flanneruk

Art.

Now this one really is serious.

Swiss Cottage tube isn't named after a restaurant. It's named after the area it's located in. And that area is named after the most visible PUB in the area.

And that's one of the most important reasons places round here get the names they do. The first square on our Monopoly is The Angel Islington - an area named after the old coaching inn. The ugliest area the bureaucrats imposed on us in the 60s is and was called the Elephant and Castle - after the pub on the site. Bus destinations are old pubs, like the Nag's Head or Jack Straw's Castle.

Where more heritage-starved cities fret about saving buildings, we have entire movements geared to stopping the vandals changing historic pub names - because they've often had more influence on how London is the way it is than any monarch or politician.

Confuse our monarchs. Get the London/Tower bridge thing the wrong way round (if that's what you did, though I'm not sure)

But call Swiss Cottage a restaurant? Words fail me.

yeadonite

They Cant Always Give Wrong Directions? Huh!
I've complained about people who work in transportation, are not informed about exactly where major sites are. However, if you've traveled on the underground, there is usually, (notice I said usually ) Clearly posted direction signs, Huge Black letters on white background, easily read, and at the platform there is a another map showing where you are headed.

On the subway (underground) train, there are maps with a clearly posted map, and if that's not enough, on some there are clear, easily to understand statements as to the last stop of the run and the approaching stations.

The British underground is huge and more complicated than NYC's and really quite easy to follow. Understand I am on holiday and don't mind if I misread a direction. When I do, it's a sign, that there is something to see. So I go above ground to find what I missed. Well, it always doesn't work. I ended up once in a wholesale fabric and design center. I pretended for a moment to be a high level New York Garment District guy, but my I Dali cap gave it away.

I have seen at many bus stations, electronic signs telling when the next bus and where it is bound. I must say, I haven't seen that at all the bus stations, I have sat in. Sat in? Not quick, I sat slanted on a bright orange metal bench with little room for my tuchie or in Greek, colos, so I felt I was in danger of slipping out into the street.

It was an excellent day to go to Hampstead Heath and Kenwood House, a site I've seen in on of my most favorite film "Notting Hill" the scene in which Julie Roberts tells another actor that Hugh Grant doesn't mean anything to her and he hears it through the mike. A turning point in the movie, but let me get on.

In the guide to getting there, it says that the C11 bus stops. Okay, that bus route is a block or so away from the house, I got on, feeling jolly when the driver told me this was the place to get off, and he vaguely pointed up a hill saying, I think, that's the way to Heath.

I was at a small square which was a major bus stop for five or six buses, and the drivers sat there smoking a fag, and chatting, and I asked which way was Hampstead Heath. They didn't even know what the heck I was talking about.

Hey gang, I know I talk too fast and my aging synapses might be affecting me, so I pulled out my folder and showed them. It did some good. I was told to catch the 268 bus at the top of the hill.

Sounds simple, doesn't it, but I got to the top of the hill there was no bus stop but a sign point to Hampstead Heath, and I made the mistake of presuming it can't be too far away since the travel brochure said the C11 was one to get me there.

It is about one in the afternoon, and muggy--NYC weather--I bought a Diet Coke and thought--I haven't done too much lately and brisk short hill wouldn't be bad. When will I ever challenge myself when I think so stupidly. So I walked up a winding hill with lovely large homes on one side and a wooded area dotted with many signs as to the fact that this was indeed Hampstead Heath. (I must google Heath. I think it means a kind of swamp.) Editing by his daughter – Heath is an area dominated by low-growing shrubs with woody stems and narrow leaves (eg heather), which often predominate on acidic or upland soils.

I walked uphill for about an hour, and I was exhausted until I saw a field marked Hampstead Heath, I went in and sat down at a bench filled with three blue haired women who were from Milwaukee, and we chatted away and they told me that the Heath wasn't far away, and really didn't take pity of my sweating, worn out persona.

I finally made it to one of the entrances, and by this time it was two or three, I had, in my delirium, no sense of the time and my sweat filled eyeballs gave me no help. I walked down the tree lined lane and came into a clearing.

