Travels – Kristine – Page 11

A Couple In England – Google Maps

Holy crow, am I tired! I have been walking the length and breadth of London and I haven’t even gotten there yet. I’m using Google maps streetview. Do you know about this invention? I knew that it existed, but have never used it so extensively, nor so amusingly, before. I’ve been plotting our every move through the streets of Town in preparation for our visit in December. And in the wake of doing so, I’ve been making some minor adjustments to our route(s).

When Victoria and I are in London together, we give nary a thought to the amount of walking we do on any given day. We walked miles the last time we were there, given that it was Open Garden Squares week and we were determined to see a good many of them. Alas, my Husband is not a big walker. Thus, it was a good thing that I used Google streetview to plot the extensive, nay exhaustive, itinerary I’d planned for us. It’s a fairly good walk from Half Moon Street, where our hotel is located, to Speaker’s Corner, where we’ll be visiting Winter Wonderland on Friday night. And I don’t think the Husband would appreciate walking from our hotel to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street. A nicely timed stroll to Apsley House or the Guards Museum in Birdcage Walk may just be doable . . . . .

Having had my memory of London walks refreshed, I began to second guess the daily itineraries I’d sketched for our time in Bath. The Holburne Museum is just a street away from our hotel, and the Abbey is a walkable distance, as well. Just over the Bridge, in fact. However, they must have moved the Royal Crescent and the Fashion Museum since I was there last, as they are both now considerably removed from our neighborhood, a fact that escaped me when I was making our plans. I have since made some minor adjustments to our daily itineraries in both London and Bath, many of which involved the inclusion of taxi cabs, and am now fairly certain that our marriage will survive the trip.

In case you need your memory of British places refreshed, or if you simply want to take a stroll through your favorite city, do try Google Maps streetview – and happy walking!

A Couple In England – Half Moon Street

I try to stay in a different part of London each time I visit. So far, I’ve stayed in various hotels in Victoria, Bayswater and Kensington. This time over, I’ve opted to stay in Mayfair, more precisely in Half Moon Street, located between Piccadilly and Curzon Street. According to Christopher Hibbert’s London Encyclopedia, Half Moon Street took its name from a public house which stood on the corner of Piccadilly. The street backs onto Shepherd’s Market and is literally around the corner from the In and Out Club on Piccadilly, shown below.

In The Handbook of London: Past and Present, Volume 1 by Peter Cunningham, we find the following mentions of HALF MOON STREET, Piccadilly –

“Last Friday evening died Mrs. Winter, who many years kept the Half-Moon Ale-house, in Piccadilly, in which it is Said she acquired near 8000L., which she has left to her poorest relations.”— Gazeteer, Sept. 6th, 1758.

” Yesterday, James Boswell, Esq., arrived from Scotland at his lodgings, in Half Moon Street, Piccadilly.”— Public Advertiser, March 11th, 1768.

While lodging in Half Moon Street in 1768, Boswell entertained Dr. Johnson, Dr. Robertson, Baretti, and other literati. In fact, Half Moon Street lays claim to many literary residents. Pope, the actor, lived at No. 5, and his first wife, the celebrated actress (formerly Miss Young), died at the house on the 18th of June, 1803, aged 26. The celebrated physician, Dr. Samuel Merriman, occupied No. 26 from 1813 to 1825; and John Galt, the novelist, was at No. 29 in 1830. William Hazlitt, the essayist, lodged at No. 40 for a short time. He came from Down Street in 1827, and went to Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, in 1829.

In A Wanderer in London, author Edward Verrall Lucas, tells us –

“In Half Moon Street, named, like many other London streets and omnibus destinations, after a public house, lived for a while such very different contemporaries as Hazlitt, Shelley and Madame d’Arblay. I like the picture of Shelley there a hundred years ago: “There was,” says Hogg in his life of his friend, “a little projecting window in Half Moon Street in which Shelley might be seen from the street all day long, book in hand, with lively gestures and bright eyes; so that Mrs. N. said he wanted only a pan of clear water and a fresh turf to look like some young lady’s lark hanging outside for air and song.”

In addition to Shelley, Fanny Burney, Madame D’Arblay, lived for a time in Half Moon Street. In Literary Landmarks of London, Laurence Hutton writes –

“Madame D’Arblay (moved) to the corner of Piccadilly and Half Moon Street, on the east side of the latter thoroughfare; but the house no longer remains. She died in Lower Grosvenor Street, New Bond Street, in 1840. I remember Madame D’Arblay (Fanny Burney) living on the east side of the street, in the last house overlooking Piccadilly. Her sitting-room was the front room over the shop, then a linendraper’s, now a turner’s, shop.”

In Joyce Hemlow’s biography of Fanny Burney (Oxford 1958) we are told that, “In 1828 Alex, dissatisfied with his accommodation in 11 Bolton Street, persuaded his mother to move to 1 Half Moon Street, where he could have a large and well-lighted study. This dwelling was opposite Green Park and still near the squares that Fanny liked for their walks and fresh air. She was still within half an hour’s summons of the `gracious and beloved Princesses’ and easily accessible to members of the family who happened to come on brief visits to London . . . . . . Marianne Francis used to tell of typical evenings in Half Moon Street with Madame d’Arbvlay talking `in her animated, hand clasping, energetic French way, telling her long curious stories till she was quite hoarse, and dr Mama fast asleep but jumping up every now and then in her sweet way, to fall in with the current of the remarks, answering in her sleep.”

