“The rising of birds in their flight is the sign of an ambuscade. Startled beasts indicate that a sudden attack is coming.”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War
More from the heron posse in Regent’s Park.
Tag: Britain
“Every duke and earl and peer is here,
Everyone who should be here is here…”
– My Fair Lady
So…in continuing adjustment to new business and spousal paradigms, Jeff’s summer social activity for work this year will be at Ascot.
Spouses are not invited.
This might affect my marriage, kittens.
(image via)
“London was so rich, and also so green, and somehow so detailed: full of stuff that had been made, and bought, and placed, and groomed, and shaped, and washed clean, and put on display as if the whole city was for sale.”
― John Lanchester, Capital
Regent’s Park is the brainchild of George the Prince Regent, later George IV, but the land on which it sits had been in royal hands since Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries and snapped up the property for himself. As he was wont to do.
George (who it must be said is being hilariously downplayed in the poster campaigns around the city as a number of exhibitions and events celebrate the 300th anniversary of the rise of the house of Hanover) was pretty useless as a regent and monarch. In fact he consistently ranks down among the worst king in British history in the sorts of polls that historians run. Corpulent, lazy, unimpressive, and obnoxious, we nevertheless still need to thank him since a number of his building projects helped create London as we know it today.
That’s not snow on the ground, it’s a natural carpet of daisies. I know, right?!
A flock of herons (which I’ve never seen associating in a group before) flirted with tourists and followed likely looking crumb droppers, looking for the world like a pack of spindly dinosaurs.
Gorgeous.
This garden was cordoned off. But I saw enough people meandering through it anyway that I hopped the barrier and joined them for a close up of a fountain of a frog spitting at a child. Which clearly is a lot more charming than it sounds on paper.
At some point you just get the feeling the park’s showing off.
So, thanks George IV! We’re still iffy enough about you 200 years down the road to awkwardly disregard you on signage, but frankly you helped make London gorgeous. For that, we thank you.
You were still a terrible king, a bad father, and a truly hideous husband.
“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”
― Mark Twain
Just a quick batch this week kittens. My future bestselling YA author buddy Caitlin is in town – from China, by way of Paris. We’ve been swapping stories of the expat and writing life, taking tea, and going to the theatre. And if you’ll excuse me, we’re off this evening for more of the same (you can follow along on our adventures here until the official recap in a couple days)! Here are your links and tell me what you’re up to this weekend!
In honor of Caitlin, who for a time worked as Winnie-the-Pooh at Disney World, I’ll just leave this thing here. Oh bother!
Amanda Brooks is an author and former Barney’s fashion director who switched up her life and career plans to move to a farm in Britain with her family. She blogs about it here (and her instagram feed is beyond worth following), cataloging her rural life. I loved this recent post on the hunts she and her family participate in. Blood sport is controversial, and I’m not making an argument about it here, but I have to admit the tweedy, old fashioned, country elegance of the participants makes for some beautiful photography! Lady Mary, is that you?
Excellent advice for writers, #8 resonates with me particularly lately.
Remember, you have the same amount of hours each day as Beyonce. And Beethoven. And Balzac.
When we were in Paris we saw that a cottage industry had sprung up around “love locks,” but apparently they are quite literally putting some structures in danger.
Baby naming phenomenons are interesting to me. This time, let’s hear it for the boys. h/t Savvy.
Hilarious and awesome writer and friend of the blog Sunny from Sunny in London, put together a great post today on tips for aspiring bloggers and writers. I took notes.
NO. Not okay! Unbelievably not okay!
I often get slightly annoyed when I hear people rave about how much they “love a British accent,” because I want them to specify: which one? Because let me tell you know, not all regional dialects are equally sexy and what most people think of as a British accent is a clipped form of speech developed almost entirely in the upper class halls of learning to be used in the new medium of radio.
The internet is a strange place, the oddest things can be linked. Often weirdly successfully.
“On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,
the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.”