It was Kenwood House! It was built in 1734 by the Earl of Mansfield and had it remolded by London's fashionable architect, Robert Adam and Humphry Repton to do the landscape.

And Edward Guinness (I knew I should have worn my Guinness cap), Earl of Inveigh hung the walls with Rembrandts, Gainsborough’s, Vermeer’s and Romney’s.

The people of Hampstead saved the land from being developed and it is stunning.

My weariness left me when I saw the house, white, and grand. I must admit that I wasn't in shape to walk most of the ground, so I spent a large part of my time inside the house (no charge!!) and seeing the paintings.

I have a slight conditioned dislike to Gainsborough’s, and other paintings I saw since we were preached about them in my school in Norristown, Penna. I made a concerted effort to adjust to them.

I think I will go back to see it again since I know how to get there and let the beauty of the place seep into me. My writing skills don't work well for me when I see sights like Kenwood house.

It's interesting to note that I found my way back simply by talking to a Hungarian man and his British wife. There was a bus but not one of the bus drivers seem to be aware of it.

As usual, I prattled on but hey, it's my journal.

Famous Uncle Art

yeadonite

flanneruk I have urged art to try and get it right this time. I am now his fact checker

SandyBrit

FAMOUSUNCLEART - I can just picture you slogging along to Hampstead Heath. Hope I am as stubborn and adventuresome when I am your age. So glad you made it and do go back now that you know the way.

Did you get the shower thing sorted out?

How about a little bit of where and what you are eating. I'd be interested.

Thanks for posting.

Sandy

FAMOUSUNCLEART

Going Down on Camdentown

There is a mail joy in doing a home exchange, if you don't feel up to doing anything, you're not spending 200£ a day to do nothing. I mentioned the other day that I had walked a great distance to find the elusive Scarlet Pimpernel…sorry, to discover the Hampstead Heath, and for me a great distance is roughly two plus miles.

So, I rested for a day, two days, to be accurate. However, today, a Sunday I felt the need to get out and about and find an online service. I hopped a #31 bus to Camden Town where I had used an online service. The machines weren't working and I had a Iranian lunch of vegetable pie...it was excellent, mostly tomatoes, and vegetables which I could not identify.

I think I mentioned that going there is like going back to the seventies when everybody was a hippy. (I know I am dating myself but there is nobody else to date.

I had seen the hippies before and have commented on them in a previous post, but I was surprised to see that the population of Camden Town was swollen with people who came to see the hippies and shop. It was jammed. I mean, jammed like Fifth avenue is around Christmas Time (Did I use that before?)

There is a market in the town which only opens on weekends, and it was too crowded for me since I really didn't want to buy anything they were selling. So I did what others were doing...looking at the hippies. My interest petered out quickly.

However one couple grabbed my attention, a young man of thirty or so and a woman got out of a taxi. He was dressed as normally as me, i.e., no spiked hair, not beaded pants, etc. She was around fifty or fifty plus and her make up reminded me of Sunset Blvd and the famous scene of Gloria Swanson saying "I'm ready for my close up Mr. Demille"

I didn't have my camera with me (always leave your house with a camera when on vacation) and I doubt she would have let me take her photograph. I followed the couple for a block or so and nobody, not even the ordinary people, gave her a glance!

What do I make of all this? I am not a pundit but I suspect Londoners are more blasé or as blasé as New Yorkers think they are.

I am on my way home for a lunch of rosemary broiled potatoes and chicken, to ponder the importance as dress is to living and living the way one wants to live.

FAMOUSUNCLEART

A Freudian Slip And London like it was

My neighborhood is well known. MY NEIGHBORHOOD! I love that, I've been here for about three weeks and I call it my own. I have places to eat, where I buy my diet coke and my underground stops...it is my, I repeat my, neighborhood. I've given up 90th and Columbus.

Anyway, Sigmund Freud lived near me for almost two years after he left Vienna. I would see a small blue sign reading "The Freud Museum” with an arrow. I followed the arrow up a steep incline...not stairs, but a forty five degree incline up to an upper class neighborhood.

