Monica and I had wanted to see a ballet, but Covent Garden is showing "La Fille mal Gardee", which we weren't interested in (why aren't they ever playing "Swan Lake" or "Giselle"?), so Neil suggested Sadler's Wells, and we bought tickets to a ballet version of "Madame Butterfly" for next Wednesday.
Later in the morning, Neil and Geraldine drove us to Portobello Market in Notting Hill. The homes in Notting Hill are very distinctly coloured in pastel shades - quite unique. It's apparently a relatively high-income and low-income area all in one; it has a high break & entry rate, and beware of pickpockets! The pickpockets probably come out on the weekend, since there are vendors set up all in tents and tables all along Portobello Street, with crowds of people browsing. I elbowed everyone I could, just to be on the safe side.
We parked the car on one of the side streets a few blocks away. Cath Kidson, the first store that we stepped into, was selling bars of soap for £7, and many cute, kitschy items at way high prices. Obviously, made no purchases there. In the dress shop Monica wanted to look at, the dress was £233, and the shoes £140. No purchases. (Perhaps we'd better head to Cheapside...) We stopped for lunch at Mike's Place. I had Bangers & Mash (it seemed like the thing to do). It was DIVINE. A mountain of mashed potatoes, topped with sausages, onions, and lots of gravy. Yum! The guy next to us ordered Black Pudding, which looks more like black salami - I don't know why it's called pudding.
After lunch, we split up with Neil and Geraldine, as they had to leave earlier since Geraldine was going to a party this evening. We continued on, away from the shops and into the street market. Everything was for sale. There were vendors of fruit and veggies, souvenirs, clothing, music, glass and silver and trinkets. I bought a pink skirt for £30 - Monica says redheads can't wear pink, but I'm not a real redhead, so I think it's okay. :-)
It had started to drizzle while we were walking along the street, but then it really started to rain, so we ducked into a covered market square, which was packed with other people who had the same idea. You could hardly turn around. We walked for a while, then gave up and turned back to head towards the tube stop. Lots of rain now. My runners began to squeak. As we walk up Portobello, the wares are getting progressively high-end, but now there's enough rain that even the street vendors are packing it in. I look mournfully at all of the antique silver that I can't afford anyway.
We follow the crowd of brollies (umbrellas!) up the streets to the Notting Hill Gate tube station. Tube service is apparently a little unreliable on weekends, and my ticket gave me problems at the entry. Monica suggests we go to the Victoria & Albert museum - we haven't been there yet, and had planned to do museums on rainy days. Unfortunately, we haven't brought our London A-Z map book, or a tourist book; we just have a map of Central London, and apparently the V&A isn't there. Doh! Monica guesses the Kensington tube stop, which is right near the bottom of our incomplete map. At Kensington, I find once again that my tube pass doesn't work and I have to talk to a guard - this is going to be a recurring problem. Kensington is obviously an upscale stop, with much nicer stores outside the tube stop, but no hint of the V&A on the map.
We go back inside the tube station - it's not just my pass that's having problems, but many many people - and Monica finally asks someone on the tube, who tells us that we need to exit at South Kensington station. When we get there, there's a subway (an underground passage) that will take us past several museums so that we don't have to walk in the rain.
At the V&A, I discover I can take photos "with or without a flash". I am pleased, but exceedingly puzzled by their logic. It's a museum, isn't it? You could take pictures anywhere in Paris, but only without a flash - here, it seems you can't take pictures anywhere inside, but then they randomly let you take flash photos inside a museum? Weird.
The V&A is a museum of decorative arts - meaning less paintings, more sculpture, furniture, clothing, etc. We walked through a display of art from 1500-1600, some rooms of sculpture, and an amazing display of cast Medieval and Italian art that was truly monumental in scale (wait til you see the pictures!). There are also some fun interactive exhibits. True, those interactive exhibits might be intended for the kids, but aren't we all young at heart? Monica designed her own fabric prints and a monogram crest and tried to assemble a picture frame. I tried on a hoop skirt (court variety - it gave me 100-inch hips), and several other people were attempting to assemble a chair from wooden dowels.
