1) After three or four hours of heavy sleep, I endured wakefulness for about three more hours, conscious of my pedal extremities and the world. And a low-grade headache, which I diagnosed from having toted my heavy laptop bag on my shoulder through much of disembarkation — the kind of headache I know from experience no pill can tame. I gave the day a grudging start and, how very rare, didn’t complete my morning pages.
2) A large latte (no, not a flat white) and an almond croissant helped set me up a bit. My alter ego has said more than once that, if you’re going to be fussy about your sweetener, you need to bring your own. So I’m traveling with a box of Sweet ’n’ Low packets, since they never seem to have it here. Oddly enough, a bond I have with my dad and my granny.
3) Euston to Oxford Circus to Queensway brought me to sun-saturated Kensington. Its wide straight path brought me to the front of Kensington Palace, my principal destination for the day. I had so much enjoyed my visit two years ago, and I was looking forward to this year’s special exhibition Dress Codes, which included gowns of Princess Diana.
3a) The approach to the palace is dominated by a white statue of Queen Victoria executed by her daughter Princess Louise. I wandered past its left down one of the paths, and by the time I got to the front, lines were beginning to form for the first two entry times. So I ended up fourth in line, which will surprise no one. I stood and read Chasing Beauty for the intervening 25 minutes.
3b) The palace staff were so gracious and understanding but professional in answering questions and approaching passersby about their needs.
Princess Diana at the entrance to Dress Codes.
4) Came time to enter, and I bolted up immediately to Dress Codes, and had the unbelievable luxury of having the exhibition almost all to myself! Which was a very handy way to view it. I should probably write about this as my alter ego, but suffice it to say that a) they included clothes from the 18th century forward to this one, b) formal, ceremonial, casual all have dress codes, c) clothes not just of the royal family, but also courtiers and staff, and d) commentary and fashion designs created by “Young Producers,” teenagers of remarkable perception. I enjoyed it all very much.
This white and mauve Ascot dress of Queen Alexandra’s is royal mourning.
5) The palace’s stone hall has a double staircase (on which young Princess Victoria met young Prince Albert for the first time), and I went up the side I remembered mounting when I was there two years ago. And wouldn’t you know it, a friendly-faced white-bearded volunteer at the top of the stairs told me I was on the wrong side. But he kindly let me past the velvet rope to the other, apparently correct side, and on I went. I was puzzled, because I knew I remembered correctly. What had changed?
The Fife tiara.
6) All unawares, I entered the Jewel Room, where I was face to face with Dahling’s equivalent of the Precious, the Fife Tiara. A parure of emeralds and diamonds designed by Prince Albert for Queen Victoria, it is truly beautiful. Then there’s that other tiara with the diamond drops. I hope I am remembering correctly which one is Dahling’s favorite!
7) From here one proceeds to the apartments that were Queen Victoria’s childhood home. These rooms were decorated to approximate their appearance based on old documents, etc., as none of the furnishings or hangings had survived. This also gave the curators the freedom to tell the story of Princess Victoria’s upbringing and desire for independence in a novel way, with the use of china dolls in every room. Everyone is a little doll! Princess Victoria, her mother the Duchess of Kent, the evil comptroller Sir John Conroy, her half-sister Feodora, her governess Baroness Lehzen. I found it enchanting two years ago, and remained enchanted.
A doll tableau of Princess Victoria on her progress in Ramsgate being hectored by evil Sir John Conroy.
7a) In the ballroom (which seemed small) where Victoria’s 17th birthday ball was held, the friendly-faced white-bearded volunteer approached me and we fell into conversation. By this time I had remembered that in 2023, the side of the staircase I went up was the entrance to that year’s special exhibition, Court and Couture. He remembered it, too, and we chatted for quite awhile.
7b) This time I noticed specially a white lace dress the princess wore as a girl, shown together with a portrait of her with her dog. This made me think happily of my little great niece in the Old Hometown.
