The next morning, we hopped aboard one of the double-decker buses—always painted with an iconic red. You enter through the front doors via Tap-and-go, and you exit via the middle and rear doors.
The family-owned Northern Irish firm, Wrightbus, built these New Routemaster models in 2010. Londoners praise them as the best buses they ever rode on. Pleasantly, they still have aesthetics of the 1930s versions.
London has a fleet of 480 fully-electric buses; others are hybrid. They all exceed the Euro 6 Emissions Standards. The mayor wants zero emissions by 2037.
Lewis preferred to sit upstairs. Those buses have beautiful streamlined steps!
Luckily, seats were vacant in the front of the bus, which gave us a nice view of the scenery.
Turning off Sloane Street, the bus trundled down Knightsbridge (the road), which morphed into Kensington Road. We passed the former home of an English baron who founded the Boy Scouts: Robert Baden-Powell. His Lordship lived on a street named Hyde Park Gate, 50-feet from the park.
*To read about my experiences as a scout, please click this link...
https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2015/04/boy-scouting.html
Incidentally, when reciting their Scout Promise, Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts in England affirm their allegiance to their monarch: “to do my duty to God and to the Queen, to help other people, and to keep the Scout Law”.
On our right, Hyde Park transitioned into an adjoining royal park: Kensington Gardens. It is named for the royal residence that we intended to visit: Kensington Palace. *In Brooklyn, NY, there is an area named Kensington, which was settled by English colonists in 1737 and named for London's.
Pressing a button, Lewis "rang the bell" at our destination, and there was plenty of time to descend the stairs to exit the bus.
(Have you ever seen such stylish stairs? Their retro design blends nicely with the cityscape.)
We walked up Church Street and breakfasted at a cozy teahouse called Candella Tea Room. Their frescoed ceiling and cushy chairs were enticing, but we opted to eat outside. Many sidewalk cafes are dotted along the street, due to the scenic coziness.
The creation of teatime is attributed to the 7th Duchess of Bedford, who was a Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Victoria. In the 1840s, she craved a snack between luncheon and dinnertime. Her influential friends enjoyed the notion, and fashionable Londoners copied. As the British Empire expanded globally, the custom spread. (The current Duke of Bedford's land portfolio in London includes a few streets and squares: e.g. Bedford Square by the British Museum). Despite popular belief, British society does not pause at 4 o'clock to sip tea. The British drink tea and coffee whenever they want.
A French waiter showed us a circular table, where we could smell all of the loose teas that were available. Lewis selected a Ceylon black tea from the island-nation of Sri Lanka, which is part of the Commonwealth.
The loose-leaf tea was flavored with pieces of caramel, butterscotch, and a dash of vanilla.
The countertop was loaded with freshly-baked scones (the English pronounce them as "scons").
If you have tea with scones topped with clotted cream and jam, that is called a Cream Tea. The oldest record of that meal is from the 990s, after Tavistock Abbey was destroyed by Danish Vikings and the Earl of Devon fed his craftsmen with Cream Tea while they rebuilt it. The current Earl of Devon (age 47) still admires how Devon cream is used to make clotted cream (a scalded unpasteurized cream).
The waiter prepared our table outside, and we savored our picturesque surroundings.
We witnessed an admirable scene—a testament to an upstanding culture. A young man walked along the street. Suddenly, he paused, bent down, and picked up something. It was a wallet! He glanced around and approached a man at a cafe table. They spoke and he handed it to him. The recipient was an American who offered a reward, but the young man politely declined. He was merely being a decent human. So wonderful to see!
Cutely, the mismatched crockery had a quaint effect, and the English waitress warmed our cups and saucers before serving us. In a world of disposable cups, it was nice to enjoy the tactile warmth of reusable porcelain with each sip. Brewing loose tea necessitates using tea strainers (which straddle the cup) so the leaves don't go into your drink.
It was peaceful. Despite their size, the electric buses are so quiet that we barely heard them pass us. Play this short video to hear the loud rattling engines of NYC's inferior buses that are blights of noise pollution.
Lewis ate scrambled free-range eggs with chives, toasted sourdough, and a salad. I had Eggs Benedict—topped with honey-roasted ham and Hollandaise sauce—on toasted crumpets, alongside "wilted greens". We also ordered a slice of carrot cake. Our English Tea experience was perfect. (You don't need the tiered tray of finger-sandwiches/pastries to have perfect tea). Ergo, our £27.83 meal was serene and lovely.