Then, over the PA system, they make an announcement that the museum is closing in 5 minutes. Not only is 5:45 a weird closing time, why wouldn't you give a 15-minute warning? As it is, there is mass confusion as everyone tries to find their way out, or (in our case) back to the coat check to retrieve our coats. "Can't go that way," says Brit 1. "The coat check is over there," says Brit 2. "This way is closed - you have to go back," says Brit 3. I ask Brit 4 at the Information Desk about the now-inaccessible coat check, and she says, "They'll bring it round to the front coat check; you'll have to wait." Brit 5 appears with the coats and bags from the other coat check. He is annoyed. "Next time, remember that I don't have time to deliver your coats." Um, actually, it looks like you do. And why don't you shine my shoes while you're at it? By the way, have you ever considered that since you have a five-storey building, a 15-MINUTE warning might be handy? I say - they're a wee bit rude at the V&A! Monica threatens to write a scathing letter of protest to the Ham&High (Neil and Geraldine's neighbourhood paper). In fact, Neil and Geraldine had previously been surprised that we'd met so many friendly people - now they feel that things are back to normal and we're having a proper London experience.
So, along with a thousand other people, we are thrown out of the V&A into the cold rain with - at last! - the coats on our backs, which was all we wanted in the first place. Thanks ever so, Mr. Surly Coat Fetcher.
Just around the corner is Brompton Oratory, where mass is being held at 6 p.m., which is now in 5 minutes. It's a very large church, built with an elaborate Italianate interior, and lots of baroque decorations. Very large dome overhead, but oddly, no stained glass. There's a pipe organ and a boys choir, with all of them dressed in the traditional red and white robes. Very beautiful singing. Apparently, it was built in 1880, the first large Catholic church built in London since the Reformation.
Afterwards, it's back out into the rain. We're walking down the street, looking for the theatres, when suddenly - Harrods! And it's open until 8 p.m. Its staff is friendlier than the V&A, and it has even more interactive exhibits! Apparently, Harrod's "isn't as good as it used to be." I can't imagine what it used to be. We try to blend in. It's hard to be posh when your runners are squeaking wet. Squeek-squoosh...
There's a spectacular foyer with Egyptian decor. At one of the entrances is the (in)famous statue of Diana and Dodi. We walked through the antiques departments, chandeliers, a pet department with - what else? - Corgis! I contemplate buying Charlotte a dog sweater from Harrods. Contemplation ends when I see the £45 price tag. Sorry, Charlotte! Monica looks at the saunas for sale, thinks she'd like to have one, although shipping costs would be prohibitive. Plus, not that much money in the wallet!
On the main level, they had a great take-away food market - Monica and I browsed for a while, and I bought some Indian food to take home. Before leaving, we also went through the chocolate section, where there were many many chocolates, and marzipan fruits. We exited to the nearest tube stop, which was Knightsbridge, and which was inconveniently closed. Typical - we're back to walking in the rain.
But let's pause for a moment, and think of all the poor people who aren't able to get out of the rain. Like that poor forlorn man, patrolling the lawn chairs in rainy St. James's Park. Just cause it's raining doesn't mean he can leave his post. What if someone sits in a soggy chair without paying?! (That guy has the Worst. Job. Ever.)
Anyway, enough about him. More about us: Pausing at a bus stop map, we tried to find the nearest tube stop - a woman took pity on us and pointed us in the right direction, and then was amazed that we weren't going to take a bus to the tube stop - "What!? You're going to walk it?"
We finally find the South Kensington tube stop. We catch the oldest train known to Londoners - I think it was built back in Oliver Cromwell's day, and it is run by a million royal hamsters running on treadmills inside. Or not. But the train was certainly squeaky enough (squeakier than my runners)! We changed back to the good old reliable Jubilee line. Nevertheless, it got us back to West Hampstead. At the station, the exit gates were all wide open - guess they'd been having system-wide problems with the passes.
