London Today, Yesterday, and Tomorrow

 

London has a sameness, an old grandmother of a city, but at the same time, you might easily be surprised by changes.  

 

Where I stayed in Kensington, there were five coffee shops on the street facing the hotel. Four of them no longer accept cash.  Gotta use a card.  One waitress offered to take cash, but added, “I have no way to give you change.”  It was £5 for coffee and toast.  I had a £20 note.  No choice but to use my card.  Nothing appeared on the menu and no warning on the front door that said cash was not used.

 

London (don’t know about the rest of Britain) is not the only place on earth getting rid of cash. Sweden is almost cashless and furthermore your card better be a “tap” card, although some places may still accept the old fashioned cards.

 

In London pubs, at least ones I went to, do accept cash, but I wonder for how long.

 

Not everything is changing. Pubs are still open at eleven o’clock or noon. I don’t know why; some are 11 and some are 12.

London has a vast array of museums of every sort, 192 museums in fact, placing them #5 in the list of cities with the most museums.  You can look up the rankings, but you probably want to know who is #1. Paris with 297.

 

My favorite London museums are, in no special order:

 

The British Museum with everything imaginable, including miles of architectural exhibits from all over the world, as well as the famous this and that, of which my favorite is the Rosetta Stone, from which linguists learned the secrets of many ancient languages.

 

The National Gallery, housing art of every sort, including a masterful collection of Impressionist paintings.

 

And very close to the National Gallery is The National Portrait Museum where I recently viewed a collection of David Hockney’s work. 

 

The V & A Museum (Victoria and Albert), which houses so very many cultural items.  I had a wonderful guided tour, with a guide who knew everything about clothes worn through the ages.

 

There are many war museums, including Churchill’s War Rooms and The Imperial War Museum, plus many others.

 

Special exhibits change, so look before you go.

 

How about evening activities?  My favorite, bar none, are the theatres. I buy my tickets at the discount kiosk in Leicester Square. Leicester is pronounced Lester.

 

Very easy to get around in London.  The Tubes (Underground rail) connect every part of the city. With a new twist, you no longer have to use an Oyster Card as a ticket, which is a card that you refill with £ on machines (that are in every station). These days you can use your credit or debit “tap” card to ride.

 

How about getting from the States to London? There are Atlantic crossings if you prefer to go by ship.  Or, if you want to dash over and back, air travel is in great supply.  My two favorite airlines to London are Virgin Atlantic and British Air.  Not fond of the U.S. airlines. 

 

Heathrow and Gatwick are the two major airports that service London.  Very similar in distance, but my favorite is Heathrow with an easy tube ride to the Kensington area where I usually stay. Lots of nice hotels, pubs, restaurants, and transportation to every part of the city.

 

I’ve been to London off and on for over five decades and written of my adventures.  Below is a list of those on my blog.

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/11/theres-something-about-london.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2016/01/posh-london-tour-of-st-james-street.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2015/04/london-various-pubs-various-pleasures.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2015/02/going-down-tubes-part-tube.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2014/12/finding-london-bookstores-adventure.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2013/11/the-national-portrait-gallery-london.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2012/06/down-tha-local-tasty-british.html

 

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2021/11/theatres-fun-in-london.html  Especially for plays, it’s best to check online.  Theatre productions come and go.

 

When to go?  I like early fall, or early spring.  Not so crowed and I’ve had great luck with the weather.  BUT, whenever you go, London is going to be a wonderful treat!

Report From London

Hyde Park

Report From London

I’m about to finish up a week in London…well, not London as I knew it or you knew it.  This London has empty streets and no queues for anything, including a pint at the pub.

Time of day when the lobby is usually crowded.  Breakfast room was nearly the same.