*If you want to see the "ceremonial" teatime that we enjoyed at the Lord Mayor's Lounge in Dublin, please click on this link:
While having our tea, we reviewed the chronology of London's palaces. Since 1049, the Palace of Westminster was the monarch's medieval residence in London, until a fire gutted it in 1512. During that time, the Catholic Cardinal, Thomas Wolsey, enlarged a nearby house until it rivaled the palace. In 1530, King Henry VIII took it from Wolsey (just as he took Wolsey's gigantic Hampton Court Palace, which is still a royal property). Henry let Westminster be used for Parliament, and he expanded Wolsey's house further, until it became the Palace of Whitehall. (His funding came from his dissolution of the Catholic monasteries, where he blamed the monks' shameful profiteering. Needing excuses to close others, he reclassified the monks' mutual masturbation as illegal sodomy). Larger than Versailles, it was the largest palace in Europe, until it burned down in 1691 and 1698. That's when Kensington Palace was purchased from the Earl of Nottingham as a royal residence. In 1776, King George III decided to live at Windsor Castle (and let Kensington contain his relatives), yet he also bought Buckingham House in London. As king, his son renovated Buckingham extravagantly. The next king refused to live there, but Queen Victoria made Buckingham Palace into the main royal residence. In the 1950s, the newly-crowned Queen Elizabeth II was hesitant to reside there. Royal correspondents and "royal watchers" speculate that when her son (who was born in the palace) ascends the throne, he will prefer to reside elsewhere, too.
It was a short walk via a pedestrian path named York House Place (past the Romanian, Norwegian, and Israeli embassies) to Kensington Palace. It was built in 1605 (during the Gunpowder Plot assassination attempt against the gay King James VI at Parliament), and it was expanded for its first Royal Couple in 1689. We crossed Palace Avenue, and admired the stylized lawns and the gorgeous wrought-iron gates. The 17th-century gilding and metalwork is impressive.
The first royal inhabitant was Dutch-born William III. His statue has a debonair stance.
Respectably, we queued with other visitors in the forecourt. As seen below, we had a nice view of the Round Pond. The Universe was favorable to us, because our line was suddenly halved into two lines, and we found ourselves as the next ones at the Ticket Counter. We had not pre-booked tickets online. The Admissions Clerk informed us that without reservations, we might have to wait 45 minutes. Seeing our sad faces, she said, "I'm terribly sorry". (The English use "terribly" to mean "extremely"). Just then, she noticed something on her computer screen; someone suddenly cancelled their reservation! We got the time-slot! All three of us were excited. Joyous, we purchased our tickets (£23 each) and scampered into the palace.
The large complex houses four generations of royalty. In 1930, Prince Philip arrived from the continent to stay with his grandmother, the dowager marchioness Victoria Mountbatten. (In addition to Philip's mother, the dowager's children were the Queen of Sweden, the next marquess, and the famous Lord Louis Mountbatten—cousin of Queen Elizabeth and mentor to her son, Prince Charles). Later, the palace was the renowned home of the Queen's rambunctious sister, Princess Margaret Rose (and her bisexual husband), who were both vividly depicted in a popular series, The Crown, which we enjoy. Previously, it was home to Charles and Diana, as the Prince and Princess of Wales. Charles' son, William, and his family reside there. (My grandfathers were named Charles and William!) Harry and Meghan recently vacated. Other princely and ducal couples dwell in various wings. Their famous relative, the Queen, makes all of the arrangements.
As part of our research before our visit, we watched a BBC series by Lucy Worsley. She is a Chief Curator at Historic Royal Palaces. We highly recommend her shows!
Tours avoid the palace's residential areas and occur in the historic State Rooms and Orangery, which are both managed by a charity called Historic Royal Palaces, on behalf of the Crown. Neither the Crown nor Her Majesty's Government provide funding.
Some of the Royal Jewels are on display. Seen below, a set of emerald/diamond jewelry was commissioned by Prince Albert: the royal consort to Queen Victoria. The tiara, earrings, necklace and brooch are a testament to 19th-century goldsmith and jeweler craftsmanship. The filigree is as stunning as the gems.
According to a caption, Victoria chose to wear her husband's designs, instead of a crown, to emulate matrimonial devotion and not be superior to him (they were born three months apart).
Another piece is the Fife Tiara, which was a wedding gift to Victoria's granddaughter: Princess Louise. It was gifted by the groom, who was the Duke of Fife. Alas, the dukedom suffered financially, and it was given to Her Majesty's Government as a tax payment. Circuitously, the government positioned it back in the palace "on display" for the public.
It reminded us of when we viewed the Crown Jewels of the Principality of Monaco in 2016. Alas, the Kokoshnik Tiara—styled on the Romanov royal court in Russia—was missing. No, thieves did not burglarize the room. It was "on loan". Like many brides during the pandemic, the Queen's cousin, Flora Ogilvy, entered matrimony in 2020 without many attendees (but in the Royal Chapel of St James's Palace). Now, they hosted a classic wedding at St James's, and Her Majesty conferred use of the tiara for the blessed event.
