“I smell of rain, the ocean, and crêpes with lemon.” – Les chansons d’amour (2007)
Just around the corner from the South Kensington tube station on Exhibition Road is a tiny little gem of a restaurant, the Kensington Crêperie.
As you may have guessed the specialize in crêpes, and all of them are delicious. They also have specialty drinks (may I personally recommend the mint lemonade?) and in house made ice creams.
Most of the seating is outdoors, and lucky for us the weather was lovely.
The crêpes can be made with different flours, there are sweet and savory crêpes than work for every meal, and the ingredients are always fresh.
J., who needs to be fed every couple of hours, had already snagged his second or third meal of the day, and only needed a slight treat to get him through One Man Two Guvnors, so he had a Crêpes Suzette. I was famished and got a Tartiflette Galette, stuffed with potatoes, bacon, cheeses, and a cream, onion, and white wine sauce. Hearty and delicious!
Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner is served!
The Crêperie is open seven days a week, minus the major winter holidays, and often will stay open until midnight if people are still lining up to buy. The prices are very reasonable (between £3 and £9) and the portions are plenty big enough. The savory crêpes usually contain at least four food groups, so don’t make the mistake of thinking this is just a place for a light brunch, you can get a lovely meal here and bask in the general splendor of one of London’s priciest and prettiest areas.
The Natural History Museum, the V&A, Kensington High Street (with fabulous shopping), Kensington Palace, the Royal Albert Hall, and Hyde Park are all just a stroll away, and you’re only a few tube stops from most of the major sites in London. So, no excuses darlings.
“The most wonderful thing in life is to be delirious and the most wonderful kind of delirium is being in love. In the morning mist, hazy and amorous, London was delirious. London squinted as it floated along, milky pink, without caring where it was going.” ― Yevgeny Zamyatin, Islanders And, The Fisher Of Men
We made it out of bed in surprisingly good time and hotfooted it down to Houghton Street to pick up our tickets for the graduation ceremony. And then, by damn it was time to shop!
We shopped around Leicester Square (more on that later) and Piccadilly, and bought tickets to the shows we wanted to see. Because if you’re in London, darlings you must see some shows. Minions failing to do so will be sacked.
We went to the Natural History Museum in Kensington, just down the road from the Victoria and Albert Museum which we decided to skip since we’ve both been there. The Smithosonian in D.C. is, I think, superior to the NHM but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t stuffed with interesting things. Some really fantastic fossils in particular!
Currently the main exhibit is Animal Inside Out, which is like the Bodies exhibit that made the tours a few years ago. Animals are put through a plastination process to show the various functions of the body. It’s weird enough without being gruesome to keep kids interested, and plenty fascinating for everyone else. Its not a free exhibit, but since the rest of the museum is, it’s well worth checking out. Photos not allowed, alas!
Credit where credit is due, though. The exterior beats the Smithsonian into the ground. This is only one wing.This fossil was discovered by Lyme Regis by Mary Anning, an early fossil hunter who (despite being female in Victorian England) contributed much of the founding work of paleontology. Her work was also key to Darwin and other evolutionary theorists.*
After the museum, I took J. to one of my favorite eateries in Kensington, but you’ll have to wait to hear more about that later. The suspense, kittens!
Our repast devoured we collected our shopping finds and made our way to the West End to see One Man Two Guvnors at the Royal Haymarket Theatre. This comedy first came to our attention last Autumn when we were getting J. settled for school because the lead role was played by James Corden (who might be J.’s favorite guest star on Dr. Who ever). Sadly he’s no longer in the role, but Owain Arthur was fantastic!
Most London theatres are magnificent, Georgian, Victorian, and Edwardian illusions. They always seem unbelievably small when you first walk into them, the stairs are dangerously narrow, the wooden seats are crammed in tight with no leg room at all… all of which you instantly forget the moment the curtain rises.
It was uproariously funny, a classic British sort of comedy mixed coerced audience participation, continual breaking of the fourth wall in hilarious ways, a live band, and screaming laughter all around. See it if you get the chance, our sides hurt coming out of the theatre!
The Haymarket Theatre is the third oldest theatre still operating in London, and has been around since 1720, though the current building and location date from the 1820s. It’s also responsible for introducing the matinee performance. Making tickets cheaper since 1873!