This morning, at 0900, I went downstairs to breakfast.  The expansive breakfast room is about the size of a large restaurant, with a décor that rivals any elegant dining room.  Deep carpets. Large paintings adoring the walls. Carefully prepared place settings on fifty tables all featuring designs of inlaid wood.  Dozens of staff in black and white livery.   It was that way on the first morning I was here, with lines in front of the two coffee machines and kitchen staff dodging through oblivious patrons to restock the rapidly depleted buffet.  Fresh fruits attractively arrayed and cold cuts and cheeses, and abundant hot dishes to please every ethnicity.

This morning, there were five of us, plus me.  Soon two of them left.  Only saw two staff and one of them just came in as I sat down with a plate of fried eggs, English back bacon, sausages, and baked beans, plus a full cup of rich Americano coffee.  Also this morning’s newspaper, from the entryway for the taking. The food was all there, the people not.

On the walk back to the elevators, beautifully tiled floors, and elevator doors of heavy brass, all nicely polished….I passed not a single hotel guest. A glance at the elegant front desk showed no one, except three staff dressed in black suits, white shirts and black ties, apparently sharing a chuckle or two.

The past few days have seen the city shut down.  Theater performances cancelled,  Prime Minister Boris Johnson calling for avoidance of large gatherings, including those in pubs.  Those I stopped in were nearly empty….yes, you see there are some things even the stoic English are not inclined to give up without being threatened by bayonets.  So the pubs are still open and I’m still able to get my pint of London Pride, or London Glory, or Dooms Bar, three of my tasty favorites.

Most stores are still open, even the flock of block after block of what Americans would call Mom and Pop operations.  But, there are few to no customers.  Shopkeepers lean languidly in the doorways, hoping for the best and curiously enjoying the occasional pigeon. 

Pub near Harrods

Another shot near Harrods.  Usually the crowds are thick here.

Still, walking the streets is enjoyable.  Yesterday I walked some seven miles through and around Hyde Park…no, there is no Jekyll Park…through Trafalgar Square and Leicester Square and Covent Garden.  Went into The National Portrait Gallery, between Trafalgar and Leicester and viewed a few canvases in what these days is a cavernous hugeness devoid of patrons.  The good news was, I could stand and stare for as long as I wanted without being considered rude.

Trafalgar Square

Well-dressed attendants, attired in the popular English uniform colors, black and white, sat lazily in chairs, carefully guarding the paintings and waiting for me to leave and stop interrupting their naps.

Leicester Square, as the hub of the theater district, is normally the busiest spot in London. Leicester is also at the confluence of Piccadilly, Covent Garden, and Trafalgar.  One of my favorite ‘after theater’ restaurants is on a corner, near the tube stop.  It’s sizeable, probably thirty tables, serving Italian and Turkish specialties.  Five or six gorgeous Eastern European ladies normally scurry around, efficiently delivering trays piled high with plates of pizza, spaghetti, and Doner Kababs.

Yesterday, the place was totally empty.  One waitress stood, leaning against a wall, showing extreme interest in her fingernails.

Tube stations at Leicester and Covent Garden, and Piccadilly are normally the scenes of bustling hordes.  Yesterday, they were nearly empty.  And, I’d been trying to do what the Prime Minister asked and avoid crowds.  Turned out, avoiding crowds meant taking the tubes.  Five people were on my car on the Piccadilly Line.

And was the famous Hyde Park empty as well?  I’m sure your rapidly boiling curiosity is uncontainable.  The answer is a polite yes and no.

In the vastness of the green, heavily treed open space, there were a few mothers pushing trams, and some people walking dogs and others like me, asking themselves, “What the hell am I doing here?”

Kids and their mom feed the swans at Round Pond in Hyde Park

In truth, it was a part of my get-the-hell-out-of-my-hotel-room regimen, including walking and thinking and deciding whether to do some idle shopping, or go back to the room and read a book.

Still, London is London, one of the most fabulous cities in the world, with cross cultures and cultural possibilities unimaginable in most other cities.  I found a French grocery store and purchased some French sea salt, but being a bit perplexed by the varieties available and desperate to put my French lessons on naked display, I held up two boxes of salt and asked the clerk, “Voulez-vous me dire, les deux sont la même chose?”

