The Fighting Temeraire, J M W Turner
The next morning we went down to breakfast soon after it opened at 6 am, and paid for a Full English Breakfast. JD had an omelette made; I had a fried egg with bacon and tomato. For the toast they had containers of butter and margarine, but not of jam! They had two waffle makers where you could make your own waffles with some pre-made mixture. You could have “proper” coffee there too.
After breakfast we went back to our room and re-packed and rested until Charlie was due to come and pick us up.
Charlie took us back to his house in Windmill Road, next to the park, as when we’d visited 8 years earlier. He introduced us to his mother in law. After having a cup of coffee, we walked to the local pub, the Plough, where we were to have lunch with Charlie’s two daughters and his mother Liz who lives in a nearby rest home. The pub was in a centre of small shops and was quite “rustic”. There was a Kiwi serving there – no surprise, really.
I drank sparkling water. The menu was quite comprehensive, but I just had a starter of smoked mackerel pate and toast. I was surprised to find some fish bones in the pậté! JD and Liz had fish (haddock) and chips, and the servings were huge. I was glad not to have eaten too much, because eventually we had pudding – a sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream for me. It was delicious.
Afterwards we went back to Charlie’s house where we had tea or coffee and scones with jam and cream made by Ella.
Eventually Charlie summoned an Uber to take us to our next hotel near Kings Cross station. He said the journey would take 1 1/4 hours, but there were road closures and the traffic was gridlocked for much of the time. It took closer to 2 1/2 hours, and I did not feel very well. I had remained animated and talkative but was now fading fast.
Our Travelodge Hotel did not have a luggage trolley, but we had the fastest and easiest check-in – no passports or signatures required. Three-star hotels I have known! I think that this hotel serves a different demographic.
It really is a very basic hotel, despite having “Royal Scot” (with one “t”) in its title. There is no housekeeping (clean towels and tea bags delivered daily on request, however), a bath, and breakfast is included. There is no fridge, and hopefully no bedbugs! It did seem very noisy, until JD closed the window. At least there is a window!
There is only free wi-fi for 10 minutes each day!
We went downstairs to the bar/restaurant where JD had a whisky and I more sparkling water to take back to our room.
Breakfast starts at 7 am on weekdays but not until 8 am on weekends, so we had a long night ahead.
There is an Italian restaurant nearby and a coffee bar with good reviews, although I think that doesn’t open until Monday morning. I have not been sleeping at all well. On the Friday night I got very little sleep.
But Saturday was a new day. I ran a bath, but had to ask JD to cool it down after I let it become far too hot. But actually it’s a very good bath, nice and long and I could get out of it by myself. I also made a cup of tea.
We went down to our already paid for breakfast soon after 8 , and it was already very busy, so perhaps it had started at 7 am.
There was a bar of cooked food, including scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, tomato halves, mushrooms and hash browns. JD got me some cut fruit – melon, apple and grapes, but it had not been carefully prepared the way I’d do it. JD made toast and brought containers of jam and some kind of margarine, but everything had a strange aftertaste – perhaps it came from the margarine? The orange juice was strong and unpleasant, and the coffee not much better, although it was “proper” coffee.
Afterwards we went off to make our way to Kings Cross Station, a few minutes’ walk away. It’s next to the lovely brick St Pancras station where the Eurostar trains go from.
It’s all a huge and busy complex. We went into Kings Cross Railway station to try and figure out how things worked, and saw the huge overhead showing different national trains and their destinations and stopping points.
Then we went to the Underground, which is another huge complex. We worked out that we should catch the Piccadilly line train to Piccadilly circus to get to the National Gallery.
JD bought 2 return day trip tickets for us, and we headed off for the Piccadilly Line – dark blue, in between the light blue of the Victoria Line and the really dark blue of the by Northern Line. Everything was well sign posted, with some stairs but mainly escalators. I remember all this now.
The platforms are quite narrow, without the barriers to avoid someone being pushed or falling onto the tracks like they have in Taipei. The trains are very fast. It was very busy getting on the train; you have to push your way on, avoiding people getting off with the pushchairs or luggage. There seems to be no keeping to either right or left here, and precious few good manners. In NZ we wait until the bus or train has stopped before getting up to leave. And there was no central pole to hang onto while getting on and off!
We went several stops and eventually I was able to sit down. The train was very noisy, reminding me of Glasgow when we were there 8 years ago. There was no voiceover or signage to say which station was next, although later on, our return train had both of these.