Originally, the home was Nottingham House. In 1688, the new royal pair, William and Mary, left the Netherlands (where he was its stadholder and reigning Prince of Orange), and they ascended the thrones of Britain on January 2, 1689. Unusual for Britain, they ruled as equals, instead of the queen as a consort.
That year, Their Majesties purchased this property for £20,000 and hired Sir Christopher Wren (architect of St. Paul's Cathedral) to transform it into Kensington Palace. Below is a depiction of the result of Sir Christopher's greatness.
Lewis and I ascended the (lantern-lit) grand staircase, which hugged the edges of the foyer. Its paintings and frescoes are stunningly lifelike—with some characters seemingly coming out of the artwork!
Seen above and below, people are painted on the ceiling who peer down at visitors with jovial expressions.
A docent informed us that the lad who is clad in green (seen below) was Peter the Wild Boy. In 1725, he was discovered in the wilderness of Hanover, Germany. (George I was born there and ruled it as its duke while being King of Great Britain). Peter was brought to the palace, where courtiers made an experiment of tutoring him (and being amused by him)... similar to the plot of My Fair Lady. However, their plan failed. Freed from King George's minions, he lived amiably in England until his 70s... which was a remarkable age in that era.
A caption indicated that the foyer was refurbished for the arrival of King George II (born in Germany)...
... who died in the palace whilst using the toilet in 1760. "Mad" King George III replaced him. Before his illness overtook him, George III hosted Mozart in 1764. That is cool!
Peter the Wild Boy wasn't the only captive here. In 1819, Princess Victoria was born at Kensington. Her unhappy and stifled childhood was due to her domineering mother, the Duchess of Kent. (Interestingly, the current Duke and Duchess of Kent still reside at Kensington. *Established in the 500s, Kent was originally a pagan kingdom that was absorbed by the Kingdom of Wessex in the 800s). We entered her former bedroom (bed chamber) and saw her childhood memories: books, toys, furniture, and a puppet theatre.
Inveigled by John Conroy (her rumored paramour), the duchess intended to rule the United Kingdom as Regent while Victoria was underage. Seen below, King William IV discovered that and abhorred her, and he vowed to stay alive until Victoria was 18-years-old and could reign without a Regent. That is what happened. (He died at Windsor Castle in 1837 as the last monarch to jointly reign over the UK and Hanover in Germany).
The year before she ascended the Throne, Victoria hosted a ball at Kensington.
The goal was to find a suitable suitor to be her betrothed. On May 30, 1836, she met the Prince of Cumberland, the Prince of Cambridge, and Their Royal Highnesses, the Hereditary Prince William of Orange (heir to the Dutch throne) and Prince Alexander of Orange. The British king had a partiality for the Dutchmen. However, Victoria favored her distant-cousin from Saxe-Coburg, Germany: Prince Albert.
As Lewis and I traipsed through the ballroom, the old floorboards creaked underfoot, and we envisioned their flirtations and dalliances.
The angelic tushy (seen above), and the statue viewed from the window (below) were eye-catching.
After her coronation, Victoria banished her mother from her Royal Court.
Lewis and I are familiar with many of these facts, as a result of watching the popular series, Victoria.
After two years as queen, young Victoria was pressured to choose a husband. Out of all of the contenders, the finalists were Prince Albert and the seductive Grand Duke Alexander Nikolaevich, heir to the Russian throne. However, the Czar was the wealthiest man in the world, and he forbade the marriage because England was not as prestigious as it is now. (Nonetheless, within a century, Imperial Russia collapsed and the UK gained prominence). Before returning to Russia, the grand duke was feted by Queen Victoria in St George's Hall at Windsor Castle. (Ever since then, an annual horse-race is held in his honor: the Cesarewitch). Victoria remained smitten with Albert. He was related to her uncle, Prince Leopold—who became King of the Belgians—and his godfather was the Emperor of Austria. After they got married, she completed her dynastic duty by having a large family, and she paired her children with royalty and nobility throughout Europe.
In an adjoining room, we marveled at the painted ceiling and glamorous chandeliers. The docent who was stationed in the room informed us that the chandeliers are made of wood. More impressive, they are modern-day reproductions of the original wooden ones. Indicative of craftsmanship that is still upheld, each chandelier was whittled by hand and carved with historic tools... then gilded to provide a radiance of gold!
Being gay men, our eyes fixated on another muscled tush that was depicted in a painting. Like many classic artists and their patrons, someone in the palace loved male buttocks!
Seen above, the double-height doorway was opened by the docent who was eager to show curious visitors the room where Victoria was notified of life-changing news: that she was suddenly the Queen of the UK. (With 1930s wallpaper, the room is now a conference room for palace staff).
Appreciating Lewis' interest in history, the docent led both of us into the next room to explain its restoration. The painted ceiling was fine, indeed, but the walls were being redone.
Being characteristically Dutch/thrifty, King William III (and Mary), wanted to appease his British kingdom as a contrast to the excesses of his predecessors.