― Wendy Cope
Rose, one of my buddies here in London, has been a research and teaching assistant for the last few months, but alas her program has ended and she’s heading for a last nomadic romp around the British Isles before moving back to the States. I’m sorry to lose her, we’ve had a lot of fun girl dates together, but far be it from me to stand in the way of academia’s next rising start! At the very least though, we knew she had to take in a bit more of the city before she left so we made a day of it down along Queen’s Walk on the south bank of the Thames.
The first port of call was the popular Bleecker Street food truck, parked right against the balustrade and looking out over the river. They boast that they make their burgers with “real American cheese,” which is frankly not a phrase you hear a lot in London, but I’ve got to say, they nail a good Yankee burger! All are cooked medium rare unless specified otherwise and the result is a gorgeous meaty mouthful. May I suggest their Angry Fries as a side for the adventurous? Freshly cut and covered with hot sauce and finished with melted blue cheese. Rose got those, I got the sweet potato fries (the portions are generous) and we divided and devoured them straight down the middle.
Filled with delicious food, we meandered down to the little known gem, the Southbank Centre Book Market under Waterloo Bridge. It’s small and tucked away but you can find some real literary treasures down here, including first editions of popular or important books, author signed copies, and every genre from trashy light reading to the densest of German philosophy.
Afterwards we strolled back along the Centre to admire the skate park in its undercroft. For several months now, there’s been a bit of a social brawl happening around this area. Developers wanted to turn it into more of what’s sprung up along Queen’s Way, shops and restaurants, but the skating community rallied and campaigned hard to keep it the slightly rough and graffiti marked spot as it was. I’m happy to report the skaters have won. They collected over 27,000 official planning objections and the park is safe for the foreseeable future.
Bye for now, Rose, thanks for coming out on one last adventure!
“London is a riddle. Paris is an explanation.”
― G. K. Chesterson
On our first night in Paris after our meal, we wandered along the river at in the dark – one of the best ways to take in the city of lights. Couples were cuddling, friends were blowing lazy and very French streams of cigarette smoke, a few boys were making inappropriate comments to passing women and being rebuffed with perfect flicks of their eyebrows, and everything was bathed in soft gold light.
Paris conflicts me. On the one hand, it’s stunningly beautiful. It’s colors of stone and slate are instantly recognizable the world over, and it wears both its age and good looks well. London, by comparison is certainly less romantic and elegant (Paris does have the advantage of not having been Blitzed in WWII, it must be said), and I think in many ways it’s less beautiful… but I still love London more.
Sometimes I feel like I’m not supposed to, like I’m obliged to adore Paris for the sophistication and je ne sais quoi that defines it over London’s rougher edges. But I don’t. I can’t help it. As much as I admire them and long for a touch of their style, I’m not a French girl at heart. I salute the Audrey Hepburns of the world, and will never stand in the way of a person who dreams of the Eiffel Tower, much less bash a genuine love of pastries and good dressing. Hell, hand over the pain au chocolat and wrap dresses! But as stunning as the Seine is at night, I’m afraid that in defiance of both convention and accepted popular taste, I say give me the Thames.
I plan on coming back to Paris as often as I can, but the truth is that London got her hooks into me long ago and I doubt I’ll ever get them out again. And I don’t particularly want to. That quote at the top of the post is one of my favorites about the two cities, and in the end I much prefer the riddle!
“London has the trick of making its past, its long indelible past, always a part of its present.”
― Anna Quindlen, Imagined London: A Tour of the World’s Greatest Fictional City
― Anna Quindlen, Imagined London: A Tour of the World’s Greatest Fictional City
Paris posts are coming, ducklings, but it’s been an exhilarating whirlwind of a weekend and a jam packed full Monday getting back into the swing of things. Ergo like the traveling tease I am, you have a wait another day to see the evidence of our adventures. In the meantime, I bring you this peace offering: a first of the morning view from Craven Street just off Trafalgar Square and glancing down at the Thames.
“See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask for no guarantees, ask for no security.”
― Ray Bradbury
On Thursday I was invited to attend the relaunch party of Generator London hostel. That’s right, I was on the guestlist. I’ve arrived, kittens.
And in case you think this sounds a bit of a strange launch, let me tell you, this place knows how to throw a party! Open bars, signature cocktails, and some seriously impressive taco canapes. DJs, live bands, mingling, oh my!