“Yes,” he replied in English, “They’re both salt.”

I bought both. My French suffers from severe restrictions, a prominent one being able to find out what I want to know. Anyway, we both had a good laugh….well, one of us did, the native French speaker.

And so I walked on.  Had a pint of London Pride near Trafalgar Square, gandered at the Lamborghini and Ferrari showrooms, and avoided the crowds, only because there weren’t any.

Museum of Natural Science, normally packed!

A heavy traffic area, Trafalgar Square

Four Great English Pubs

Blackfriars Pub

Four Great English Pubs

I’ve often written about one of the great English institutions, the pub.  Few towns don’t have one and the cities are clustered with them.

Those unacquainted with the institution will immediately comment:  a pub is just another name for a bar.  Oh, how wrong you are!   Something you must do immediately is buy a plane ticket to London.  But, first read a few of my scribblings and acquaint yourself with what you’ve been missing.  After that, the necessity for a London trip will flash in bold print at the top of your mental list of things to do before you’re too old to drink.

London Pubs:

 https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2015/04/london-various-pubs-various-pleasures.html

Oxford Pubs:

 https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2018/12/two-famous-oxford-pubs.html

Another London Pub: https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/01/the-prospect-of-whitby-odd-name-great.html

That’s enough to give you a glimpse of what’s to come.  Now for a couple of misconceptions I need to clear up. FIRSTLY, a pub is not a bar, it’s a place of comfort for social gatherings and a social leveler.  Men in suits and men in scruff of paint splattered pullovers and scuffed boots sit side by side to calmly sip a pint. Ladies of a certain age, dressed to the nines, may be at one table, while young things with tattoos and piercings may be at the table beside them. In a society known for levels of social order, the pub offers freedom in its clearest form.

As I saw on a sign in one pub:  Beer isn’t a matter of life and death.  It’s far more important than that!

A pub has a certain homey feeling, as though you’re sharing drinks and telling lies in a private club that anyone can join.

Now, about the beer:  I prefer the hand pulled variety, straight from the cask.  For my taste buds, it’s smoother and more flavorful.  British beers are neither flat, nor warm.  Casks are stored in the cellar, where it is always between 50 and 60 degree Fahrenheit, and when the beer is brewed, a natural fermentation and carbonation occurs, giving the beer a very light head when served.  Not the very fizzy carbonation of most German and American beers.  Brit beers go down smoothly, with an abundance of flavor.  Alcohol content is roughly 3.5 to 5.5%.

Now that we’ve gotten the preliminaries squared away, allow me to introduce you to four wonderful pubs: In London, Blackfriars, The George, and The Footman.  In St. Alban’s,Ye Olde Fighting Cocks.

Blackfriars: One of London’s oldest pubs and certainly its interior is the most striking, with a profusion of marble, tiles, and large bronze bas-reliefs of monks doing their chores.  In short, from history and interior, it’s unique.

By the way, another misconception, this one in the English language, is that unique can be modified, as in very unique, or most unique.  Au contraire, mon ami, unique cannot be modified for the simple reason that it means one of a kind.  If something is one of a kind, it cannot be the most one of a kind.  There are other words like this, but let’s get back to Blackfriars.

Although it dates only from 1875, it was built on the grounds of a former Dominican friary (Dominican monks wear black cloaks).  Above the bar,  the monks are fishing and the accompanying saying is: Tomorrow will be Friday. At the entrance to the grotto, there’s another relief titled:  Saturday afternoon, with a portrayal of monks gardening. Dominicans are also called The Order of Preachers and the order dates to 1213.

Some other pithy saying accompanying other monks on other walls:  Don’t advertise, tell a gossip, with monks doing wash.   A good thing is soon snatched up, depicting monks carrying a trussed pig.  Another pithy saying is:  Haste is slow.

Now you know more than most of the patrons, so settle in, let the atmosphere penetrate and enjoy a pint….make that two.