So, he hired a budget-minded interior decorator who used cheaper methods than intended. Nevertheless, they endured for three centuries, but the construction now needs support. The walls and "columns" are actually painted veneers that were attached to the brick walls, but they are falling off.
By being curious and unafraid to ask questions of the docents, Lewis and I certainly got our money's worth of the tour. Dutifully, a docent gave us a value-centric lecture about how William III's interior designer used authentic and inferior paints on the ceiling... hoping that most observers would not notice the cheaper colors. However, courtiers from lavish royal courts in France, Austria, and Russia were aware of the penny-pinching, and they scoffed at it. Yet, this kingdom outlasted theirs. Normally, the regal chamber looks like this...
As you can see from the historic painting below, the chamber is preserved and unaltered.
Further into the palatial residence, we entered William & Mary's sitting room. (Eight years apart, they both died in the palace. After Mary's demise, rumors of William's homoerotic tendencies arose, including his rapid promotions of a page-boy to an earl). Aside from the room's unembellished furniture, we eyed the lavishly-inlaid desk. It is probably the most stunning masterpiece in the room, but overlooked by tourists because it is against a side wall. We loved it.
We felt privileged to witness such splendor. In the next chamber, we saw a portrait made for Czar Peter the Great, when he visited in 1698 (after he lived in Amsterdam in the Netherlands to admire its globally-renown shipbuilding).
Exiting to the palace grounds, we ventured to the Orangery, erected in 1704.
Mary's sister, who became Queen Anne, lived at Kensington and partied in the orangery amongst its prized citrus trees. She died in the palace in 1714.
The baroque space was converted into a gallery of royal dresses for an exhibition titled "Royal Style in the Making".
Foremost was Princess Diana's wedding gown, on loan from Princes William and Harry. Living there, I suppose William can show his friends the exhibition any time he chooses. Ha ha! Its presence garnered global media coverage.
Encased in an illuminated cube, its sequin-encrusted train stretched for 7.6 meters.
As a graduate of NYC's Fashion Institute, Lewis was wowed by the bodice, overlaid with antique lace belonging to Queen Mary, who married King George V in 1893. (She was born at Kensington Palace).
Another rare piece was a dress worn by Queen Elizabeth, later affectionately known as the Queen Mum (when she became the dowager).
The Queen Mother lived for 101 years: 1900 to 2002. As Queen of the United Kingdom and its Dominions, and the Empress of India, she was not the monarch; she was the wife of the monarch. Therefore, she was not styled as Elizabeth II. Her daughter is the monarch and is Elizabeth II. (Queen Elizabeth I reigned from 1558 to 1603). Gallantly remaining with her people during the WWII Nazi firestorm bombings of London, she and her husband won global respect. Exuding valor, Their Majesties performed 300 regional tours by car and royal train, during the war. We overheard many Brits—both young and old—remark fondly about the Queen Mum. She remains beloved by the next generations of her royal subjects.
The cafe that is normally inside the Orangery was temporarily situated by the Gift Shop.
Whereas many places sell souvenirs and trinkets that are made in Asian factories or by underpaid laborers in third-world countries...
...the Royal Collection Gift Shop is full of things made in the United Kingdom. Lewis purchased a boy's outfit—featuring guardsmen—to give his friend's son.
Traipsing down Palace Avenue to Kensington High Street, we joined the queue at a bus stop. Within mere minutes, we boarded a bus to take us back to Knightsbridge.
We sat upstairs, and I photographed the Albert Memorial, erected to honor Queen Victoria's husband.
Appropriately, it is located across the street from the compound of organizations that Prince Albert initiated as "fertile ground" for art, music, history, design, science, and industry... on a pan-national scale. It includes the Victoria & Albert Museum (circa 1852) and the Science Museum (1857). He also envisioned the Central Hall of Arts & Sciences and the circular 5,272-seat concert hall named Royal Albert Hall. The area now hosts the Natural History Museum, Royal College of Art, Royal College of Music, Royal College of Organists, Royal Geographical Society, the Imperial College (with its famous College of Computing and Molecular Biomechanics Lab), and the National Sound Archives.* To see my college memories (at a university named for an English king), please use this link:
Albert became part of the UK's royal family, yet British parliamentarians, courtiers, and palace staff disliked him with ethnic discrimination. It is similar to how Prince Phillip was treated, after he wed the Queen. (Both men were modernizers). Nonetheless, Albert's keen intellect and imagination instituted broad improvements to the UK. He instigated the best sewage, plumbing, railroads, health, and education reforms that the kingdom experienced. He improved the fractured complications and overlapping responsibilities of maintaining the palaces. He advocated to trim the wastefulness found in the military and government. He introduced the notion of Christmas trees, which were unpopular beforehand. He was elected as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, and he modernized its curricula. He campaigned against slavery, liberally induced science breakthroughs, and spurred modern manufacturing. It was his economical idea to construct the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park to host the 1851 Great Exhibition (World's Fair) in London... which was hugely profitable and promoted the UK's industrial wherewithal. Fending off fatigue, he fought against naysayers and skeptics (just like Prince Charles did) to implement each of his clever innovations. He proved that all of his critics were wrong.
