THE LONDON CHRONICLES
These
are the first of 41 chapters written when Eileen lived in London for four
years. More are available for the asking.
Chapter
I
February
2000: Getting Settled
Chapter
2
March
2000: Merchant Taylor Hall, Brighton, Cambridge, Guildhall, Brussels
Chapter
3
April 2000
Chapter
4
May/June
2000
Chapter
I
February 2000: Getting Settled
Our new
millennium begins in London at 5 Hyde Park Gardens Mews. We
have traveled widely, but never lived abroad. Our furniture
is partly in Texas storage and partly here. Our family is
scattered. We have a new iMac computer, so here I go with
our unfolding story.
We've
traded our big house for a small flat, a white brick mews
house near the juncture of Bayswater, Marleybone, and Mayfair.
Arf arf arf! Arfarfarfarfarf! We've been working like dogs!
We are nearly moved in now, after two arduous physical days,
and now we're about to better organize the clothes, books,
and art supplies we pulled out of boxes and unwrapped inside
miles of paper packing wraps. The movers didn't want to come
back (it costs extra and isn't covered) and when they unpack,
everything is strewn all over. We have beds made and a few
pictures on the wall, but how any non-electrical engineer
without a Ph.D. figures all this out is beyond me! Mike has
been cutting off ends of our American 110 volt lamp cords
and converting them to British 220 current with new plugs,
or inserting plugs into big heavy metal boxes, transformers
bought and borrowed, to make our lamps work. We need all new
bulbs, and prices are high: $15 for one of our reading lamp
bulbs! There are an enormous number of bulb styles and types
here; many are bayonet style instead of screw in. Figuring
out how to work the kitchen appliances is another mystery,
since the buttons are all icons, and reading the instructions
on using them, according to Mike (I haven't even tried yet!)
requires starting with the History of Electricity. Somewhere
we have manuals hidden with a tangled box of keys and tags
from the letting agency-that's the rental agency.
Cool gray
rain greeted us, but left by the time we prepared to unload
the truck (lorry) and then returned briefly. Our first night
we walked to our closest pub, the Duke of Kendal, too exhausted
to cook, and learned that for 50 pence, we can join in on
the quiz next Tuesday. It's about 25 questions, read over
the mike by Rose, the proprietor's wife, and people play in
teams. One question was about the only heavyweight champ never
k.o.'d; other questions dealt with politicians, movie stars,
and plants. The décor is in dark reds and greens for
walls, carpets, and low tin repoussé ceilings, with
a fireplace that, before central heating, must have appealed
as much as the ales on tap. Mike asked about the food, and
our proprietress assured him it was "lovely." Soon
we learned that about 90% of British responses are "lovely,"
"brilliant," or "well done!" Fish and
chips, shepherd's pie, half a chicken-all are £4.95,
about $8, and the cigarette smoke isn't too dense until late
in the evening. Although it seems everybody smokes here, the
percentages are not much different from those in America.
It's just that there aren't many non-smoking areas, although
most civic buildings are smoke free.
Throughout
the day, we hear horses' hooves on our red brick lane, passing
en route from nearby Hyde Park, which is gorgeous; I can't
wait to learn it better. We crossed it Sunday to the Victoria
and Albert Museum on the other side, passing a series of rectangular
fountains, playgrounds, and playing fields before crossing
over a low arched brick and stone bridge. Below were a heron,
swans, geese, and ducks. The Serpentine Art Gallery is nearby,
and I saw bike paths, so will try them soon. The horses use
Rotten Row, a path around the park perimeter covered with
deep coarse sand. The Serpentine's boat hire area was closed,
but a few remotely operated sailboats were raced from ashore.
Out of the park, we walked past elegant apartments and passed
St. Philip Neri, the vast Brompton Oratory church decorated
in swirling baroque architecture. A battery of putti punctuate
the décor.
Cheery
green garden spots determinedly persist amid this dense urban
place, with colorful pansies, cyclamen, green vines, and trees
everywhere, even though the deciduous trees aren't yet wearing
spring leaves. Prince Albert's statue in the park, surrounded
by women and animals on four corners representing the continents,
is newly regilded at a cost of millions of pounds, but looks
splendid, gleaming high on its perch. Albert was only 43 when
he died; Victoria continued to have his nightclothes laid
out nonetheless.
