I’ll cover the weekend later; apologies for the delay. Too busy living it to write it down!
1) In my dream I had animals, one of which was a large tadpole sort of thing with 1,000 eyes — like that monster in the animations of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. To see it suddenly with all its eyes open was quite a shock!
2) The irony of being so glad to be back in a country where I spoke the principal language is that the Final Hotel’s coffee machine and the original language of the breakfast room attendant are not English. Nevertheless, there was coffee.
3) Kensington High Street feels very familiar after previous stays in London (2019, 2023), which it was a pleasure to reflect on as I walked to my first order of business, a much-needed haircut and beard trim. My barber turned out to be a Sardinian who has been in London for 12 years and England much longer, and we talked a lot about travel, particularly a trip he made to Mexico.
Fresh cut!
3a) I’m very happy with the results; my head looks much more organized.
4) My Interlochen friend Bootsie had suggested I visit Leighton House when I came to London in 2019, which I did — and I loved it. Staying so nearby (it’s on the other side of Holland Park), I went back. Since 2019 they have added a little café and allowed photographs of the interiors. It was wonderful to be there on this very hot day, as almost no one else had decided to visit!
The stair hall as seen through the Narcissus Hall. Lord Leighton very clearly stole my life.
4a) Leighton House, the home of Frederick Lord Leighton, the great Victorian artist, is a little gem of a maximalist Orientalist paradise, celebrating rich colors, tile work, and carving — and peacock feathers. The sound of the little water tassel in the Arab Room communicated coolness. Upstairs in the Silk Room I got to have a nice chat with the guide on duty.
4b) In the temporary gallery they had mounted a small show from the bequest of a collector of Victorian art named Chester French. Something he was quoted saying struck a chord with me: “Edward Burne-Jones’s drawings are beyond everything . . . but I wake o’ nights thinking how mad it is to live with pictures when one’s house is going to decay and civilisation is surely going. And yet, and yet . . . ” I took this as a sign that, during our National Moment, it remains vital to continue to celebrate, create, and safeguard what is beautiful, in the face of everything.
The dome of the Arab Room.
4c) In the little café I had a sandwich and a glass of wine for remarkably little money, and with practically no company at all. I may have to go back there.
5) From there, on a whim, I headed into the Design Museum, where their special exhibition, Splash!, focused on swimming and style over the last 100 years. While there was an awful lot of swimsuits — from “sunback” bathing suits and speedos to burkinis — they also covered architecture, ecology, and politics. A fascinating show.
It’s a towel and a cape!
5a) Feeling my energy flagging, I restored myself with a cappuccino and a chocolate brownie in their top floor Design Kitchen. Just the ticket as . . .
MARY!
6) . . . suddenly I was meeting Craig at the National Portrait Gallery. Poor Craig, he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, because there was something or someone for me to get excited about at every turn. Apparently my Gasps of Recognition were heard throughout, but, well . . . if you can’t get excited about seeing something beautiful unexpectedly, you’re dead inside.
The Coronation Portrait!
6a) There was a gallery of Tudors, basically the casts of The Private Life of Henry VIII and Fire Over England. There was a gallery of Stuarts, including several of the folks I’d just read about in Queen James. Princess Charlotte (first edition)! Queen Adelaide! Ada Lovelace! Queen Victoria’s father, the Duke of Kent! Lord Byron, Mary Shelley, and Dr. Polidori! Mrs. Siddons! Jenny Lind! John Wesley! Fanny Kemble! Pocahantas! Dame Maggie Smith and Dame Judi Dench! And on and on.
National Treasures!
6b) Her late Majesty by Annigoni!
Maharajah Duleep Singh by Spy.
6c) Earlier this year I read Sophia: Princess, Suffragette, Revolutionary about Princess Sophia Duleep Singh. And wouldn’t you know it, there were four portraits of people from her life: her father Maharajah Duleep Singh, her eldest brother Victor, and her suffragette friends Christabel and Emmeline Pankhurst.
6d) THAT WOMAN! I certainly wasn’t expecting to see her . . . but that portrait is one of her very best.
6e) I Gasped with Recognition over favorite portraitists, too, when I recognized their work: John Singer Sargent, Giovanni Boldini, my beloved Philip de Lazslo, Sir William Orpen.
6f) I was practically melting down with delight — no, not the heat.
7) After all that stimulation, turns out it was the cocktail hour. We drifted in roughly the direction of Seven Dials, dallying a bit in I forget which square which was broadcasting opening day coverage of Wimbledon. People on the grass and in lawn chairs eagerly watching the action on screen!
7a) We ended up at a standard pub, ordered drinks, and Considered Many Things. One of which, after a bit, turned out to be dinner. And after a bit of wandering, wouldn’t you know it, we ended up back at that food court where the cheese conveyor belt is. But this time we went to a Syrian place for some excellent lamb.
8) Afterward, I wandered to Tottenham Court Road to take the Central Line home. This involved a lovely leisurely walk through Kensington Gardens, which is now my neighborhood park. Joggers, strollers, families, sunbathers (even at that hour), dogs and their humans.
9) I finished out the day sitting in the hotel breakfast room by an open window, writing this, and contemplating all the Big Issues.
The gigantic Sir John Lavery family portrait of the Windsors (minus most of the boys).