Sadly, like too many "good people", he died prematurely in 1861, after only 21 years of marriage. His illness began in 1859, as Britain savagely impaled China with the Second Opium War (where China retaliated against Britain's efforts as drug-dealers to make the Chinese into a population of addicts). He would've abhorred how the British Empire reverted to exploitation of other civilizations. Without him, Victoria became complacent with her growing collection of jewels, while her empire ravaged China, Africa, India, the Middle East, and many tropical countries. She is seen below, with her son and grandson.
As the next king, their wayward son was not better. People don't think of the late-Victorian or Edwardian eras as beacons of liberal mindedness.
Our bus paused for a few minutes at the Household Cavalry barracks because the transit dispatcher wanted buses to be evenly spaced apart for better service to expectant riders. So, we admired the barracks.
With origins in the 1660s, the Household Cavalry consists of British Army regiments from the Life Guards (created in Bruges, Belgium, by the exiled King Charles II), as well as the Blues & Royals. The Blues & Royals were united in 1969. Before then, they were the Oxford Blues and the Royal Dragoons. The Queen's daughter, Anne, is the B&R's Colonel, and the Queen's grandsons, William and Harry, served in the regiment.
(Dragoons used a pistol called a dragon... just as Musketeers used muskets).
You can tell each of the Household Cavalry units apart by the chin straps of their helmets. The Life Guards wear theirs below their lower lips; the Blues & Royals wear their straps under their chins. Each soldier maintains a pristine appearance—from the tips of their boots to their breastplate armor, to the peaks of their helmets. Their horses are treated beautifully, too, and that is appreciated (the British say "ah-pree-cee-ated") by Her Majesty, who is an equestrian, breeder, and animal lover.
Throughout the year—wind, rain, snow, sleet, heat—they do their duty, stand guard, and participate in important ceremonies.
We put our souvenirs in our hotel and changed clothes for a cooler afternoon. I thought it apropos to wear my triple-ply cashmere sweater--made in Scotland (a constituent nation of the UK), where the wool is aerated on huts over streams! As a high-quality garment, it has lasted me for a decade of annual use.
At the Knightsbridge Station, we rode the Underground along the Piccadilly Route to a station named Piccadilly Circus. It is a junction where we transferred onto the Bakerloo Line, which zoomed northbound to Oxford Circus. No, the stations are not named for typical circuses that include a trapeze, dancing bears, or clowns. They are named "circus" via the Latin word "circ" for "circle" because the roads aboveground are circular roundabouts. (We think roundabouts are elegantly efficient to avoid traffic congestion, and we don't understand why the USA—which leads the world in congestion—avoids installing them).
Opened in 1906, the Bakerloo Line is a melding of its original name: Baker Street & Waterloo Railway. Yes, Baker Street is the fictional address of Sherlock Holmes—famed for his deductive reasoning and superb detective work. A statue honors him.
We exited onto Oxford Street and window-shopped along Regent Street, a curvaceous thoroughfare that abounds with retailers. Its classical appearance and urbanity reminded us of Paris.
Much of it is owned by the Crown Estate, on behalf of the Queen.
In the often-affordable COS boutique, I found a perfect jacket in an autumnal hue, which I bought. (I already got compliments on it).
Having recently watched the delightfully-acted film Cruella, Lewis was interested to enter the Liberty London department store. Situated on Great Marlborough Street (laid in 1704 and named for the Duke of Marlborough), the 1924 edifice was created in Tudor Revival style. The wood was reclaimed from two old sailing ships, and the store's weathervane is an homage to seafaring commerce.
Since its inception, it remains a purveyor of emerging brands. Influenced by the 1862 International Exhibition, its founder, Arthur Liberty, sought to sell exotic and unique merchandise that was fashionable. The store is amazing! You get auras of British TV shows like Mr. Selfridge and The Paradise with the grandeur of a historic manor being magically enlarged.
The woodwork is so beautiful!
Lewis was enamored with the antique-paneled elevators. Here is his quick video, as we rode in one.
We departed and went through the walkways behind the store, underneath its grand clock. The main walkway is Kingly Street.
The pavement is purely for pedestrians, who admire the shop windows and public art displays.
In preparation for public enjoyment, uniformed men arrived with portable tables and umbrellas. Within several minutes, they set them up along the walkways.
We noticed many red phone booths, which are culture icons of the UK. In this digital era—when people carry their own phones—many are refurbished for ATMs or other machines.