The George: Be careful, there’s more than one The George, but the one you seek is London’s last surviving galleried coaching inn, in Southwark, near Boroughs Market. First mentioned in 1543 and rebuilt after the fire of 1677, it was also known as an inn-yard theatre, where Elizabethan theatrical productions were performed.  Not known if Shakespeare performed here, but we do know Charles Dickens stopped in for a coffee on several occasions, and included it in one of his novels, Little Dorrit.

Do grab a copy of a Charles Dickens novel and settle in for an afternoon of soaking in the atmosphere….or getting soaked in this atmosphere.  See, that’s another thing about an English pub.  You can grab yourself a pint and fritter away the time in dreams of greatness, for as long as you want.  Read.  Write. Draw. Let your imagination rip!

The ground floor is divided into three parts. The Parliament Bar was a waiting room for coach passengers, and the Middle Bar was a coffee room.  Upstairs is a restaurant.  Only half the Inn remains.  The gallery that faced the remaining part of the building was torn down to make room for a railroad warehouse. 

We went to Boroughs Market right before we ambled to The George.  We may have even stopped at another pub. Could have happened. 

You dare not miss the Boroughs Market.  It’s a stroll and eat affair.  Fresh oysters, salted beef sandwiches, best salted caramel ice cream I’ve ever lapped from a cone, and a huge variety of ethic food stands.  But, at the end of it, a man must have his pint! 

The Footman: Located in the Mayfair, in one of the most upscale areas in London, The Footman has a long history, dating to 1749 and has thrived under a long list of names to include The Running Horse, The Running Footman, and I Am the Last Running Footman, by which it was known when I first visited in the 1980s. So, what is or was a running footman? Those of the English wealthy class had any number of servants and lived in fine mansions and were driven places in luxurious carriages.  A running footman’s job was to run ahead of the coach, to pay tolls, and clear the way, which in old London was essential.  To tell the truth, new London is worse.  Traffic has only increased, now that even the drinking class has a horseless carriage.  Come to think of it, there are probably as many chauffeurs now as there were running footmen back then.

It was quiet when we visited; in fact, we got our pints, chatted with the friendly barkeeper, and pretty much had time to sit at the window facing the street and slosh beer as we watched a parade of Rolls Royces and Bentleys and a few Ferraris arrogantly drive by. Porches didn’t merit a second glance.  They really didn’t belong here.

Which brings us to Ye Olde Fighting Cocks, in St Albans, about 20 minutes by train from Paddington Station.  Why go there?  First off, Ye Olde Fighting Cocks is reputed to be the oldest pub in England.  I say ‘reputed’ because several pubs make that claim.

Reputed is a strange word. Does it come in a singular form. If the pub was reputed to be the oldest, did someone repute it? Anyway, this one’s only solid date is 1756.  But oldest or not, it’s well worth a visit. And, if you’re tall, prepare to duck and weave.  The old blackened beams overhead are a threat to anyone over six feet.  Also, it’s a country pub, which is a wonderful difference from spending the day dashing through the streets of London, dodging cars and cabs as you try to remember whether to look left or right when crossing.  If it had been a sunny day and a mite warmer, we would have parked ourselves outside.

We also made the pub a lunch stop and the food was excellent.  Not quite totally English, but my taste buds came from a family of serfs, and they begged for a burger and fries.  I tried to resist, but now that the taste buds were free, they did what they wanted.

St Albans

Much more to see in St Albans.  I found an antique shop and bought a lovely 19^thCentury, cut glass pitcher for $20.  Try and do that in London.  On Wednesdays and Saturdays, St Alban’s has an open market.  And near Ye Olde Fighting Cocks is a huge park, which was once the site of the third largest Roman city in Britain.  Many of the old walls remain.  As you tour Europe, you quickly see why the history books refer to The Roman Empire and damn well mean it!

The park and site of the Roman city

Are you getting an inkling of why I like pubs so much?  Fabulous beer, yes, but also history and literature and markets and adventure. Pubs bring life to life!