We got off some distance from the National Gallery, but I thought we were in the right area. I saw a statue which I thought was Nelson’s Column, but it was not. Eventually I persuaded JD to use Google Maps with directions for walking, partly to show him how it was not that straightforward to use it, although he often asks me to do so!
Eventually we got near the National Gallery. Of course there was a queue to get in, but having got this close I wasn’t going to miss out. We could see part of Trafalgar Square, but it was blocked by several erections and did not look like the photographs.
Finally we got into the National Gallery where I had to open my handbag and my tote bag for examination – they had had trouble with Just Stop Oil protesters defacing the paintings. But that was all. You’d have far greater security at most American museums.
The paintings, of course, are just wonderful. And entry is free. We wanted to buy tickets for the van Gogh exhibition they’re holding, but they were already sold out, alas. There was an exhibition of works by Constable, including his famous Hay Wain, but to my astonishment there was no protection or barrier to stop you getting too close.
One thing I found incredibly frustrating was the notices beside each painting saying who was the artist, when it was painted, and a brief note on the subject matter, were incredibly hard to read. I had to get really close although you can’t really look at the paintings right up close to them. There were lots of people there, including children, and it was hard to photograph the pictures. One rarely heard English spoken!
When we got to the Turner paintings, one of my main objectives, there were lots of people including a group of children copying the paintings! I felt rude for stepping around them, but I’d come from NZ and one of my specific objectives was to see these paintings in particular.
The paintings of course are extraordinary. There was a lovely one of a train. They’re very impressionistic.
London seemed shabby and down at heel, and reminded us of when we first visited in the early 1970’s – the time of the first oil crisis, the three-day week, the IRA threats in England, and dreadful terrorism in Europe. It was doing better when we visited in 2010 and 2016, before the implications of Brexit were felt. It strikes me that if it weren’t for the immigrants, the Brits rather like it this way. “Mustn’t grumble!”
There are pictures of Madonna and child, and in one of them Mary looked very realistic, as did her son. But mostly the little boys had really chubby legs and tiny penises. One got the feeling the painters enjoyed painting them this way.
There’s a Caravaggio paying of the Supper at Emmaus, with a strangely young, innocent feminine Jesus; it also had what seemed to be a roast duckling, and a bowl of not great fruit that he would later use to great effect in a still life of a bowl of fruit with a worm having eaten through the apple. Australian writer Peter Robb used this to great effect on the cover of his Midnight in Sicily book, which centres around the trial of Andreotti, a former prime minister, on trial for his links to the Mafia. I have seen that painting.
The Supper at Emmaus painting was said to be a representation of The Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples, but this looked like a regular meal with the bread and wine not prominent. There was another Caravaggio painting of a child sting by a wasp, the child looking very like his famous painting of the Medusa. Shades of El Greco here.
This reminds me that there were paintings by Titian Veronese, Delacroix, Michelangelo and even one by Leonardo da Vinci.
We saw The Ambassadors, and of course I had to see the Arnolfini portrait again.
I was very tired, and we stopped to have lunch in one of the cafes. It was really busy. JD chose two cakes (not what I would have chosen!) and then I chose Quiche Lorraine with salad. This hot food was served by a woman attendant, who also piled salad on our plates and asked which of two dressings we would like. I went to get another tray, leaving JD to pay and order oat milk lattes if possible. The trays were clean but unpleasantly sticky! There were no tables free, but we sat at a longer table with stools which was really quite comfortable. The stools had backing, so it was like sitting on a chair. The coffees were simply delicious! The quiche was good, too, although made with a very sharp cheese.
We then tried to buy tickets for the Van Gogh exhibition the next day. They were releasing some at 4 pm, but we were very tired and could not wait around until then.
When we decided to go, I queued up to use the bathroom, realizing it might be a while before the opportunity arose again.
I almost gave up, but thankfully did not, since the queue was far longer when I came out! The toilets were new and quite clean, but pretty whiffy. There didn’t seem to be any deodorant. In Taiwan, both of our visits, I never used a smelly toilet.
When we came out, there were barricades up so we couldn’t see Trafalgar Square at all, but we could hear plenty of sirens and there was a helicopter overhead. Evidently there’d been a protest occasioned by Tommy Robinson (currently in prison) and for Palestine. I think it was Robinson’s supporters who were protesting. There were apparently several arrests.