A small blue sign gave me directions, and I walked down a tree lined row of large homes. This was or is not a council home row. I almost missed the very small blue sign which stated that, indeed, this was the house where he lived. I walked in and there was a sign the size of a cigarette back which read that the museum is only Weds thru Sunday. I swear, dear friends, I will go back.

St Paul's cathedral was built by the great architect Sir Christopher Wren and he is buried there. I had heard and read that the Cathedral had been renovated, and cleaned. I had seen it on one of my past trips. I am not a religious man but I respect the building of Cathedrals and, to be PC, any house of worship. The difference was immense and I think the floods of people visiting the cathedral were drawn to it because it has been refurbished to its original color and design. At least as close as possible.

St. Paul's had a cafe which they called the Crypt Cafe. It was eerie to eat there. Crypt Cafe. I was always bothered by Terminal Cafes but Crypt? I ate there and am alive to tell about it.

From there, I went to the London Museum and I didn't know what to expect. It had an exhibit called "Before London Was London" and depicts the way the land was back in 3000BC and followed its history to 2005.

As you can gather, I loved it. I can’t describe all the details that went into it, but it reinforces what I know about how towns build. It always centers around water, a river or an ocean port.
The Romans played a major part of civilizing London and the exhibit points out that they were not thought of enemies but rather soldiers who taught them and built different cities. London gets its name from Londinium which what was what the Romans called it.

The museum also had an exhibit about WWII and how the Brits survived the Blitz. One fact intrigued me. When the soldiers were demobbed (discharged) they got shirts, suits, pans, hats, shoes and coats. When I got demobbed I got a little golden eagle to stick in my civvies.

ira

Great reports, Unc.

FAMOUSUNCLEART

I Was Mean In Greenwich

When I say Greenwich, UK, what comes first to mind? Greenwich Mean Time which all our Rolexes and Computers need to function? Well, I couldn't find the mean time but I had a delightful time.

I left early and made the mistake of taking the underground to Northern Greenwich, thinking it would be a short walk to Greenwich. Once again, Solo Traveler is wrong!!! It took a long time since I had to catch a 188 bus from there to the center of town and bus was not a frequent flyer. If you ever plan to go take the boat, more fun although it costs a bit more.

I left early since there was a possibility of a late storm and had a standard British breakfast, one egg, ham (we call it Canadian bacon) sausage, baked beans, a slice of bread and coffee. I couldn't finish it all but I felt fortified to tour Greenwich.

It was an interesting city or village, really, to see. I always connected Greenwich with the mean time and didn't realize its historical significance. It is on the Thames which accounts for its importance for trade and royalty.

In its beginning, I suspect it was a vacation spot for royalty, for example the Duke of Glouster had a tower built with Henry VII used for "romantic assignations." Woman would watch from Tillyard Tower men in the courtyard performing to "show their prowess." It reeks of bawdy history and yet the buildings are austere.

The man yard consists of seven or eight beautiful buildings and one thing which caught my attention was that often they mirrored each other. I haven't been able to find out why but it creates an eerie view to see the duplicates sitting, staring at each other.

One building (I’m running out of adjectives) was the Queen House and was built by Inigo Jones, a well known and respected architect. However, when I got close to other buildings, I could see that time, weather etc has begun to etch wear and tear on them.

Today, they are used as schools for music, the U of Greenwich and the National Maritime Museum. I didn't get a chance to go there but I will probably when Connie comes to London.

There is a tunnel running under the Thames from Greenwich to London, but I went to see what it was like and found three men, middle aged, who thought it was too scary. So Did I.

The Greenwich Park is, like most in UK, a pleasant place, I went to the Observatory but put it off to another time...a meaner time oops, sorry.

The boat ride back to London was much more pleasant than the underground and bus ride, and I learned a lot about the Thames and it all wasn't pretty. The river was used for all kind of sewage which doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

Before the many bridges and tunnels, the boat men who ferried people from one bank to the other was rough, cut throat guys and reminded me of the boat people in Stockholm who did the same thing.