Anyway, after the surprisingly long winding walk down Sumatra Road (it kind of runs along the perimeter of the neighbourhood), we're finally back home. Yay! I eat my food from Harrods, and some British Easter Creme Eggs I've discovered, and promptly gain 2 stone. Doh!
Later in the morning, Neil and Geraldine drove us to Portobello Market in Notting Hill. The homes in Notting Hill are very distinctly coloured in pastel shades - quite unique. It's apparently a relatively high-income and low-income area all in one; it has a high break & entry rate, and beware of pickpockets! The pickpockets probably come out on the weekend, since there are vendors set up all in tents and tables all along Portobello Street, with crowds of people browsing. I elbowed everyone I could, just to be on the safe side.
We parked the car on one of the side streets a few blocks away. Cath Kidson, the first store that we stepped into, was selling bars of soap for £7, and many cute, kitschy items at way high prices. Obviously, made no purchases there. In the dress shop Monica wanted to look at, the dress was £233, and the shoes £140. No purchases. (Perhaps we'd better head to Cheapside...) We stopped for lunch at Mike's Place. I had Bangers & Mash (it seemed like the thing to do). It was DIVINE. A mountain of mashed potatoes, topped with sausages, onions, and lots of gravy. Yum! The guy next to us ordered Black Pudding, which looks more like black salami - I don't know why it's called pudding.
After lunch, we split up with Neil and Geraldine, as they had to leave earlier since Geraldine was going to a party this evening. We continued on, away from the shops and into the street market. Everything was for sale. There were vendors of fruit and veggies, souvenirs, clothing, music, glass and silver and trinkets. I bought a pink skirt for £30 - Monica says redheads can't wear pink, but I'm not a real redhead, so I think it's okay. :-)
It had started to drizzle while we were walking along the street, but then it really started to rain, so we ducked into a covered market square, which was packed with other people who had the same idea. You could hardly turn around. We walked for a while, then gave up and turned back to head towards the tube stop. Lots of rain now. My runners began to squeak. As we walk up Portobello, the wares are getting progressively high-end, but now there's enough rain that even the street vendors are packing it in. I look mournfully at all of the antique silver that I can't afford anyway.
We follow the crowd of brollies (umbrellas!) up the streets to the Notting Hill Gate tube station. Tube service is apparently a little unreliable on weekends, and my ticket gave me problems at the entry. Monica suggests we go to the Victoria & Albert museum - we haven't been there yet, and had planned to do museums on rainy days. Unfortunately, we haven't brought our London A-Z map book, or a tourist book; we just have a map of Central London, and apparently the V&A isn't there. Doh! Monica guesses the Kensington tube stop, which is right near the bottom of our incomplete map. At Kensington, I find once again that my tube pass doesn't work and I have to talk to a guard - this is going to be a recurring problem. Kensington is obviously an upscale stop, with much nicer stores outside the tube stop, but no hint of the V&A on the map.
We go back inside the tube station - it's not just my pass that's having problems, but many many people - and Monica finally asks someone on the tube, who tells us that we need to exit at South Kensington station. When we get there, there's a subway (an underground passage) that will take us past several museums so that we don't have to walk in the rain.
At the V&A, I discover I can take photos "with or without a flash". I am pleased, but exceedingly puzzled by their logic. It's a museum, isn't it? You could take pictures anywhere in Paris, but only without a flash - here, it seems you can't take pictures anywhere inside, but then they randomly let you take flash photos inside a museum? Weird.
The V&A is a museum of decorative arts - meaning less paintings, more sculpture, furniture, clothing, etc. We walked through a display of art from 1500-1600, some rooms of sculpture, and an amazing display of cast Medieval and Italian art that was truly monumental in scale (wait til you see the pictures!). There are also some fun interactive exhibits. True, those interactive exhibits might be intended for the kids, but aren't we all young at heart? Monica designed her own fabric prints and a monogram crest and tried to assemble a picture frame. I tried on a hoop skirt (court variety - it gave me 100-inch hips), and several other people were attempting to assemble a chair from wooden dowels.