In truth, those telephone kiosks were invented in Germany in 1881. The booth's design was chosen during a 1924 competition by the Royal Fine Arts Commission, Royal Institute of British Architects, and Royal Academy of Arts. Despite the choice of having larger windows, the British people preferred the charm of smaller ones, separated by red glazing bars. Logos of crowns are emblazoned on each side. Payphone kiosks were operated by the General Post Office via licenses to telephone networks. That explains their red color: the same as British mailboxes. Therefore, the GPO relied less on tax dollars.
Seen above, we observed an Art Deco sign for Kingly Court, and that drew us inside. A courtyard was full of aromatic eateries, but our interest was piqued by the crowd at The Good Egg. Its founders are from Tel Aviv, and it serves vibrant Middle Eastern flavors. We sat indoors and lunched on fluffy Pita dipped in Labneh (with preserved lemon, pumpkin seed, and chills relish), followed by a piquant recipe of Shakshuka (eggs baked with tomatoes, sweet peppers, spices, and yogurt) and Merguez Kofta (cumin-spiced lamb, paprika beef, fresh mint, lemon, and harissa mayonnaise served with cous cous). Freshly-squeezed orange juice for both of us.
Responsibly, the menu consists of ethical and sustainable ingredients. They are partnered with the Sustainable Restaurant Association to use like-minded suppliers.
Our experience was the opposite of New York. Firstly, you will not find a reputable Middle Eastern restaurant near any of Manhattan's prominent department stores. Most ethnic eateries are compelled to exist on the outskirts of the city's borders—usually in rundown surroundings, and the restaurants tend to be dingy and unkept. In addition, you never see an interracial waitstaff that includes white people. Rarely will you find Caucasians eating their food. That is how NY treats most ethnic places.
From there, we went to the Waitrose & Partners on Oxford Street.
From the refrigerator of the wine section, we snagged an affordable £5.99 bottle of French rosé, as a gift for the friend we intended to see within an hour. As a Londoner, Alastair Macaulay was thrilled to see us again. He recently retired after a long career. He was the Chief Dance Critic at The Times as well as the Chief Theatre Critic at the Financial Times. In 2007, he accepted a lucrative job in the USA (therefore with half the vacation time) as Chief Dance Critic of The New York Times. We befriended each other at Lincoln Center. Knowing that we were in his city, he cordially invited us to his home. Few people have that honor.
At Oxford Street, we descended to the Underground. Drastically unlike NYC, we rarely waited more than a few minutes for a subway to arrive at any station. It was also uplifting to know that whenever we asked a transit employee for help, they helped.
NYC's uncaring MTA employees are crude, rude, unhelpful, and they don't rush themselves or inconvenience themselves to pay attention to customers. For an example of what New Yorkers endure, please click this link:
https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2020/01/before-his-resignation.html
*It explains why the Englishman who was hired to fix NYC's corrupt transit system quit from it (within 2 years) and returned to England (where they cherish his talent and abide by it). Click on these snippets to make them bigger/clearer.
In London's civilized society, we always got polite help from every transit employee—regardless of the time or day... even during commuter rush-hours. It was a joy.
Lewis and I were impressed to learn that London's Underground network will soon be fully powered by renewable energy! Already, the city gets a chunk of its power from The London Array: a 175-turbine offshore wind farm built in 2013 that greatly reduces CO2 emissions. The UK is one of the world's best locations for "green power", and it leads Europe in the implementation of wind turbine farms, while it dismantles its coal-burning facilities. While other nations (like the USA) ignore global warming, the UK is helped by the fact that the Crown Estate owns the seabed, up to 200 nautical miles from the UK's shores. The Queen's property is smartly used to generate clean energy. (Centuries ago, people might've laughed at the Crown's useless property portfolio, but not now).
We boarded the Victoria route, which was planned in the 1950s and got its name from Victoria Station: a train hub where it begins. We sped under the capital and were deposited at King's Cross Station. It is famous as the station where Harry Potter fictitiously boards the Hogwarts Express to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.
The station has a landmarked recreation of that scene, which travelers enjoy posing at for pictures.
The 1852 station is a beautifully restored Temple of Travel.
We transferred back onto the northbound Piccadilly Line (the train to Cockfosters—a name from 1524). Our train took us to the North London borough of Islington.
It's liveliness makes it one of the most sought-after areas. We went to a vibrant neighborhood named Highbury, which is full of pretty streets and eye-catching shops.
Despite the distance that we travelled, we were still in Zone 2 of the Underground. We exited at Arsenal Station, which is named for that area's football club. (Only Americans call it soccer). The stadium is near the station.
When a game occurs, the area draws large crowds of enthusiastic spectators. To accommodate locals who take the Underground to go in the opposite direction, the station thoughtfully created a fenced-off walkway. Thus, outgoing passengers can avoid the incoming throngs of sports fans. Surely, NYC needs ideas like that!