Another
notable park item is the new gate, commissioned by public
offerings, in honor of Queen Mum's ninetieth birthday. It's
cheery and festive, very light and swirly, with silvery scrolls
and flowers. It's quite a change from the heavy black iron
gates so ubiquitous here. The birthday gate's cutout red lion
and unicorn are childlike in their simplicity and bright color.
The lion symbolizes England. Scotland is the unicorn, the
dragon Wales, and the harp, Ireland. The Tudor red rose, thistle,
leek, and shamrock also symbolize those countries, respectively.
I'll iron
bedskirts with the donated iron from Mary Jo, my sister who
just left London after five years living near fashionable
Sloane Square. The linens are a wrinkled mess. I'll arrange
to get an online connection, a newspaper, cable TV, and greet
the glazier who lacked the proper tape to finish repairing
our front window. It was cracked, and is double glazed, which
can be really important in British weather. The kitchen window
isn't, and the draft - draught -- is very evident. The kitchen
window is required to have a circular hole to vent gasses,
lest we asphyxiate ourselves.
We've
had wonderful phone calls from our kids. Pat is off to Seattle
this weekend with his band and we look forward to his new
CD. Ellen related the latest granddaughter tale: Katie woke
up to a wet bed, but absolutely didn't have an accident. After
questions from Mom she revealed that a bat flew in and wet
her bed, pj's, and mattress! Ellen's baby boy in utero is
doing well. We commiserated about high prices, and lack of
a Home Depot! Ted chatted about CDC. We hope Mike calls too.
We entertained
our first guests! Our American next-door neighbors Bob and
Beth Connorly came over for a drink with their smiling baby,
Sam-still unable to crawl and get into trouble. Beth had brought
flowers when we moved in. She came here from Sweden. We did
our first laundry, after reading ponderous directions on correct
operation. Then we walked to Edgware Road and Argos, a sort
of catalogue store with good prices, to buy a wheeled chair
for the computer desk. Mike tried carrying the big box, but
we ended up hailing a "black cab"-which was red,
but they're all called black anyway. Many are multicolored,
with ads painted on the sides.
We went
to a patisserie to sample croissants-to test the three shops
available in our Connought area-and stopped at the Duke of
Kendal. Over wine, we learned where the closest post box was,
from the bartender. Mail can only be dropped off at the red
Royal Mail boxes or the Post Office, but never left at the
door. There are two morning deliveries daily, six days a week,
and about 5 pickups daily from each post box. Mail dropped
in the box today is usually at its local destination in a
day. We hung more pictures, worked on the upstairs study/computer
room/studio, and the house is looking good.
There
is a cherry tree outside our kitchen window with large buds
ready to burst, and underneath it, rhododendrons, daffodils
and forsythia. I think they will be beautiful soon: we spied
a few early cherry blossoms on a nearby tree. Tonight the
half moon shines high overhead, clearly viewed from our breezy
rooftop garden.
On the
US holiday President's Day, Mike has off, but went for an
appointment at noon. We set up our security system, which
is complex and expensive! The engineer, Kevin, said we needed
special lines. (Everybody who fixes things is either "the
engin-EE-ah" or "the BUILD-ah.") Police can
be notified, but neighbors must be available within 20 minutes
after any alarm, because the police won't enter private homes.
Monthly fees and startup fees are awful, and a police investigation
costs a great deal extra, so we will do without that service.
We couldn't
merely call to order a newspaper: first, one pays for 26 weeks
with a credit card in advance, then the paper sends a packet
of perforated vouchers. When those arrive in a week, they're
taken to a local newsagent, who tears off one a day and delivers
daily-and not all do. We asked at several. Delivery is not
included with vouchers, and adds about £2 weekly-about
$3. You may stop the paper for up to 2 weeks within that period,
if you're away. Otherwise, you could walk to the newsagent
each day for a paper. We opted for the London Times, delivered
by a teenager on his bike.
As for
TV, don't watch until visiting the Post Office to pay about
$165 for a license, good for a year. The money goes to help
the BBC write and produce all those specials we saw in the
US on PBS. The appliances continue their challenge: the washer/drier
combo under the kitchen counter is different from our machines,
with various letters to start and stop each cycle. Do you
fancy 60 or 90 degree water or presoak? Compute the differences
between Farenheit and Celsius. A, B, up to K are available;
the drier works by convection, which gathers water. The machine
needs regular emptying or it automatically shuts off. How
many kilograms does your clothing weigh? (I recalled Woody
Allen's comment that he and his appliances were "as two.")
