape you.  The candle marks the location where the shrine to St. Thomas of Canterbury stood from 1220 - 1538 AD when it was destroyed by orders from King Henry VIII.

The tomb and effigy of Edward, the Black Prince of Wales (1330 - 1376).  A lion wearing a crown is his pillow and a dog rests at his feet.

Cultural criminology is a term created by one of the professors The Heiress worked closely with during her MA program.  Since learning more about the subject, street art has become a topic of great interest to her.  Engravings on the walls of cathedrals and castles display the same need to mark territory or express thoughts that are created on buildings and bridges today.  We saw loads of etchings dating from the 1700s while visiting Dover Castle the next day - initials, hearts and celtic knots were in abundance, dotted along walls where steps provided a comfortable place to sit for awhile.  Wasn't there wood to stack or rabbits to skin?

Strolling the grounds of the cathedral I saw trees that would take at least eight people joining hands to embrace.  And I was thrilled to finally see not one but two tiny English robins in the flesh, ours here in Canada are huge.  Despite this being my fifth trip to England I still find myself walking around in a state of wonder about so many things. 

In a thick fog, surrounded by blackest night, The Heiress took me on a bus ride to visit a lovely friend who let her stay in her flat once she had taken leave of her dorm room.  "We have to walk in the dark for a little bit but we'll be okay" she said.  So dark was it that I couldn't see the path under my feet, we were surrounded by bushes and goodness knows what else lurking in the mist.  It felt as though Halloween had come early and I didn't like it one bit!  "I don't care if we've paid for return tickets, I am NOT going back the way we just came" I said.  "Dad is going hear about this, isn't he?" said The Heiress.  The past thirteen months of absence had already melted away and it was mother and daughter business as usual.

Fodder for Daydreams

Yesterday I woke up from a dream about walking on cobbles surrounded by churches.  It was 3:40 am and there was no going back to sleep for me.  But it was awfully nice to just lie there and mull over my trip to England instead of hopping out of bed to shower and change in time to make breakfast at the B & Bs we stayed at.

After an overnight flight, a one hour tube ride to St Pancras and a one hour train ride out to Canterbury, I emerged on to the station platform expecting a melodramatic reunion with my daughter.  She was coming down the stairs as I made my way through the tunnel so we missed each other but in no time at all we were all sorted and had a cuddle for the first time in thirteen months.  What followed was nine days of adventure as The Heiress gave me a guided tour of Canterbury, we visited Dover Castle and its underground tunnels from World War II, and then moved on to the hustle and bustle of London.  Over the next few posts I'll be sharing a handful of photos (which I haven't even looked at properly myself yet) and stories of the things we did and to hopefully inspire someone out there to add a place or two to their holiday or weekend plans.

Most of my nearest and dearest who stop by here love nothing more than a bit of book porn.  Considering the nature of my trip was to help The Heiress cart back her belongings I had to keep the British Airways luggage allowance in mind while browsing.  It was torture as the bookshops are packed with so many irresistible books - really large books, perfect for drooling over on rainy days.  THE find was a first edition copy of Late and Soon by E. M. Delafield which I found in the 'G' section of the basement at Any Amount of Books on Charing Cross Road.  It pays to carefully look at every single book since people are notorious for shoving things back in any space that's handy.  The other lovely finds were from second-hand bookshops, Oxfam, Waterstones and in the case of The Book of Christmas from the V&A gift shop.  Alighting from the Russell Square tube stop one day I realized that a determined stride would have me squeezing through the door at Persephone Books before closing time at six.  Danielle from A Work in Progress kindly sent me her spare copy of A Little Dinner Before the Play by Agnes Jekyll and it was waiting for me when I got home.  Surely I will never be a fan of aspic but reading about historical menus is something I never get tired of.  In the chapter 'For the Too Fat' Agnes recommends...

'If that insidious enemy, soup, be held indispensable at dinner, at least avoid the vegetable purees and bisque's made with cream, butter, root vegetables and rich fish, also the savoury potage in which milk and flour figure, and try clear Consomme a l'Estragon, with its delicate and clean flavour.

My husband doesn't particularly like soup and that really annoys me but thinking of it as an 'insidious enemy' is hilarious.  Calories are not something to concern myself with considering all of the walking I have done recently and as the photo attests, there is jam to enjoy!  Be back soon with more trip details....

 

The Full English, If You Please...

Oh the planning that has been going on behind the scenes lately.  The emails back and forth, the research, the reading of reviews...it's all so exciting!  Tomorrow I set sail, so to speak, for England's green and pleasant land where I will be meeting up with The Heiress after tearfully parting ways just over one year ago.  We have plans to tour castles and cathedrals, museums and galleries, stroll cobbles and lane ways, and if we darken the doorway of the odd tea room along the way then we couldn't be happier.  Cross the threshold of a bookshop or seven, you bet.  Which reminds me of a question...how do you browse a newly discovered bookshop?  I start at the letter 'A' and look at every...single...book until I reach the last title in 'Z', this usually means that my long-suffering husband has time to search out a pub, order and consume a pint and browse some shops before returning to find me at 'N'. 

Our cardigan girl, Verity, has resurfaced on one of her blogs to announce that she will be hosting a chat on November 15 of Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor.  I will be signing into a few hotels over the next several days and absolutely can not wait to find out what Mrs Palfrey was paying for her room sometime before 1971 when the book was first published.  Poor thing didn't rip up half of London the way I plan to though.

And in other bookish news, I have ordered a copy of Friends and Relations by Elizabeth Bowen from The Book Depository.  You can still catch the pre-order price over the next couple of weeks and if you need any inspiration click here for Book Snob's review.  If her stunningly alluring writing style doesn't make you simply die with longing for a good read then nothing will.  There's more!  Not one hour ago, I discovered The Brickfield by L. P. Hartley is about to be reissued by John Murray Publishers and I just adore the cover art.  It will be followed by the sequel My Fellow Devils next June so lots of time to get in on things.  If you haven't yet discovered this author's wonderful writing then may I suggest The Hireling, which I enjoyed just a teensy bit more than The Go-Between, but both were fantastic. 

So there you have it, I haven't been hiding under a rock but simply preoccupied and goodness knows my pea brain can only handle so many things at once.  So England...plug in the kettle because I am on my way!