That day, there was a big game at the stadium. Across from the station, an assortment of stalls sold "street food" and clothing accessories for any self-respecting Arsenal fan. Whereas American sports fans merely wear caps or T-shirts, Brits include colorful scarves (which the English call "mufflers")!
*Incidentally, football originated from China's Han Dynasty in 2 BCE. It was named cuju and was enhanced by athletes of the Tang Dynasty. To see when Lewis and I visited China, please use this link:
Seen below, certain row-houses erected temporary stalls to sell food.
The neighborhood is filled with 19th-century row-houses; each one is carefully maintained with trimmed gardens. It was a fun experience to see a London suburb, yet it had an aura of an English village. At nearly every intersection, we saw a community bicycle locker, where residents store their bikes.
Something else that we noticed was how few electrical wires are suspended from unsightly poles aboveground in London (and most of Europe). Even Moscow recently ended that type of eyesore. Alas, NYC is full of it, and residents pay much more for that daily experience (as seen below).
As you can see, despite being the costliest city to live in, NYC uncaringly looks like these third-world nations...
We liked England's standards more.
Someone's kitty immediately liked Lewis and scampered to him, laid down, rolled over, and exposed its belly as an invitation for him to pet it. Pets love Lewis, and the feeling is mutual. It's indicative of a place's vibes when animals are trusting and friendly. Maybe the kitty admired his Vincent van Gogh T-shirt!
The area reminded Lewis and I of a cozy neighborhood that we explored in Copenhagen, named Potato Rows. To see it, please use this link:
We unlatched the iron gate, and—since the doorbell was inactive—we thumped the lid of the mail-slot in the front door (as Alastair previously instructed). He opened the door with a flourish of gracious manners and welcomed us ebulliently. His living room resembled this, with a handsome fireplace.
He ushered us through his kitchen and outside to his walled garden. Quaintly, his laundry air-dried on a clothesline. As good guests, we offered to help him take it down... and admired his penchant for colorful socks!
With bubbly gregariousness, he uncorked our wine, handed us wine glasses, and gave us a tour of his backyard. Being a talented gardener, Alastair tended 24 species of flowers, which drew honeybees and songbirds.
We sat and chatted in his authentic English rose garden—with purplish blooms at my elbow and scarlet ones overhead.
We frequently see Alastair's videos and snapshots online, so we were aware of his daily strolls through his local park. His life is vastly less stressful, now that he left NYC and returned to London. Less pressure and no overtime workload allows him to "stop and smell the roses" again, as well as nourish his fondness for Nature. Imaginatively, he named each of the swans, ducks, geese, and deer in the park. Yes, his park is one of the few in London that still contains a herd of deer! (How many capitals have deer? It is amazingly impressive and well-balanced that urban London preserves herds from when the area was rural). Lewis was thrilled to have a chance to see a deer for the first time. (Despite our many attempts in upstate New York, Lewis never saw one). Guzzling our wine, Alastair led us to Clissold Park for an adventure of exploration!
On the street, more football fans headed to the stadium. We asked our friend if their comings-and-goings were ever a nuisance. They were not. Certainly, you could occasionally hear the chanting from the stadium. Otherwise, the men (the British call them "chaps" and "blokes") were mindful of their community. There was no rubbish discarded on the pavement. If a trashcan was full, people carefully stacked their cups and food cartons beside it. Alastair recounted the many times when he was gardening and "those loud heterosexuals" passed him but socially complimented his rosebushes or asked him how he kept them so pristine. They never vandalized the area or caused mischief.
In fact, we saw a crowd of them at the various pubs and the iconic Arsenal Tavern...
.... but their rambunctious pre-game drinking didn't disturb the clientele across the street at a sidewalk cafe.
Nice coexistence.
Clissold Park is technically in the neighborhood (parish) of Stoke Newington. It existed since the reign of King Edward the Confessor, the last Saxon king: 1042 to 1066. He was replaced by William the Conqueror. (His father was Aethelred the Unready, so perhaps their genetics were destined for defeat). This is its coat of arms.
Featuring 55.8 acres of parkland, Clissold includes sports fields, a bowling green, skatepark, playgrounds, tennis courts, bird aviary, and a petting zoo of goats and sheep.
The herd of deer nestled in the grass, napping peacefully. Lewis was thrilled to see them up-close! It's rare that deer allow humans to get close; the fence probably gave them confidence. They looked serene and beautiful. Enjoy Lewis' quick video.
Both ponds were active with waterfowl and songbirds.
Lewis told Alastair how lucky he was to live within walking distance to such a menagerie of wildlife. I was happy to see him so excited. Looking in another direction, we admired the Gothic Revival steeple of St. Mary's Church.
We went for a nosh at Park Life Café inside a manor house built in the 1760s.