London Conversations

London Conversations

You want to be a traveler instead of a tourist?  Simple.  Stop reading the signs, snapping the photos, then climbing back on the bus.  Talk to people.  Ok whiners, I know what you’re thinking.  I don’t speak the language.  I might make a mistake and say something awful.  What the hay!  You may already say awful things in English.  But, wait a sec, they speak English in London and it’s definitely more gooder English than most Mericans speak.

So, cheer up and speak up!  I’ll give you some examples:  

David (barber at Trufitt & Hill, the world’s oldest barber shop)

As everybody knows, having your hair cut draws out conversation with every snip of the scissors.

“You’ve got a job ahead of you, David.  This is my unfashionable shaggy look.”

“I’ll soon have you looking like a gentleman.”

“My wife will be surprised, but I like an ambitious man. By the way, I’ve found a way to regrow hair.”

“Really?”

“So far it only works on ears and eyebrows.”  David chuckles.

I’m attracted to people who laugh at my jokes.

There follows a short exchange of how I want my hair cut. “Like yours, David.”

Michael had cut my hair on previous occasions and turns out that’s who cuts David’s hair.  Small barbershop ain’t it.

“How long are you in London? Where are you from in the States?”

Which swings the conversation doors wide open.

“Taking in three musicals,” I say.  Which leads to finding out David’s not just excellent with the scissors, but is also a singer and has his own cabaret troupe.  Which led to dancers and singers as athletes. 

“Matter of fact, we singers refer to ourselves as vocal athletes.  Takes hours of daily practice to get your voice to do what you want it to do.”

Don't doubt it.  I often have trouble getting my lips move in the right order.

David is also a philosopher:  “Our lives are formed by our mistakes.” Fortunately, he wasn’t talking about my haircut.

Then he talked about his hometown, Bristol.  “It’s a great city and so much to see and do.  Been there?”

“No, haven’t had the pleasure, but one of my favorite authors, Derek Robinson is from there.”

Haircut over and perfectly done, I struck up a conversation with Poppy, a bright young woman who offers the potions and lotions at the front of the shop.  She’s also a singer in David’s troupe.

My purchases complete it’s time for some light shopping and some thirst quenching refreshment.

(More links to my blogs on Truefitt & Hill at the bottom of the page.)

Veronica (barkeep at 45 Jermyn Street) pronounced German Street

As with all the other barkeepers at 45 Jermyn Street, Veronica knows her stuff.  We ordered coffee and when we also requested an Armagnac, she smiled and quickly produced a bottle of exquisite, ten year old Baron de Sigognac.  That it was before noon raised not one eyebrow, but which began our conversation.  She’s Italian and Italians never blink twice at the chance for alcohol.  We moved on to travels and why she came to England.  “I like to travel.  I’ve also lived in Brazil and Columbia, plus I’m half Korean.”

Italian-Korean?  She laughed.  “Crazy! You know how Italians are so emotional, with hugs and kisses?  When I go to visit my grandfather in Korea, he has no idea what to do when I rush up and hug him and kiss him on the cheek!”  She laughs again.

Veronica has lived so many places! So does she speak a bunch of languages?  Yes. In addition to her native Italian:  Portuguese, Spanish, and English.  How about Korean?  “No.”

Now I’m fascinated with a young adventurous woman and fearless traveler.  “Lived anywhere else?”

“Germany, but I don’t speak German. It’s too hard!”

By this time, she was making other drinks and I watched her concoct a Bloody Mary.

“First you need some really good tomato juice.”

Made with fresh tomatoes?

“We tried it with fresh tomatoes, but the flavor wasn’t intense; we use a quality juice and add a blend of spices and cream of horseradish.”

I’ve had one of their Bloody Marys. It’s well balanced, intense and sensational. You remember the spice, but it doesn’t deaden your tongue.