That might be the most British concoction I’ve ever seen in my life. As for the food!
My favorite was the chicken, I wasn’t even subtle about trailing a server at one point to get at them.
The relaunch follows a year of redesign work to upgrade the property and better manage their room space – no small feat. I’ve been through a number of hostels and this is by far the nicest I’ve seen in recent memory.
The design feel is supposed to be easy, fun, casual, urban, and the tiniest bit silly. Mission accomplished. The floor levels are all inspired by the highest of British character inspiration, Ali G you’ll notice has the place of honor. Each floor contained original spray painted artwork of phrases, figures, and allusions, and inspiration from each of the floor themes and I had quite a bit of fun wandering through the halls to find them.
The Bond floor was probably my favorite, because who doesn’t want to be greeted by a gun-and-martini-wielding stick figure, but minions know there was one floor I had to visit…
I found a PR person who was willing to take me on a tour of the upgrades and give me the details. This place boasts over 800 beds, and it’s not even their largest property!
Her name is Antonia and she’s a doll! We chatted about travel and she told me about the other Generator properties in Europe, including an upgrade in Paris that will house 1000 beds. My mind can’t even consider the laundry requirements. She even let me peek into the new rooms and snap a few shots.
This is one of about twenty two person rooms, most contain four beds divided between two bunks. Each bed has a metal and padlocked storage bin to store beneath it large enough to fit an American sized suitcase (saying something…countrymen, we do not acquit ourselves well when it comes to “packing light” by European standards), and the walls are painted in geometric patterns of bright custard yellow, turquoise, charcoal and cheerful red. Like most hostels, the bathrooms and showers are communal; unlike most hostels I’ve been in, there are multiple on every floor!
The property itself used to be a police building (I just can’t get away from police stations, I must accept my fate!) and so the facade has been preserved to reflect it’s history, but I think they’ve done a good job of upgrading the space. Aside from the night I spent in a haunted castle turned hotel in Ireland, this might be the most fun I’ve ever had in a hostel. Speaking of…
I was down my plus one, since Jeff was in Peterborough, but I popped into the photobooth anyway to grab a souvenir for my beloved corkboard. Add it to the tacos and it was a great night all around, I’m so glad Generator invited me for my first real [re]launch party. I’m quite official these days, ducklings.
Just a hop across Jamaica Road of an evening, and I get to stroll along this. I’m not sorry.
“In the fashion industry, everything goes retro except the prices.”
― Criss Jami
One of my finds during the other weekend’s adventurous rambles was Cheshire Street in Whitechapel. Like other areas that have drawn specific immigrant groups in the past, this part of town has become the home base for a lot of the Bengladeshi immigrants coming to London over the last few decades, and many of the street signs reflect this. Which is initially what caught my eye.
Turning the corner to glance down I spotted a rack or two of vintage wares on the pavement so I started down to have a look. And then I realized that shop after shop after shop, all the way down the street, was dedicated to vintage clothing, accessories, textiles, and lifestyle items. I spent at least an hour just going through them and doing some fantasy shopping for myself and friends.
The shops specialize quite nicely, some deal with everyday clothing and some deal strictly in couture and designer wear which was fun to just rifle through and fantasize over. I was tempted by a cloche style hat from the 1930s but really couldn’t justify it – especially when it felt so warm and bright out. Oh right, and poverty. That too.
This rack is entirely filled with homemade, totally unique simple kitchen aprons that I know for a fact that some of The Girls would simply die over – Amy and Jess, behold your probable future Christmas/birthday present!
The owners were all incredibly friendly. Where some of the designers at markets, understandably, don’t want you to photograph their creations, the vintage shop owners let me snap shots with abandon!
Vintage is not everyone’s thing, and admittedly it’s only mine to a degree (as much as I commit myself to buying quality second hand, some decades’ silhouettes are simply not for me!), but it is a lot of fun to explore and look through. And occasionally you do find a steal which does make the search worth it. Anyone willing for a full on raid of this street on any given weekend, hit me up, I’ll gladly show you my new favorite haunts!
Small Dog Syndrome 