Again, I do recommend it for anyone coming here.

That’s all gang. I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am.

And the Brits were happy that Michael Jackson got off.

Artie

janis

I'm really enjoying your reports - seems that you are very adventurous and having a great time.

But REALLY . ."found three men, middle
aged, who thought it was too scary. So Did I." Sheesh - what a wuss! I'm barely 5 feet tall and couldn't fight my way put of a paper bag - yet I've walked through that tunnel many times.

If you go back to Greenwich after your daughter meets you, think about taking the boat down river to Greenwich and then walk through the tunnel under the river and catch the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) back up river to the Tower.

Connie will protect you if it still looks too scary

PatrickLondon

Dear Uncle Art - come back to Greenwich on a Sunday and you'll see the tunnel absolutely chockablock with the world and his wife (and children, bikes, what have you). I use it all the time.

Glad to see you share my enthusiasm for the Museum of London: you may find references in old British novels to the "demob suit", meaning the suit the soldiers got given on demobilization after WW2. Some were treasured and lasted for a very long time, but some were felt to be a bit too obvious (ill-fitting, too broad a stripe) and denoted the type of person who would go on wearing it (usually a 'spiv' or specialist in dodgy deals and things that "fell off the backs of lorries", in the days of continuing rationing).

FAMOUSUNCLEART

Hiya Gang:

They were three young men (3's plus) and they were 'scared' one chap said to me "I think it is frightengly awesome but I darent go down there. It's a sticky wicket, Chappie." Nahhh..he didn't say that but he might have. Seriously, they were spooked by the darnkness of the tunnel.
Some of you have asked about the food, what is the English cuiisine? There isn't any.
But for those interested, since I am in my own swapped apartment, I usually have OJ, tea or coffee in the morning. If I feel daring, I will have some scrambled eggs...they don't start out scrambled but end up that way.

When I go on my travels, I carry a small bottle of water and a Snickers bar for fast energy.
Since a UK cuisine doesn't exist, I pick out entnic food. So far I have eaten often in a Middle Eastern (Iran?) Cafe with mostly vegetarian selections. There is a large display of different entries and I will point to something which contains a vegetable I recognize and I will point to it and ask what it is. The reposne is usally "It's a vegetarian dish." It suffices and it quite good.

I have also gone to Chinese restaurants and order what I usually order back in Manhattan..mon ton soup and lo Mein noodles. I dont want to experiment with new Chinese entrees. I had some veal paramsae (sp) with cost about 12 l£ and wasn't worth it...the place is Chalcost..not worth the trip.

I think in one of my postings, I talked about eating fish and chips in a garden cafe on the south bank. The fish was as large as JAWS, the french fries were McDonald rip offs and the peas were right out of a can, but the ambience, the garden was worth the food.

My favorite restaurant I found quite by accident while I was in a huge complex of expensive American shops. It is called Ed's and it is modeled after American joints in the fifties, three counters with red leather stools, and the menu consists mostly of hamburgers and hot dogs.

My family ran a gloried hot-dog/hamburger joint and I do have a fondness for them. Eds does make a great medium cooked hamburger, it is juicy, and comes in an eatable bun, not toated, but garnished with sweet cooked onions. That and a diet coke in an old fashioned bottle did the trick for me.

I've been there three times--its right near my underground stop--and it is usually has a gaggle of teen age boys and girls drinking malts and sodas. At one small booth there were four boys and three girls, giggling, laughing, sipping and crewing hamburgers with a spoor of food on the table top. One young lady laughed so much she slid under the table till only her face was above the table giggling away.

Now that sight is worth going back to Ed's even though there are slogans like"Take outs are find but leave the table and chairs." On odd touch, the record player was playing a 50's song but above the counters was a huge television screen..silent but there were MTV type of rap groups doing 2005 music. It fit.

I hope this answers all your questions

Gundy

Uncle Artie,

That restaurant sounds like something straight out of the set of "Happy Days", which is appropos because your messages always make me smile.

