I love the irony in showing up a day late for The Play that Goes Wrong.

Really like your style. Thanks for a great report.

"I told myself I would make Hannah a pearlie jacket, but I haven't done it yet.".... I've been watching To Tell the Truth reruns and the then Pearly King was on. IIRC, there were 20,000+ buttons on his suit....you better get started!!! lol.

Thank you, Nikki.
I know-- ironic! I suppose it could have gone more wrong, like my having to be annoyed with brothers for looking at the game scores just before the balcony collapsed. They would have loved that play, though, and theatre was on Joe's must-do list. Next time.

​​​​​​I could never compete with a King, though. I'd just be aiming to empty my button jar. First step, buy a black jacket.

Ottolenghi Times Three

Hannah spent a year in Tel Aviv and is mostly vegan, loves Mediterranean food. Her employers had given us a generous gift that she used to buy a £250 gift certificate at Ottolenghi restaurants. The two of us used around a fourth of that amount for each lunch, so we went to three different ones and saved the balance for later.
Each space was stylish and bright, with counters for baked goods and takeaway. I think the Marybone one is only takeaway deli.

Spitalfields first. I had walked there from her south bank apartment several years ago, bought a thing or two but left overwhelmed with indecision. It was fun walking the maze of old streets. The counters looked and smelled so good: bowls piled high with colors. (We sat next to a window that faced a narrow street piled pretty high with trash bags that our server attributed to a garbage strike. Ottolenghi contracts trash privately, I think she said.) Minimalist decor. At all three places you choose between a fish and a vegetarian entree, two sides. So flavorful. My fish was perfect every time. Charred broccoli spears were too large for a mouthful, and no sharp knives available; avoid, unless they promise to bring out bite-sized

Islington next, across from the Almeida and near the Bill Murray comedy club. Another fun and up-and-coming area. Another successful and so good lunch.

On one of our last days, we headed for the Chelsea, Sloane Sq and King's Road area shop. Another lovely day, and here people watching features the beautiful and stylish -- some maybe devoted to Style. There was a wait, so I relaxed outside next to the baked goods window while Hannah popped over to Peter Jones department store. She ended up being invited to watch a fashion show fronted by an influencer she knew of, offered a glass of something sparkling, and I was very happy to stay outside, take in the scene along the shopping lane. If anything, higher class dogs and prams here than Hampstead. I eavesdropped on posh 20-something-ish young parents discussing one of their possible pregnancies, whether the possible dad would think she was trying to get back together, all while keeping toddlers entertained. Modern life.

I can't say which Ottolenghi was my favorite, because the food and atmospheres were excellent, and all those neighborhoods were fun. Mr. O has restaurants all over London, but wisely I think has not over extended, certainly not to my and Hannah's part of the world. Thank you so much, Hannah's bosses! And another meal to look forward to.

We also enjoyed Mediterranean food at King of Falafel, on Judd St near the Generator hostel, with my favorite shawarma, and Beirut Gardens, just north of Seven Dials.

Still following along, and loving your report and photos. What are the Pearly Princesses? What is this festival about?

>>Were any of those Worshipfuls in the grocery or goldsmith line currently? <<

Very much so. On one level, they are a framework for the self-appointed "great and good" of a trade/industry to congratulate themselves, but they also raise charitable funds, often for educational institutions, and in many (most? all?) cases have a powerful say in designing and regulating training and professional standards - certainly the Watermen and Goldsmiths do. If you ever get the chance, the Goldsmiths have exhibitions of the latest cohort of apprentices' "masterpieces":

And they also do an annual fair:
https://www.goldsmithsfair.co.uk/

Thank you, Karen.
They called it a Harvest Festival. I think it was a chance to all get together with fellow Pearlies, and to raise money for their charities. As I understand it, Pearlies started with a produce- selling costermonger, so that could be the harvest connection. Otherwise, it's working class folks originally from all over London.

(Is Harrow considered London ? Their friendly Queen told me they had started out early that morning.)

