1) Friday I just didn’t leave the hotel until evening, so there’s nothing to report except that I recorded my annual reading of the Declaration of Independence.
2) But in the evening I headed off to Spitalfields, where I had been invited for drinks before dinner with an old Boston friend and his husband. After some confusion, Craig and I ended up meeting at Liverpool Street Station to walk together to a charming little house across the street from a large church.
3) The four of us sat in a tiny brick-walled garden heavily grown with jasmine and other vines, sharing a bottle of red wine and sparkling talk in the golden evening, picturesque as all get-out.
4) Then it was off to dinner, which we found after a walk of (to me, a stranger in the neighborhood) many twists and turns. Our destination was a Spanish place that specialized in delectable small plates — and more red wine.
5) And then we enjoyed a nightcap at a nearby pub, which I’m afraid was very noisy indeed.
6) Saturday was London Pride, and Craig and I had arranged to meet at Green Park. The Underground was crowded, but not only with Pridegoers. In fact at one station a woman got in wearing a 70th birthday tiara with a matching sash, accompanied by two younger women.
7) Props to London Pride right off the bat for excellent signage. At the exit to Green Park I passed more than one sign that said KEEP MOVING. I wish I had taken pictures . . . but I had to keep moving.
8) Craig and I met just past the barriers and staked out a spot on the parade route. And in contrast to other Prides I’ve attended, it kicked off at 12:03 PM, only three minutes late, with the traditional motorcycle contingents.
8a) The joy of the day! The exuberance, and the expressions of protest. And the wide variety of delegations, from every corner of our community, expected, and surprising. The rainbows, the costumes . . . and then the umbrellas, as a light rain began. I’m afraid my view of the parade was blocked for awhile.
The B, free!
8b) And then the parade itself was blocked for awhile. A long while. Now, I’m used to this at Prides, but we were facing the same delegations for quite a bit of time. And one of the most interesting moments happened during this period. A pink balloon shaped like the letter B escaped from someone’s hand and went sailing up in the wind, up and down in front a building across the street. At one point it got caught in some scaffolding and we thought its flight was over, but another gust freed it, we all cheered . . . and then it drifted out of view over the roof. “B free!”
Apparently this was the vehicle that was vandalized and stopped by the protestors later in the parade.
8c) Later we found out from a volunteer and a couple ladies in front of us that the delay had been caused by a couple protestors who had glued (or otherwise attached) themselves to one of the lead vehicles in the parade.
8d) But Craig and I hung on, having seen a marching band in the distance — and for me any kind of parade needs at least one good marching band. And then there they were! Turns out they were leading several military contingents, including the Royal Navy among others.
9) Not too long after that — after the passing of someone dressed rather convincingly as her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II — Craig and I decided to head off for lunch after two hours of the seven-hour parade. Through Green Park, past the Palace, we ended up at a French place called Something Antoinette for a lovely brunch. We ended up comparing English and American eggs over my salmon Benedict.
10) And then we bid each other farewell at St. James Park station; Craig returns home tomorrow, while I remain here another week. It’s been really nice to have a close friend at the ready after two months of travel.
11) It will not surprise you to learn that a NAP was in order, but at 6 I forced myself up and went off to dinner at a French place near my hotel: mushroom rillettes, fish with hollandaise and broccolini (only they call it tenderstem broccoli or some such), and then a chocolate praline torte a la mode. And a rosé negroni — how novel! — quite delicate in fact, but with too much of a hint of grapefruit for me.
11a) The First Celebrities kept me occupied through dinner, particularly the Duke of Buckingham and Chandos. Two things stood out to me: a) his extreme profligacy, and b) the author’s comments on the duke’s account of an 1827 voyage: “. . . the book is just the vivid miscellany a travelogue should be, informative and entertaining, moving rapidly from scene to scene and topic to topic, structured only by the author’s personality and itinerary.” While the first is certainly a warning, the second is what I hope my own account of the last couple months has been.
This school group was in front of us for much of the long pause caused by the protest. Here they are doing the Macarena. Not the sign, the reassurance we all want: YOU ARE VALID.