I hope I am as adventurous as you when I am 78.

Cheers!

Kate

Art, you must be talking about Ed's Diner in the O2 centre - hey, you live near me ! (ish). And yes, it's very Happy Days there. You should try Yo sushi next to it for something a little healthier

However, shocked as I am that you think we have no national cuisine, despite the fact that you've already had a full english breakfast and fish and chips, I think it's time you went to a decent gastro pub to sample some great modern British cuisine. As you're in Primrose Hill (very nice, by the way, Jude Law is your neighbour), there are at least 2 nearby, The Engineer at 65 Gloucester Avenue and Queens, 49 Regents Park Road (Chalk Farm Tube). Get yourself down there!

yeadonite

Kate and everyone else,
When are comes home I am enrolling him in a course for Political Correctness.
Connie

flanneruk

Yeadonite:

Don't you dare.

FAMOUSUNCLEART

A HOG, TWO GIRAFFES, AND A THREE DUCKS,

I was overjoyed when Connie arrived, she was overjoyed to be here since there was a long and killing heat wave in NYC, a good nights sleep and she was ready to visit or revisit London sites (She has been here a number of times) Regents Park is practically outside our door and it is a neighbor to the London Zoo.

We thought it would an excellent start for her stay here since it was close and we both like zoos. Also Connie wanted to revisit one of the scariest events in her life. Some years ago, she and her friend visited London and, of course, came to its famous Zoo. Everything was delightful until they came to the Moonlight Walk where nocturne animals lived, it was dark and they had heard a crash of glass but didn’t pay it much mind. Until…

They were deep in the labyrinth when they regretfully realized that that sound of glass coming apart was that of the bat exhibits. The bats were free, free, and they could see very clearly, thank you, with their bat radar and so they did what bats that have escaped from their prison, they flew into anything and anybody.


Connie and her friend escaped from the bat cave unharmed and unscatched. Now, some years later she wanted to go back to revisit the scary bat cave since our home exchange apartment was close-by.

One factor we did not put into the equation was the heat. Connie, like a bad joke, brought the heat wave with her but after a time, we did not laugh.

Nor did the animals, most of them were inside a cool shady place. No lions or bears Oh MY We did see one hog who was wallowing in mud and when I got close to take a picture of the huge beast, he arose and shook off the excess mud. I was splattered and my skin freckled with dots of hog mud and I look liked a walking example of a liver spotted elderly gentleman.

Connie much wiser in her youth had stayed far from the mud slide.

We did see two giraffes who were just out side their abode and since they were the only animals in sight there were a gaggle of photographers doing what tourists do, one stood in front and their partner took a picture of the person standing in front of two giraffes on one of the hottest days this summer in balmy old London.

And finally three ducks waddling slowly near the water. I wanted to ask for a rain check but Connie, the sensible one, talked me out of it.

Oh, we saw the bat cave and Connie asked a guard if she remembered the escape of monster bats, she had said that no one was hurt except for two hysterical teen agers!

SandyBrit

FAMOUSUNCLEART - I am glad that Connie arrived safely and how happy you are to see her. How long do you have left to enjoy the house exchange?

How much does it cost to visit the London Zoo these days?

Thanks.

Sandy

yeadonite

Sandy it was 14 pounds! Quite expensive.

ira

ttt

FAMOUSUNCLEART

Hiya Gang:



Our apartment has two skylights in the living room, one in the bathroom, one in my bedroom, but none in Connie’s just an ordinary window but with a great view. Skylights are excellent since they let in the sun, great on balmy days but murder during this the rare London heat wave in some years.



There is a long aluminum pole with a hook on the top end, and it was hidden behind my bedroom door. When Connie and I were trying to decide who and how we could open the skylights, I realized that the mysterious pole was meant to open the skylights. We did so quite easily…just a minor scratch on the living room door, but the open skylights brought in whiffs of cooler air..



The next day, Sunday, was even hotter. I do get confused easily with centigrade and farenhiet but no matter the numbers 23 or 90plus, it was, simply put, a scorcher.