One improvement
we made immediately was replacing the marble-sized ice cube
trays with some more commodious Woolworth's specials. Nobody
except Americans use much ice. I'm annoyed that I had to change
my US AOL name: it's been a hassle. I lost all the old e-mail
addresses in the changeover. The support staff is in Dublin,
but it was a long distance call to the US to close the other
system. Now for email I hear, "You've got post!"
The support system for the British Telephone is in Scotland,
and I haven't decided which accents are more confusing.
We walked
across Hyde Park in cool sunshine, past animated children
shrieking on the playgrounds ("nurseries"), riders
cantering on horseback, rollerbladers and bikers sharing separately
lined lanes from our paved walking lane, pram pushers, romping
dogs and their owners. Past some kite fliers, a film crew
forced us to halt near a riding ring as they snapped two very
smartly dressed young riders-tweed jackets, brown boots and
high hats on a large and small pony, respectively.
We stopped
at the Serpentine Gallery to view sculptures and installations
by an interesting Japanese woman, Yayoi Kusama, who lived
in New York in the 60's and had relationships with Joseph
Cornell and Donald Judd. She is interested in food, sex, and
polka dots, and her work often is filled with a quiet nebula
of small marks. A kitchen installation scene had lace glued
onto white furniture and a grouping of dotted nude female
mannequins arranged on a macaroni floor. Fun! We continued
to Knightsbridge and Burberry and Harvey Nichols, since Harrod's
is closed Sundays. We saw awesome $200 pashmina scarves and
various stylish plaids at the former, and upscale clothing,
cosmetics and foods at the latter. How about a leather-bound
trip log for one's yacht, a log of one's wine cellar input
and consumption, or a dinner log including "jewels worn"
with your guest and wine lists? Bring money! I stayed up 'til
3AM sorting papers and mail that have been gathering since
before we left Austin. Mail comes to Mike's office and because
he's with the Navy, we use US regular stamps, thereby saving
very expensive international postage.
One Saturday
we took our red Central Line tube from Lancaster Gate to West
Ruislip, the last stop, and visited the small Navy base there.
We could save money if we shopped at the commissary and exchange,
but the fare out and back adds so much that it isn't always
practical. We live in zone 1, the inner city, and went west
to zone 6, although you can buy a weekend pass good for 2
days anywhere on the tube for not much more than the price
of a single. We stuffed our pull cart (a departure gift) and
2 canvas bags from Austin's Central Market to carry things
home, and since the tube stop had no escalator or lift, carried
the pull cart for 2 flights of stairs. However, the Chanel
eau de toilette that I bought at the base for $35 cost £39
at Harvey Nichols! (A pound sterling is about $1.60.) I also
got a personal Nokia phone, with BT (British Telephone) service.
American cell phones don't work here and are called "MOE-biles."
One great
shopping area is Oxford Street, a continuation of Bayswater
Road. We walk just past Marble Arch, where the name changes.
I bought some half-price hiking boots at the Bally store on
my first rainy day in town. The food courts of nearby Selfridge's
and Marks and Spencer offer any combination of wines and readymade
delectables possible, and have been a joy at our table. Our
pedestrian local Safeway is boring and crowded, but offers
a large choice of foods "from A to Zed" including
fajitas! It also sells liquor. Now, if we just figure out
which way to look when crossing the streets! Coming home,
I heard strange noises and looked out to see about 50 matched
brown horses in rows, ridden by red-coated soldiers, with
2 buglers and several cannon on caissons. They were returning
from a salute in Hyde Park to mark the Queen's accession.
That's the day Elizabeth learned that her father, George V,
had died. She went to Africa with Phillip as a princess and
returned a queen.