There are lots of ticketing sales booths, particularly around Leicester Square, but they aren’t always the best places to get tickets. Often the theatres offer student discounts, and like I said matinee tickets are a fabulous way to see a show for less (and to leave your evenings free for other shows, dining, or general goofing off). There are also a plethora of websites that do pop up deals (here’s a good one). Bottom line, to see a show in London, do your research. Know what you’re interested in seeing and shop around in person (seriously, take the time to compare prices at the theatres, sales booths, etc.) and online.
“I know all about you. You’re the people waiting on the shoreline with the warm towels and the hot chocolate after the woman swims the English Channel.” – Gwen Moore
Just across the street from the Inns of Court on Fleet Street is a small, unassuming coffee and tea shop that you must visit if you get the chance. Modern though it is, it’s like most London shops in that while the innards have changed, the space allocated to them is straight out of the Middle Ages – tiny. Good things, as our mottos goes, come in small packages, ducklings.
Scrumptious eats.
You can buy proper tea here, loose leaf and brewed, and they have lots of their own combinations to choose from as well as a few private tea companies’ offerings.
Drink Me.
The real treat though is the hot chocolate. European hot chocolate is a totally different animal than the processed, sugar heavy packeted stuff you get in the States. It’s usually made with real chocolate pieces to start, melted into milk and cream. In Belgium I never had a pot of chocolate that I didn’t have sweeten myself with real sugar, and most prefer a minimum thereof. You can find plenty of sugary, processed brews if that’s what gets you through the day, but everyone should have real hot chocolate at some point. And if you can have it in London, so much the better! At Get Coffee, you can choose your degree of cocoa saturation. J. and I chose the 72% dark chocolate. And it was magnificent.
Seriously. If you’re in town, try it. You’ll thank me later.
“I don’t know what London’s coming to — the higher the buildings the lower the morals.” ― Noël Coward, Collected Sketches and Lyrics
This week the Small Dog team brings you tales of travel, tips for tourists, personal recommendations, show reviews, and lots of pictures of food from our sojourn in London. Today, our first day in town:
We arrived in the morning and determined to stay up all day, all the better to get on a new sleep cycle, my dear. Luckily, J. lived just off the Piccadilly Line, which conveniently runs all the way to Heathrow airport, so when we arrived we just hopped on the tube. After dropping everything off at his place, we jumped back on and headed into central London.
And I managed to take pictures, kittens! No one is more surprised than me (although looking through them I’m realizing how many more I should have taken). I’ll never be a photographer.
Our first stop was the Soane Museum which is mere minutes away from LSE and is just one of the hundreds of small, less well known museums in the city. The entire thing is the private collection of Sir John Soane – one of those glorious Englishmen who stockpiled things that interested him! Pictures were prohibited, alas, but if you’re ever in town, go and see it. It’s completely free (but I encourage you to donate any spare change in your pockets to it’s maintenance, as it survives entirely on such charity and government grants), and they only let in small parties at a time.
The whole thing is a magnificent hodgepodge of antiquities: busts, chunks of Grecian reliefs, medieval figurines, the pure alabaster sarcophagus of Seti I, Hogarth’s original Rake’s Progress paintings, and (most hilariously of all), a mausoleum to his wife’s dog with the inscription, “Alas, poor Fanny!”
A print from 1864 showing the sarcophagus room surrounded by other antiquities, all of which are still in the exact same arrangement today. Minus the people in the funny clothes (although it must be said that some tourists are upholding tradition on that account…)*
Our next stop was St. Paul’s Cathedral since J. had never been there. There’s been a church on this site for over a thousand years, and this is only the latest incarnation. Courtesy of Sir Christopher Wren after the Great Fire, it’s massive. At J.’s insistence, we climbed to the top of thing (heavily jet lagged, please recall), going up more stairs and through narrow passages than I could count. If you’re up to the physical challenge, it’s well worth the views – both of the surrounding city, and to the cathedral floor several hundred feet below. J. smacked his head on a few low Restorationist ceilings, clearly not meant for six foot tourists, but other than that, no casualties.
He insisted on documenting me, sans makeup and heavily jetlagged. Jerk.
The views are incredible. You can take in all the major tourist traps in one go if you walk all the way around the top of the dome:
The Houses of Parliament and the London Eye…The Tower of London and Tower Bridge…and Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.
After climbing the heights, we sunk to the depths and went through the crypts, which are equally interesting for any history nerd. Both Wellington and Nelson are buried there, as well as many other great British figures.