Then, over the PA system, they make an announcement that the museum is closing in 5 minutes. Not only is 5:45 a weird closing time, why wouldn't you give a 15-minute warning? As it is, there is mass confusion as everyone tries to find their way out, or (in our case) back to the coat check to retrieve our coats. "Can't go that way," says Brit 1. "The coat check is over there," says Brit 2. "This way is closed - you have to go back," says Brit 3. I ask Brit 4 at the Information Desk about the now-inaccessible coat check, and she says, "They'll bring it round to the front coat check; you'll have to wait." Brit 5 appears with the coats and bags from the other coat check. He is annoyed. "Next time, remember that I don't have time to deliver your coats." Um, actually, it looks like you do. And why don't you shine my shoes while you're at it? By the way, have you ever considered that since you have a five-storey building, a 15-MINUTE warning might be handy? I say - they're a wee bit rude at the V&A! Monica threatens to write a scathing letter of protest to the Ham&High (Neil and Geraldine's neighbourhood paper). In fact, Neil and Geraldine had previously been surprised that we'd met so many friendly people - now they feel that things are back to normal and we're having a proper London experience.
So, along with a thousand other people, we are thrown out of the V&A into the cold rain with - at last! - the coats on our backs, which was all we wanted in the first place. Thanks ever so, Mr. Surly Coat Fetcher.
Just around the corner is Brompton Oratory, where mass is being held at 6 p.m., which is now in 5 minutes. It's a very large church, built with an elaborate Italianate interior, and lots of baroque decorations. Very large dome overhead, but oddly, no stained glass. There's a pipe organ and a boys choir, with all of them dressed in the traditional red and white robes. Very beautiful singing. Apparently, it was built in 1880, the first large Catholic church built in London since the Reformation.
Afterwards, it's back out into the rain. We're walking down the street, looking for the theatres, when suddenly - Harrods! And it's open until 8 p.m. Its staff is friendlier than the V&A, and it has even more interactive exhibits! Apparently, Harrod's "isn't as good as it used to be." I can't imagine what it used to be. We try to blend in. It's hard to be posh when your runners are squeaking wet. Squeek-squoosh...
There's a spectacular foyer with Egyptian decor. At one of the entrances is the (in)famous statue of Diana and Dodi. We walked through the antiques departments, chandeliers, a pet department with - what else? - Corgis! I contemplate buying Charlotte a dog sweater from Harrods. Contemplation ends when I see the £45 price tag. Sorry, Charlotte! Monica looks at the saunas for sale, thinks she'd like to have one, although shipping costs would be prohibitive. Plus, not that much money in the wallet!
On the main level, they had a great take-away food market - Monica and I browsed for a while, and I bought some Indian food to take home. Before leaving, we also went through the chocolate section, where there were many many chocolates, and marzipan fruits. We exited to the nearest tube stop, which was Knightsbridge, and which was inconveniently closed. Typical - we're back to walking in the rain.
But let's pause for a moment, and think of all the poor people who aren't able to get out of the rain. Like that poor forlorn man, patrolling the lawn chairs in rainy St. James's Park. Just cause it's raining doesn't mean he can leave his post. What if someone sits in a soggy chair without paying?! (That guy has the Worst. Job. Ever.)
Anyway, enough about him. More about us: Pausing at a bus stop map, we tried to find the nearest tube stop - a woman took pity on us and pointed us in the right direction, and then was amazed that we weren't going to take a bus to the tube stop - "What!? You're going to walk it?"
We finally find the South Kensington tube stop. We catch the oldest train known to Londoners - I think it was built back in Oliver Cromwell's day, and it is run by a million royal hamsters running on treadmills inside. Or not. But the train was certainly squeaky enough (squeakier than my runners)! We changed back to the good old reliable Jubilee line. Nevertheless, it got us back to West Hampstead. At the station, the exit gates were all wide open - guess they'd been having system-wide problems with the passes.
Anyway, after the surprisingly long winding walk down Sumatra Road (it kind of runs along the perimeter of the neighbourhood), we're finally back home. Yay! I eat my food from Harrods, and some British Easter Creme Eggs I've discovered, and promptly gain 2 stone. Doh!
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