I visited
a wonderful plant nursery on Clifton Street, tucked in behind
a row of white 4-story homes. There was every kind of indoor
and outdoor plant, and I wanted 2 bay trees to put on either
side of our front door. Since a mews has no real yards, (they
were once stables for London's quarter million horses), plants
in front of the homes green up the long rows of cobblestone
and brick. However, the bay trees were £85 each, plus
pots, so I bought a castor bean plant and a couple of brilliant
pink and yellow periwinkles for one side of our entry. The
next day, our delivery man grunted below plants and six 40
pound bags of compost as he climbed up to the roof, and I
realized how important home delivery is to Londoners. Our
roof view is hundreds of chimneys and a couple of steeples,
in an ever-changing backdrop of clouds and sky above gray
slate roofs punctuated by stark antennas. In the roof pots,
I planted herbs in two pots already up there, which I hope
hold something that's still alive.
Anyone
delivering or visiting during the day must be careful of the
mysterious parking police, on foot: a young black officer
in glasses and a blue uniform appears bearing his little pad,
writes £60 tickets ($96), and poof!--vanishes. They
all seem to be African or West Indian. There is no daytime
parking in the mews, but pay-and-display meters are nearby,
if you can find a place. We could probably rent out garage
in a minute--when we finally clear out the wall-to-wall boxes.
It's wonderful for storage. Trash is twice weekly, Tuesday
and Friday, and recycling is Wednesday. Much of the trash
is circulars that are inserted all day long into our mail
slot, mostly on restaurants with delivery or airport cab companies.
Letting companies also leave countless booklets advertising
available flats, with photos of each. The city of Westminster
raked under our kitchen window's cherry tree (3 men noisily
jabbering, with very little raking) and the daffodils are
ready to bloom. I nabbed some ivy and geranium cuttings on
a walk home, to add to our roof pots.
I'm reading
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, a novel about
Congo, later Zaire, as written by a Georgia missionary family
of 4 daughters in the '50's. Adah, one of the twins, seems
to have a streak of evil, which I look forward to exploring.
My sister
came to visit. With Mary Jo's help we won 3rd place at the
pub contest, mostly because she recognized the politicians,
movie stars, and Pamela Anderson's and Boy George's photo
in the visual section, xeroxed. Her Shar-pei Sissy was delivered
in from the country dogsitter, and behaved nicely, as behooves
an old girl. (Dogs will no longer have to be quarantined soon,
but will wear a microchip and have certain shots. Sissy and
her mom endured 6 months of quarantine, with near daily visits
from MJ.) Dog and mistress visited prior to settling in their
new Houston digs,
We also
entertained a group of scientists from the UK, Belgium, Italy
and the US for drinks before going to Safa, on Edgware Road,
for Turkish and Iranian food. I love their homemade bread,
rolled out into a big flat circle and flung onto the sides
of a big metal stove in the doorway. Edgware Road must be
as close to home as any middle easterner could hope for: many
chadors and veils wander beneath Arabic signs, and hookahs
are grouped in the corner of restaurants for an after dinner
smoke. The streets are full at night, just as in the middle
east after sunset. We walked past Saudi Arabian Airlines and
the banks of Bahrain and Dubai. The area is also messier,
with papers and bottles littering the street.
The Seymour
Leisure (rhymes with pleasure) Center will be my new gym here,
and I need to get a "res card" stating that I'm
a Westminster resident to get reduced rates, but so far I'm
paying as I go. Yesterday the desk girl was one of a quartet
from Connecticut, recent graduates from the University of
New Hampshire, working for 6 months before graduate school.
I suggested they look at Texas, then inserted a 20p coin into
my locker to change for swimming.
The ladies'
locker room is bare, cavernous, and light-green tiled, with
a worn wooden coat rack and bench in the middle, open warm
showers at one end, quite public, and a shelf with hair dryers
on the side wall opposite the lockers. School children often
troop though in noisy groups, discarding myriad boots, scarves,
hats and 'brollies as they chatter before swim class. The
pool is large and deep, and there are 3 wide roped lanes:
slow, medium and fast, which includes both Olympians and snails.
I'd feared it would be freezing, but the temperature is pleasant.
Swimming on lunch hour is like Grand Central with lemmings,
and users provide their own towel, soap, and shampoo. It's
a lot to carry around.
For yoga
class, there is a long narrow room with perhaps 20 smelly
light blue mats on a side, a foot or two apart. Our hands
and legs touch if we don't "mind the gap" between
ourselves. The leader has no mike and speaks very softly,
but it's a good basic class. The building probably dates from
the 30's or 40's and looks weary. It's about a fifteen minute
walk from the house and seems very busy.