Generally, there is no air-conditioning in London, I thought there weren’t a place we could cool off, but Connie in her endeavor to escape the heat—she has asthma and the heat aggravates it, she found a restaurant with air conditioning…the Pizza Express!



On the way there, I thought she lost her mind...a Pizza Parlor!! I was wrong again!

The place was cool, mostly empty, and the food was excellent, simply tomatoes and mozzarella with a garlic oil dressing and a pizza about the size of an old 78-rpm record, with different toppings…my favorite was the anchovy topping. (Why do so many people hate anchovies?).

The service was slow but we didn’t mind that they took hours to finally give us the check since we basked in the coolness place on earth for us.



We went to bed feeling that tomorrow would be better and cooler. I fell asleep fast and around nine in the morning I heard the refreshing cleansing sound of rain, I turned over and almost fell asleep until I realized RAIN! The skylights were opened. I jumped out of bed grabbed the long pole and like an knight of old, I ran to the open windows and fighting the fierce down pour I quickly closed the skylights before the rain could do any harm. I felt like a wet King Arthur in Camelot.



Connie addressed me, the King, to get dried and dressed since we were going to the National Gallery; I packed my
Fortum and Mason (!) bag with an umbrella, two bottles of water and my ubiquitous diet coke.



The Underground ride was another wet disaster for me since the moisture on bottles wet the bag, which soaked through to my khaki pants giving me the old-gentleman-must-have-had-a-problem-with-his-bladder-look! Older chaps gave me a knowing nod of understanding!!!



It had stopped raining when we got to the National Gallery, I checked by leaking bag, which was handled by the heck-in gentleman as if the dripping water was something medical..

As poor as everything went up to then, every painting, every door we went though was an excursion into painting cutting across centuries of style, grandeur and beauty.



Connie was like something out of H.G.Welles or Steven Spielberg, she took us on a time travel to the past, starting with this century--the impressionistegs, cubist, etc and running down the centuries in the course of an hour or so. I gave a nod to the painters of olde like Gainsborough, Rembrandt. Carvaggio, Botticelli, Van Eyck, and Stubbs we slipped by the famous and unknowns like blurs of modernity passing by in our own anonymity..



We then stopped by the nearby Liecestar Square to see Tom Cruise but all we saw was a huge wet spot. The square itself was being refurbished. Connie says “Lets go to Convent Gardens and I thought it was a good idea since as you know I love markets, but she meant she wanted to shop for a new dress! She knewSince Convent Gardens is a major shopping for women.

I stood outside different shops and studied woman shoppers, they often shop in pairs, one very attractive and usally her friend was...well...not as attractive. They entered happy and delighted, but those who didn't buy anything exited morose.

Solo shoppers oftened stopped at the entrance, hesitated, looked at the first rack, and often turned around and left.

I was enjoying this survey when Connie wanted to go to...you got it..another shop.

I said I need food, we found the original Gardens, a space much like the ground floor of the Globe.

I bought a sandwich from Prêt a Manger and my diet coke and (How do they keep those pre packed sandwiches so fresh?) Isat at a courtyard surrounded by different shops. I had an hour to kill.



The God or Goddess of actors smiled on me. As I was munching away, two men, dressed in black suits, one with a tee shirt the other with a shirt and bow tie, I knew they were actors, no make up but their faces were sunburned. they muttered to each other and finally they came into the open courtyard and announced who they were and told a few bad jokes and put on their act.



A bit of juggling, a bit of a spool on a thread, a lot of bad jokes, a profusion of sweat, some flop sweat, some since it was hot. I admired the routine they did while drinking bottled water.

Commedia Dell'arte was my masters subject and it was a pleasure to see the tradition still alive, some of the lazzi (bits) originated five or six centuries ago and were still funny.
A crowd built up and they ended their act with a great deal of applause and clinking of pounds in their hat. A perfect way to kill the time it took while Connie got a dress since she brought clothes for the cool weather and she looked veddy British.

More later

Artie