Also, as I understand it, Pearly royalty stays in a family -- similar to the highly-paid one at Buckingham Palace. A prince or princess couldn't just throw on a pearly jacket and claim an area. I don't know what happens when your bloodline peters out, whether the Fulham line for instance could be passed to someone else.
Like the way they could import a monarch from Germany PRN

Thank you, Patrick, for the information and the links. I always love seeing your name on posts.

I don't buy much gold these days, but the Goldsmiths' would be a fun festival. And it's reassuring to know about the Watermen's rigorous training, clipping at helm of the Thames Clipper. Not like our pontoon boat youths on Lake of the Ozarks.

I had the impression from Dickens that a young man had to buy an apprenticeship; wonder if that is still the case. I'd think Waterman would be a fun career for a young person starting out.

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Nosebleed seats at the ROH. Still a good view.

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This interval at the ROH bar much less crowded than usual. They've made more places to spread out and relax.

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Southampton Row.

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Bill Murray's Comedy club. Young folks, mostly.

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Our Old Vic view.

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Luxury in the Kimpton Fitzroy

Hannah loves tango dancing. Here in St. Louis she's lucky to find milongas (dances) twice a month, so she would go every day in London if she could. A few other times she met friends at the Lamb pub or Hampstead and Regent's Park for walks and dinner. Those times I spent lazing in Russell Square Gardens, or sometimes flipping through the hundreds of bad TV channels. Hilarious shows like Naked Attraction, that I devoted 15 minutes of my life to watching, or the many real estate porn offerings. If I could catch M*A*S*H* or Big Bang Theory reruns, I felt fortunate. Other gems a few times. Reading in the lounge.

Meanwhile, my heart fluttered like a captive bird, no matter how easily I took things. Eventually, I decided I must move to a hotel with a lift. My first floor room, half flight up to loo, is normally just fine, even after miles of walking, but this time I found the climb daunting. I asked the kind and friendly Celtic staff if I could possibly have a ground floor ensuite room, but I think they only had one and it was spoken for. (An older gentleman they referred to as The Doctor, who came to the breakfast room in striped pajamas and who was in residence the whole time I was, seemed to have dibs on it.) The President across the street was full.

I'd had my eye on the 5* Fitzroy Kimpton -- formerly Russell Square Hotel -- over the years as new owners remodeled it, terra cotta facade covered with scaffolding. I had never gone inside before this trip, when I explored a little hoping to take the brothers there for Sunday Roast. Opened 1900, it's beautiful inside, little marbled nooks for reading or conversation, friendly staff. And lifts! Hannah treated me to a single room for our last three nights, and I felt very pampered. If I ever stay there again, I'll do it at the end, so the Celtic won't suffer by comparison.

My husband was not crazy about my being gone an entire month. I didn't tell him about what was going on with me until we'd dropped Hannah off and were headed home from the airport. There was nothing he could have done anyway, besides repeatedly urging me to jump on the next flight home; that was not going to happen. My choices were to head right for the ER straightaway, or more attractively to go home and shower, get some sleep, go to ER in the morning. The next morning, they admitted me and I ended up staying three nights, getting everything back in synch. Happy ending, good local hospital, no harm from having waited.

When I started this report, I doubted I'd go back. Then I got an email from Letters Live offering Royal Albert Hall tickets for 6 March, bought a couple, emailed the Celtic. We'll see. Life only offers so many chances to do what we love.

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London's delayed summer in Russell Square.
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This Sicilian Place corner oddly seems to have trouble keeping businesses. At one time there was a shoe repair shop and a Patisserie Valerie.

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Sloane Square.

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Marbled halls of the Fitzroy. Friendly doormen.

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We attended Choral Evensong at St. Paul's, got to sit in the choir stalls which is always fun. Such beautiful, boys and men, singing.

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Rare wet day.

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I think the term "dolled up" came from the man who did this exterior decoration at the Russell Square Hotel.

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Humble, but clean and perfectly adequate, Celtic single.

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Such lovely photos, stokebailey. The grass there is so nice. It's a relief to know you are home and repaired. And, well enough to travel on!