“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.
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.
“London is on the whole the most possible form of life.”
― Henry James, The Complete Notebooks of Henry James
Katie and Adam are about to jet off to the next stage of his business program in San Francisco, but luckily we get to keep them for a while longer now that they’re back from Paris. Since it had been a few weeks since our last gossip session, weekend Katie and I met up in Camden to explore the lock and markets.
Which turned into food introductions (Katie met bubble teas for the first time, they clearly hit it off).
Which turned into a wander along the canal.
Which turned into a quick hike up Primrose Hill, for one of the best views in London.
Which turned into a long ramble in Regent’s Park…which is going to get it’s own post because it was stunning.
Let me tell you, as far as weather goes, when London gets it right, London gets it right! Spring has officially arrived. Outdoor vendors are selling Pimms by the pitcher, the city denizens are hauling lawn chairs up and down slopes to replenish their Vitamin D stores, and puppies are everywhere.
“Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the ‘Titanic’ who waved off the dessert cart.”
― Erma Bombeck
I mentioned that we took Caitlin to the Southbank Real Food Market, a delicious weekend affair that absolutely everyone should try. It’s not a large event, but it’s dang impressive.
We wandered through stalls looking for something to tempt each of us. Jeff, who lived in South Korea for a couple of years, gave into his curiosity at Koritto and Caitlin was swayed by the aromatic siren call of fresh pasta, but something altogether more involved moved me.
Roasted duck meat, flavored with duck crackling, topped with blue cheese and truffle honey mixed together as they melted on the grill, on a bed of rocket, with a homemade horseradish spread. That picture above is purposefully floaty and vague to better imply the gourmand deliciousness of that concoction. All minions crashing at our flat in the near future will be summarily marched to the South Bank and obliged to ingest.
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
― Elbert Hubbard
Future bestselling YA author, friend of the blog, and buddy IRL Caitlin came into town Wednesday and frankly, it was a nonstop adventure. Caitlin is married to one of Jeff’s old college flatmates who now works for the NBA in China – we know such interesting people! Terry, the flatmate in question, was at a basketball conference in Monaco (his life is such a trial), so after spending some time in Paris, Caitlin took a train north to visit us. We probably went overboard in the entertaining, but she was our first visitor in London so we naturally had to put out all the stops. Which included:
Food (Holy mother of chocolate, so much food!)
An exhibit on the Cheapside Hoard – a staggering amount of Elizabethan jewelry that was buried and abandoned.
Sightseeing around London
Hitting up the West End for, count ’em, two shows
The Tate Modern
Fantasy shopping
The Southbank Center’s Real Food Market (like I said, lots of food)
Waterloo Book Market
Markets
The National Gallery
Parks
Wandering in Soho
John Snow’s cholera pump (she was a public health major)
and a small taste of the London Marathon (mostly the crowds)
The gastronomic highlight was the hours we spent lingering over an afternoon tea at Liberty talking history, culture, tales of university days, exchanging expat life stories, and encouraging one another in our writing pursuits.
And after the multiple hours spent digesting this, we hopped straight over to Burger and Co. since the caressing taste of ground beef hadn’t crossed her lips in months and this was a situation that had to be rectified immediately. Then we dashed to the theatre. Which was frankly the tone of her entire visit.
Sometimes it’s just so relaxing and wonderful to talk to a person who gets what’s going on in your life without a lot of context. She can grumble over issues with her flat (and I can commiserate), while I confess my troubles with some of my novel plots (and she can laugh and provide much needed perspective. She recommends books, I recommend theatre, we fit in both. She’s seriously the perfect guest and we were so lucky she came up to crash on our (newly purchased just for the occasion) air mattress to inaugurate our guest bedroom (read: living room minus the coffee table).
I’m hugely lucky to know so many interesting, marvelous people, scattered across the globe but still wonderfully accessible via email, Skype, and letters. And visits! Here’s hoping we can get to China in the next few years to return this stellar one.
“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!
“You will respect mah authori-tay!”
– Cartman, South Park
Respect the hair, people. Man and beast alike.
“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.”
― Orson Welles
The Brick Lane Market, which is just around the corner from Spitalfields Market and bleeds into a bunch of other less official markets (as previously discussed) is stuffed with good things. But when I convinced Jeff to go wandering with me the other weekend, we spent an inordinate amount of time surveying the food options. This is partly because Jeff’s metabolism is a ridiculous thing that requires (no exaggerated, by the way, doctors confirmed) nearly four times as many calories as me a day to just maintain his weight. And also because there were free samples at every turn.
With that, I present to you the fascinating, and mouthwatering, cross section of global cuisine we taste tested.
Hungry? Come visit. I know where the good food lives.
“I dream my painting and I paint my dream.”
― Vincent van Gogh
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed in the Louvre, but I find it’s the proximity that really throws one off balance. For example, in one of the many French galleries hangs this self-portrait by the artist with a couple of his masterworks hinted at behind him.
Of course, the you turn around in the gallery and on the opposite wall…
Paris, you are spoilt!
Small Dog Syndrome 