We walked to the Leicester Square underground station, and caught a tube train back to Kings Cross. This time there was a voiceover and an electronic notice for each station, but again I found it hard to get on and off the train with no central pole to hold on to.
We made our way back to our hotel, where I had a sleep! Very rewarding, I felt much better after that. Then we went and had dinner at a local Italian restaurant – Mediterraneo. There were good reviews about this, except for one woman who complained that the Tesco’s tomato sauce that she cooked with was superior!
We ate very well there: JD had some kind of baked penne, and I had spaghetti con polpette. It was cooked “al dente”, as it should be, and was delicious. Thankfully the helpings were not too large. JD wanted to have dessert but I’d had an aperol spritz, and didn’t want to have any more to eat.
So we returned to our hotel. We went to bed, and again I went to sleep, not waking up till about 3 am.
I was convinced I was on a plane, flying to Rome, in business class. I figured, after a while, that I was not, I was in my hotel in London, after wondering just where I was to stay in Rome.
On Sunday morning I ran another bath. When I got in, I realized how the taps work: the left one gives you water; the one on the right hand side regulates the temperature. It’s easy when you know (or remember!) how it works!
The UK changed from Daylight savings time overnight, so my watch was wrong again and I had to put it back an hour.
Breakfast was better this morning, although extremely busy. We had the same table for two that we had yesterday. The fruit was much nicer, and I had apple juice to drink rather than orange juice. I used butter on my toast and it was much nicer than the weird margarine. This morning I stuck to fruit and toast rather than hot food.
Today is a beautiful fine day! The sun is shining, it’s not raining, and it’s quite warm and beautiful outside.
After breakfast we walked to the Old Church at St Pancras. This was about a 30 minute walk, behind St Pancras station in a park. It is Anglo-Catholic, and they were having a short mass this morning because there was to be a celebratory mass in the afternoon to welcome a new parish priest.
The church is a beautiful old stone building, which has somehow survived Oliver Cromwell and other strifes. The service was more catholic than other Roman Catholic services I’ve been to, with “smells and bells” and a great deal of ceremony. Because the service was shortened, we did not have the organ or any hymns, and only a short homily (but lovely though). There was an especially beautiful golden triptych altarpiece, which may have been buried at one time to protect it. The priest prayed for Pope Francis and the Royal Family. There were about 20 people there, including a couple with a very young baby. The space inside had a nice feeling of intimacy. I was so pleased that we went there.
Afterwards we walked back to Kings Cross station, to catch the Tube to the Victoria and Albert museum. It was hard to find a schematic of the Underground again, but we worked out that the best place to get off was the South Kensington station.
From there we found an underground tunnel that took us directly to the V& A Museum.
This was well worth a visit, although we avoided the Buddhist section. The first one we saw revolved around French and English design at the times of the French revolution and Napoleon’s rise to power – very intricate and beautiful, if slightly impractical!
This museum was busy but thankfully not nearly as busy as the National Gallery had been yesterday.
We decided to have some lunch, but that was quite a performance. There were queues at 3 counters: cooked food and salads, sandwiches and cakes, and drinks, with a separate counter for payment, where you collected cutlery and paper napkins. Once again JD was magnificent. We got a tray with fish pie (prawns, haddock and smoked sea trout, which looked like salmon), and a beetroot salad and “leaves” – it looked like lettuce to me! You added your own olive oil and vinegar rather than a prepared dressing.
So I took the fish pie and salads while JD went to get cake and drinks. The fish pie was delicious, and there were no fish bones. Having found a table, I ate half of it, while fighting off the midge-like creatures who would share. Eventually JD returned with a beautiful blueberry cake, an oat-milk latte for me in a cardboard container, and a glass of white wine for him. Perfect! What a good idea to share the fish pie and the cake.
Then we went in search of more treasures, including and especially some more paintings by JMW Turner, including one of Venice. There were more Constables too.
We made our way out, after an obligatory restroom stop (you need to queue here for anything worthwhile!), and back to South Kensington subway stop. It was incredibly busy – we had to push our way on to an already crowded train. When we were almost back we were both able to sit down, thankfully. In all the crush I did not see one person wearing a mask. It was very hot on the train. We were glad to get back. We dined at Mediterraneo again, and afterwards they gave us wee glasses of chilled limoncello.
Classic Barbarian 