St. Paul’s isn’t free if you’re doing the tourist bit: it’s £15 for an adult and £5 for a child (although if any of you are going to be in town for the summer, the Olympics seem to be causing a rate lowering!), but it’s well worth the money. You get an audio/video guide with lots of information on the art, history, construction, and cool stories about the cathedral’s past. It’s got Queen Victoria, surviving the London Blitz, and up through Charles and Di’s marriage, if that’s your cup of tea. There are frequent guest performances from choirs that perform during the tourist hours free of charge, one was there when we were visiting, so we plunked down in some seats and enjoyed the show.
If you’d like to go for free, they don’t charge admission for worship services and you can enjoy Evensong for free as well, but you won’t get to wander around the church or see the sights when it’s functioning in its ecclesiastical capacities. Which is as it should be, quite frankly.
After that, thoroughly exhausted, we stumbled home and collapsed into a single person bed – which made sleeping a ridiculous complicated affair, but hey, we like cuddling.
*The sarcophagus of Seti I at Sir John Soane’s Museum, Illustrated London News, 1864 (obtained from Wikipedia).
** All other photos are my own
“Henry, I’m tired.” “Sleep then.” – The Lion in Winter
I can’t talk about Saturday, kittens. Let’s just say the travel gods are fickle and leave it at that.
J. and I spent yesterday, our anniversary, in and out of fogs. Up late packing, up early to the airport left us in quite a state. We both fell into unplanned naps throughout the afternoon, watched some movies, and I taught J. how to play Rummy and he trounced me at it. Romantic? Not particularly. We’re delaying our celebration until we’re in London in a week.
Sidenote: a week! Life needs to slow down, I’m tired!
Also, the weather gods seem to be in a mood. We need to throw a virgin into a volcano or something.
“For Children: You will need to know the difference between Friday and a fried egg. It’s quite a simple difference, but an important one. Friday comes at the end of the week, whereas a fried egg comes out of a chicken. Like most things, of course, it isn’t quite that simple. The fried egg isn’t properly a fried egg until it’s been put in a frying pan and fried. This is something you wouldn’t do to a Friday, of course, though you might do it on a Friday. You can also fry eggs on a Thursday, if you like, or on a cooker. It’s all rather complicated, but it makes a kind of sense if you think about it for a while.” – Douglas Adams
Last week was no good, pumpkins, my hormones went all crazy and I ate copious amount of terribly bad for me food. I’ve been trying to get back on track this week and it hasn’t been any fun. Food/Exercise morality is hateful.
Salad?!
But then – then! On Monday J. got a job offer in London! And if you think I’m complaining about anything for weeks to come, you’re nuts. Here are your links, kittens! I’ll be spending the weekend celebrating my birthday (!), checking in on the Queen’s Jubilee, checking out a new exhibit at the Museum of Art (courtesy of the V&A, so you know I have to go), and being a bit lazy. How about you?
I burst into hysterical giggles checking these out.
If you’re celebrating the Jubilee with a G&T and dread a watery cocktail bringing you down, or just want your lemonade to look extra fancy at the next neighborhood barbeque, I think these oversize ice cube trays are nifty!
Very scary and upsetting, not for the faint hearted. (On a less somber and highly inappropriate note, I’m pretty sure this is how the zombie apocalypse starts…)
Marie’s style is preppy, Kiri’s is French country, Nora’s is pure mid-century American. My decorating tastes (inherited directly and unadulterated from my mum) are hardwood floors in houses stuffed to the brim with antiques and treasures from world travels, interspersed with trendy art that can be altered to fit the times. There is probably no place for this in my Someday House. Which means I may have to undergo a complete style makeover to accommodate it.
I have seen these fabulous riffs on vintage floating around the internet for months and I had no idea a genius company was behind it. I have presents for the girls covered for years off of this site! I’m craving this one in particular – because I am pretty sure this phrase has crossed the lips of of myself and everyone I have every considered to be a true friend.
Tumblr of the week: for my fellow expats, travelers, gypsy souls, or generally lost friends. And for those of you who just love to travel.
I suffer from pasta portion control. Therefore, this thingy is fantastic.
More kitchen stuff! I am not prepared to pay the money for these, but the tiny organizer in me thinks these would save a lot of space.
Scary! Women: know your finances! I’ll the the first to admit that J. does most of the financial research in our family (he’s an accountant after all), but without trying to sound like an idiot or helpless female, he takes time to explain financial concepts to me if I don’t understand them well. I also try to educate myself about the economic state of the world, country, and my family. He may be the financial wizard, but there isn’t a single financial decision made that we don’t talk about and come to an agreement on – from food budgets to student loans. Lady minions – this is important!
Spring is nearly over, but I think we can all agree that these brings out the country gentry in all of us, right?