I've been
waiting for a sunny day to photograph our street. And waiting.
I know there'll be sun one of these days! Tonight my 38 yr.
old neighbor Beth and I will go out for supper with Sam, age
6 months. She's at no. 4 and at no. 3 is a newly widowed British
lady who seems nice, but usually lives in the country. On
the other side of us are Kathy and Paul, who live in the country
during the week, and next to them a Shakespeare theater director,
Michael, who travels extensively. Across the way is an American
young woman married to a Brit; also an Italian married to
a Brit. Next to her is a tall white-haired lively widow, Inge
Mitchell, a Danish knight who was the second wife of a broadcaster,
the Walter Cronkite of his day. Also across is a one-time
runner from the Moscow Olympics, I'm told, who's divorced.
Everybody seems nice and I'm still waiting for the blooms
of flowers and trees in front of everybody's doors, except
Beth's. Hers were stolen, along with their two huge pots.
People chain pots to the house, hoping to keep them awhile.
We took
a taxi to the British Museum and had a big English breakfast
before exploring the treasure-packed halls for the day. There
is still lots of construction going on there. I bought books
on Crete, and Mike on radiocarbon dating. We entertained the
neighbors for drinks, and learned that our roof garden is
really unique, since the local Council often refuses permission
for them. Inge dominated a conversation. She lectures on shipping
and had just been involved with the Danish queen's visit here.
After they left, since Kathy and Paul had a movie to make
in Mayfair, Mike and I walked to Zorba's, near Queensway,
for Greek food and retsina, a great way to end a great day.
Sunday
morning, after Mike trudged off to Paddington Station to get
the airport train for Japan, I strolled to the nearby Anglican
church for high mass with a fabulous hired choir, and coffee
afterwards in the narthex. I don't know if it's good not having
a congregational choir, but they sang as well as any a cappella
choir I've heard, and I learned many were music students.
Communion is distributed in a big circle gathered around the
altar. The congregation is sparse and older, but I did get
a hook 'em from Robert, a UT Chem.E. who is retiring here
and does printmaking. I returned for beautiful evensong with
about 25 in attendance, again mostly older folks. Who keeps
these churches going? The British clergy is having the same
problem with high HIV rates that American priests are suffering,
according to the latest statistics. I keep saying that some
married clergy or a lady pope would change all that!
The end
of my first month in London brought an ode, best read aloud,
incorporating many new ways of saying things-Two nations separated
by a common language makes more sense now.
Ode of
the British Newcomer
One enquires
about cricket and toasts to the queen,
And asks as a greeting, "Old chap, how've you been?"
Straightaway it's 10:30, or half ten, you see.
Wait a bit for elevenses: biscuits and tea!
One buys by the kilo for pounds and for pence.
"Perhaps aubergines or courgettes today, gents?"
Buy the nappies at chemists, ride up on a lift,
Face queues in the tube, which is old, but it's swift.
Marks
& Spencer sells bits and bobs, undies galore,
But their ready-made dinners are what cooks adore!
They buy joints, gammon, gateau, en route from their job:
A full trolley means fewer hours at the hob.
Buy a torch at the ironmonger's, just write a checque.
And don't tip at pubs - well, a bit, what the hecque!
And if today's Times is found wanting or thin,
Just chuck it out in the skip or the bin.
One chunnels
to France wearing trousers, not pants,
Your ticket's "return," which is bought in advance.
You visit for leisure which here rhymes with pleasure.
On the road, fill your boot, not your bonnet, with treasure.
One's bath is en suite when the boudoir's connected;
You'll be "in hospital" should you get infectecd.
A playground's a nursery, a nursery's a crèche
And the pram-pushing nanny's straight from Bangladesh.
C of E
are debating what constitutes sin.
On BBC Sport, Twickenham have a win.
Stately black bowlers are missing, I fear,
But the brollies and tallies and wellies are here.
Shall I ring or send post? Book for one or for two?
And say, do you fancy a trip to the loo?
If you think we share English far over the sea
Mind the gap! There is definite discrepancy!
Chapter
2
March 2000:
Merchant Taylor Hall, Brighton, Cambridge, Guildhall, Brussels
Chapter
3
April 2000
Chapter
4
May/June
2000
BACK
TO TOP
|