Its plank flooring, rounded window alcoves, and lofty ceilings gave charming ambiance. Everything was "spick and span"—showing signs of unremitting care. Built by a Quaker abolitionist named Jonathan Hoare, it ended up in the possession of Augustus Clissold, who died in 1882. Ordering our food at the counter, we were invited to choose a table, so we sat in a sunny alcove, against a tall window. The barista brought our food on a tray: carrot cake for me, vanilla milkshake for Lewis, an a cappuccino for Alastair (who needed to fortify himself against the wine). As a history buff, he loved my tidbit of trivia that cappuccinos were named for the Capuchin friars of the 1500s who lived in the Kingdom of Sicily.
Our jolly trio reminisced of when Alastair visited our NYC neighborhood of Astoria, and I gave him a walking-tour. He still remembered how pretty it was, and how much he learned. As a keepsake, he had this photo in his iPhone from us at the river.
From a man as detailed as Alastair, that was an immense compliment. *To read about one of my local Walking Tours, please click either of these links:
Then, we discussed the 95-year-old queen. During their lifetimes, previous generations of UK citizens saw more than one Sovereign on the throne. However, recent generations only know of Queen Elizabeth, who prophetically gave a speech in 1947 that dedicated her life "whether it be long or short" to her people. Her longevity and clarity demonstrates fortitude and resilience.
Interestingly, Alastair doesn't consider himself a royalist, yet he had data on all the world's longest-reigning monarchs, as compared to the Queen. Lewis complimented how well she handled a role that she neither sought nor anticipated. It is a lifelong role, begun upon the death of her father: the previous king, George VI (nicknamed Bertie by his family and respected in America due to a film titled The King's Speech).
Months ago, her 99-year-old husband died. The son of a prince, Prince Phillip physically battled for the UK's Royal Navy and mentally combatted prejudices due to his foreign-born heritage. He and Elizabeth fell in love when she was a teenager.
He will be missed.
Surely, her stamina is unmatched.
You cannot find another royal or presidential family that is as active as the Windsors. All of the core relatives truly dedicate their lives to public/national service. For comparison, the Dutch monarchy is much smaller, its royal family is half the size, and most of them are not very active. Yet, it costs much more than the British royal family—despite being richer—and it does not pay taxes like the British family does. Annually, the royal family costs £1.60 for every taxpayer in the UK.
Afterwards, Alastair toured us along various park lanes. Hours of commiserating and reconnecting whooshed by! He gentlemanly escorted us to the Underground station. By then, the food stalls were closed. We were impressed that the whole area was tidy. There was no evidence that hordes of footballers were there previously. Such cleanliness doesn't exist in our hometowns. Already, the local constabulary dispatched extra officers to maintain order after the game—whether the team won or lost. There are specific Transportation (Transit) Police, as well as Community Support Officers who augment the police.
Alastair was unruffled and confident that the neighborhood would be fine. He waved to us again, as we went down to board the next train going back to the City Center.
We had tickets for a third musical: Cinderella by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber. It recently opened in July, as a long-awaited production that puts a twist on the classic fairytale.
Despite returning to the hotel to refreshen up, we got to the Gillian Lynne Theatre before "curtain time". It's on the notorious Drury Lane, in existence since medieval times. So, we sat outdoors at a Wine Bar—owned by chirpy gay men—and sipped a Hungarian vintage and snacked on goose pate with warmed baguettes and the creamiest British butter.
We learned that baguettes are essential to France, so their price, size, and weight are mandated by the French government. We wished that situation occurred in America, where baguettes are overpriced by "elite bakers" but are full of air-pockets.
The musical involved two gay princes, townspeople who sought artificial perfection, a slutty queen, a vicious stepmother (played by Victoria Hamilton-Barrett, who imitated the raspy voice of former Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher), comical stepsisters, and Cinderella—a rebellious punk who sought authenticity. She swoons for Prince Charming's brother, which creates a cute interracial relationship.
We had great seats, close enough to the right side of the stage, so when it extended and revolved for the "ballroom scene", we were "front row" for the action!
It was hugely better than the facility and the acting at NYC's Broadway for Sir Andrew's rendition of Phantom of the Opera. Despite being the longest-running show on Broadway, its theatre is decrepit (as if its owner didn't care to reinvest any profits).
As we walked back to the hotel, we reveled in how easy the day had been. Such ease would've been impossible in America's richest city: NYC. Subway delays—and closures on weekends—would've made us late for some of our destinations. Unreliable buses, a lousy theatre district, grimy restaurants in that district, and "overpriced everything" would've impacted our enjoyment. Once again, Lewis praised England's culture because we never worried about stepping in discarded dog poop, throughout the miles that we walked (something you see on nearly every street in NYC and its five boroughs). Truly, such "little things" are as wonderful as big accomplishments.
Join in the last segment for our finale the capital...
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