A doll tableau of the young queen’s first Privy Council, in the room in which it took place.
7c) Crowding was not really an issue here except in the bedroom where the princess was born. And here the crowd seemed to be a family group or two all listening doggedly to the audio guide.
On the King’s Staircase with its remarkable murals.
8) From there it was up the King’s Staircase with its extravagant murals depicting Hanoverian courtiers and servants to the King’s and Queen’s Apartments. I had to wonder what they were used for when Victoria was growing up there, and if she ever snuck in as a little girl to wonder at the abandoned murals and paintings.
Paper clothes!
8a) The apartments are decorated for the time of George II and his wife Queen Caroline of Ansbach. One interesting curatorial addition is figures of male and female court dress of the period made out of white paper — down to the ruffles!
8b) In one of the public apartments one of the guides was giving a talk, with tourists seated at the period card tables, going into symptoms of diseases you could have caught from rats in the 18th century. It was going on a bit long and gruesome for me, so I squeezed through and proceeded to the long room hung with red damask and many beautiful paintings.
9) Two modern design notes on the ground floor: the restroom peds all had crowns, and b) a very modern wallpaper design of the many moods of Princess Diana.
10) After a glimpse at the Princess Diana Memorial Garden, I decided to treat myself to lunch in the Orangery restaurant a few steps away. Very swish, and I have a lovely chicken caesar salad, which they serve with a soft-boiled egg. Simple and lovely — until, that is, both my credit cards were declined by two of those device scanner thingies three times each. Thank goodness I had sufficient local currency.
11) Then I sallied forth through the gardens, on a quest for an ATM, in the general direction of Harrod’s. I passed Prince’s Gate, where the Mitfords lived, but was more generally anxious about my cards suddenly being declined everywhere.
11a) If I made a test purchase at Harrod’s, that’s my business.
12) Smartphones are wonderful . . . when they work. But for when they don’t, I’ve learned to map out where I’m going before I leave the hotel and take screenshots of the resulting maps. Which is exactly what I needed to rely on to get where I was going, because I couldn’t get a network connection.
13) I passed 20 minutes in a pretty neighborhood park, with a lavender garden and wide grassy spaces for sunbathing. On entering, I was surprised to see walking toward me a policeman escorting a man out of the park. I could not tell if handcuffs were involved or not, or the condition of the apprehended man, indigent or criminal. Later my masseur, who lives a block away, explained that there is an area of park that attracts drug use, so it might have been that.
14) If I was brick building, my masseur found the weak points in the plaster of my shoulder blades to topple the edifice. My shoulders, I hope, will never be the same.
15) So, feeling like the weight of the world had been quite literally lifted from my shoulders, I entered the Underground . . . to have my credit card declined at the ticket machine. This resulted in a Discussion About Technology and Feelings with a Tenaciously Helpful Underground Employee, who would not stop asking me if I had a “contactless card,” which of course I don’t. He then had to explain that it was a bank card, and I had to explain to him that the last time I used my bank card that way back home my bank starting treating it like a credit card and not a debit card, and may I please just get a ticket to Euston? Again, thank goodness I had local currency.
15a) Craig, God bless him, sorted me out later via text. That man is the soul of patience.
15b) This put me on the Underground during rush hour, escalators and platforms torrents of humanity. Among other London Types, I spotted a young dandy seated near the center of the car: panama hat with a hatband of blue and green stripes, bow tie, navy blazer — sharp. The negotiation for space was typical of subways the world over. I felt relatively undisturbed reading my book, even though I was near the door.
16) At Euston, I picked up a couple sandwiches — not in the mood to go out. But after those sandwiches I went downstairs to the lobby bar and began a lengthy process of ordering a negroni. This involved going down to the cellar for an ingredient, looking up the recipe, and then questioning my room number. In the words of the late Eve Harrington “I only asked a simple question.”
17) And then I hunkered down and caught up on my travel blog. To my astonishment, I did catch up by bedtime!