Then the 45 Jermyn Street’s general manager (another David) arrived with a complimentary plate of melt-in-your-mouth chocolates, both dark and white, filled with raspberry cream, hazelnut caramel, and dark mousse.  He saw us drinking coffee and Armagnac and wanted to help us ease into the rest of the day.  “Enjoy,” he said, and we followed his instructions to the letter.  By the way, David is also Italian!  Then the maître d’ floated over to congratulate us on our libation choices.  Yes, we will come back here, every chance we get.

(More links to my blogs about 45 Jermyn Street at the bottom of the page)

Jane (clerk at Jo Malone, Covent Garden)

Being a man, I don’t expect anything more than a perfunctory ‘Hello’ at a perfume emporium.  But, Jane is the kind of woman that wants to chat and you immediately want to chat with.  She’s smiling, cheerful, and brimming with information, both product and background. 

“So, is there a real Jo Malone, or is that just a brand name?”

She explains, ”She’s real!  Jo Malone began making lotions in her kitchen and giving them to friends as presents.  Then friends told friends and the business grew.  Now, as you may know, the brand is owned by Estée Lauder.  Jo Malone had breast cancer and needed to slow down, so she sold it in 1999.  Now she’s started another company, Jo Loves.”

“Are there fragrances for me?”

“Originally, Jo Malone’s idea was to create unisex fragrances and that’s still mostly true, but now some of the fragrances have a more masculine scent.”

The things you learn when your wife wants/needs some more Jo Malone Red Roses lotion.

Alina (at the Caffé Concerto on Piccadilly)

Alina is from Romania (Romanian is another romance language).  By the way, she speaks perfect English.

“So, was English difficult to learn?”

“It took me a long time.”  Can’t tell if that’s a groan or a wince, but whatever, it looks fetching on her.

“So now you don’t care if someone speaks Romanian or English to you?”

She smiles (and it’s a gorgeous smile!). “No, makes no difference to me.”

Lanja (a waitress at Strada, a restaurant at the Heathrow Airport)

Lanja is from Iraq and her English is also perfect, as is her cheery disposition.  “So how long have you been here?”

Another wonderful smile. “I’ve been here twenty-two years.”  Either she’s discovered the secret of eternal youth, or she got here when she was still an egg.

 She seems disappointed that neither of us finished the delicious linguine Bolognese.  “You didn’t like the food?”

“We did, but it was too much. Our stomachs are too small.”

Lanja waves a dismissive hand and smiles again. “Your stomach isn’t as small as mine.” 

Show me yours first.

She’s right.  I’d be surprised if she weighs a hundred pounds (about 45 kilos or 7 stone). The Brits lead the world in obtuse ways of measuring weights and distances.  “I carried ten stone for a hundred furlongs.  Took me a fortnight.”   Could you give that to me in rods?

For your edification:

1 stone = 14 pounds. 

1 kilo = 2.2 pounds.

1 furlong = 1/8 Mile, 660 feet, 40 rods, or 10 chains.

1 fortnight = 2 weeks

1 rod = 5.5 yards

Ok, with the kilos you caught me. A kilo is really 2.20462 pounds, so go ahead and work that out in your head.

But, let’s pick up our instruments and get back to the music.  When it comes to travel, it’s the people you meet that leave the most lasting impressions.  Sure you can remember what la Tour Eifel looks like, but what does it mean to a Frenchman?   What does he think about Americans? What are people like in Germany or Belgium or Japan?

Everybody has a story and if you ask and listen, you’ll find out more about a country than ever gets in a travel book.

So, here’s a thumbnail guide on how to travel:  First you get a haircut, then find a nice spot for coffee and Armagnac.  After that you’re on your own.

Links to other times I've written about Truefitt & Hill, and 45 Jermyn Street.

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/12/haircut-at-londons-truefitt-hill.html

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/01/truefitt-hill-shave-thats-pure-silk.html

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2016/01/posh-london-tour-of-st-james-street.html

https://stroudallover.blogspot.com/2017/12/people-of-london-part-ii_2.html