Recipe to try (and one of the cuter ex-pat blogs out there).
“Gentlemen never wear brown in London.” – Lord Curzon
I’m neglecting you, darlings, but it’s an unaccountably busy Thursday. So here’s some pictures of the weather in London, which is also rather unaccountable in that it’s freezing cold, courtesy of J.. Remember, we are not jealous or sad, we are very proud of him. Aren’t we, kittens?
The London House (I shall continue to refer to this shared student hovel as a grand town residence for the sheer snobbish fun of it).A rather dashing gentleman at Piccadilly Circus.
“A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.”
~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, 1966
Things I really miss about my husband (all of the time, but particularly this week):
1. How buddy buddy we are in public and how sickeningly cute he is in private. One of my best memories of him is from the first year of our marriage. It was the middle of the night and he woke up for some reason and got out of bed which woke me as well. But thinking I was still asleep, he leaned over and kissed me on the nose. Just because.
2. We had a really great household system: I do laundry he does dishes. I hate dishes, loathe them with an intensity usually reserved for cockroaches and split pea soup. With him gone, I am reduced to doing my own dishes, which is a hateful nightly event.
3. How easy it was to talk to my best friend about my day and hear about his. We schedule Skype dates and email and chat regularly throughout the day, but it’s not as satisfying as our conversations during car ride home after work..
4. Cuddling. We are shameless cuddlers. We cuddle on the couch, going to sleep, watching movies, talking, you name it. The most satisfying feeling in the world is his arms around me, and not having it for months at at time makes me excessively grouchy.
5. Believe it or not, listening to or watching sports with him, it’s ridiculously funny to hear my normally calm, reserved guy randomly exploding with, “C’mon!” “He was in!” “Travel? TRAVEL?!”
6. His quiet steadiness. Sometimes I feel like the family tornado, constantly doing something, running, planning, doing until I burn out and collapse on the sofa. Which is usually when he steps in with a grin and calmly handles whatever it was that seemed so overwhelming a mere five minutes ago. No doubt this trait will feature more heavily when we finally decide to spawn.
7. Doing things with him. We are really good about indulging one another’s interests and likes. I bought him tickets to his favorite team for his birthday one year, even though I couldn’t care less about basketball. He returned the favor by taking me to the opera. I had Korean food for the first time with him, he went to England for the first time with me. We’re far more adventurous together than apart.
8. How helpful he is. Since he’s been gone it seems like the flat has decided to show it’s age and start to go to pieces. Cupboards have needed to be fixed, furnaces have needed tweaking, faucets refuse to shut off, oven handles have come undone…the list goes on. Margot’s charming gentleman caller (Wrench) has been an absolute wunderkind and helped out whenever he visits, but keeping up with a house is a full time job. Largely doing it by myself is rotten.
9. Dates. I have no problem going to movies or restaurants by myself, my alone time is valuable and relaxing to me, but there’s no question that dinner with him is ten times better than dinner without him.
10. His scent. His cologne, which I love, is not very powerful, but it lingers. It still haunts his side of the closet, which packs a powerful punch of nostalgia whenever I open it. I miss smelling it every day.
No doubt about it, minions, separation sucks. On the plus side, he’s coming to stay for a few weeks sometime in March or April. On the plusser side, less than six months and we’re done with school and on to the next adventure!
“Seriously. I had to schedule a breakdown, and then I had to cut it short!” – C.
Minions, I have neglected you. But last Friday the world sort of stopped. I was stressed, I was tired, I was anxious, I was overwhelmed, and I literally worried myself sick. I went home early on Friday and spent some time in bed.
Of course, I had only a limited amount of time to recover from the vapors because I had stuff to do. Saturday I had a wedding (in addition to Venice’s birthday) and errands to run, Sunday was dinner at my godparents’ house (a 4 hour event at least) after which I had to dash home and make appetizers for… Monday after work, Sadie and Pieter had a Honey Do couples shower. Classic me, I made it all the way to GS’s house before I realized I’d forgotten the food in my fridge.
But health, good-humor, and cheerfulness have begun to return, and so, updates. Margot landed a full time teaching job (no small prize in this economy), Marie’s husband also got a job back East, Hambone had her baby boy, my sister-in-law had a dry run for her future lung transplant and got an emergency plan in place (still scary, but less so now), Dad, Venice, and J. all got older, and J. is going to Les Miserables tonight, staring Alfie Boe.
You know, the one who managed to stand out among these guys:
Small Dog Syndrome 