Moving forward in time, we come to a whole host of fictional literary characters who have called the Street home – Algernon Moncrieff’s Half Moon Street flat featured in the first act of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance Of Being Earnest, and Sapper’s Bulldog Drummond resided at 60A Half Moon Street. Personally, the most interesting fictional characters who live in the street are Bertie Wooster and his man, Jeeves. For live there still they must. Perhaps, if I’m vigilant whilst in residence there, I will catch a glimpse of Jeeves on his way back home from a shopping expedition at Berry Brothers. At the very least I may spot Gussie Fink-Nottle or Aunt Agatha. With luck, I’ll be invited round for a martini . . . . . . . .

And finally, since most things on Number One London tend to come back around to the Duke of Wellington, I’ll mention that Flemings Hotel in Half Moon Street was founded by Robert Fleming in 1851, a date commemorated by the hotel’s stained glass window depicting the Great Exhibition at Crystal Palace. Before founding the hotel, Fleming was a valet to the 1st Marquis & Marchioness of Angelsey at 1 Old Burlington Street in London. And that finishes up this post pretty neatly, what ho?

A Couple In England – Free Airline Tickets?

You will no doubt recall how thrilled my husband was when I recently let him in on the fact that we’d be flying to England on Christmas Day. One of his first remarks, made just after, “Oh, eh?” was, “How much is this going to cost us?” “Hardly anything at all,” I replied, content in the knowledge that I’d been passing every purchase I conceivably could through my American Airlines credit card.

Recently, I used all the Advantage Miles I’d accumulated in order to book tickets for our flights to England and used the miles for two tickets from Newark to London (I just missed out point-wise on two round trip tix). I figured I’d use cash and buy our return tickets later. When later came, I was shocked and dismayed to find that purchasing two one way tickets home would cost us three times what a round trip ticket would cost. Holy C@@P!!!!

To put it mildly, I had Royally Screwed Up. What to do? What to tell the Hubby, who lingers under the impression that I have everything to do with this trip under control? And that it’s going to be relatively economical? I pondered this dilemma for days, all the while with Alec Baldwin’s voice playing in my head as he laughed maniacally about `blackout dates’ and the horrors of trying to use one’s accumulated miles, much less rearranging them. I remembered every frequent flyer horror story every friend of mine had ever related.

I put off calling American Airlines for days, certain of the fact that no good at all would come from the call and that I would be left with no choice but to triple pay for our airfare. Finally, I worked up my courage and called. And an angel named Betty answered. And listened patiently to my panic stricken tale. And then undid and rearranged my previous travel arrangements, smoothed everything out and only charged me a $150.00 penalty to do so. And all without said Hubby finding out.

Oh, there was one hitch – those dreaded black out dates. It turns out that no frequent flyer seats were available for our planned return date, so now Hubby and I must make the supreme sacrifice and stay in England an extra day.

Betty, you are a star.

A Couple In England

Recently, I was reading Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men In A Boat when I came upon the following passage:

“What we want is rest,” said Harris. “Rest and a complete change,” said George. “The overstrain upon our brains has produced a general depression throughout the system. Change of scene, and absence of the necessity for thought, will restore the mental equilibrium.” George has a cousin, who is usually described in the charge-sheet as a medical student, so that he naturally has a somewhat family-physicianary way of putting things.

I agreed with George, and suggested that we should seek out some retired and old-world spot, far from the madding crowd, and dream away a sunny week among its drowsy lanes—some half-forgotten nook, hidden away by the fairies, out of reach of the noisy world—some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time, from whence the surging waves of the nineteenth century would sound far-off and faint.”

As I’ve recently been feeling the strain of a maternal broken hip, and as the exact meaning of the phrase “beck and call” has been made crystal clear to me in recent weeks, you can imagine the effect the above passage had upon my fatigued psyche. I agreed with every word I’d read, save for the bit about putting the nineteenth century far off.

Needing to get away, the three men in question eventually hit upon a fortnight’s boat trip as the answer to their problems. Unfortunately, rowing myself and my husband up and down the Thames held no appeal for me, so it became necessary for me to come up with an alternate itinerary. Naturally, the words “some retired and old-world spot” put me in mind of London. While the City might not, nowadays, be universally described as “far from the madding crowd,” I felt sure that my little bit of Mayfair and St. James’s would prove as soothing as ever. And nothing manages to calm my nerves more than a visit to Apsley House.

“Drowsy lanes – some half-forgotten nook . . . ” You may be sure that I gave this turn of phrase some thought. If I were a pipe smoking sort of lady, I’d have fired up a bowlful whilst ruminating on the myriad English places that fit this description. Where existed drowsy lanes? I must admit, I got caught up on this one for a time, since there are endless possibilities. However, I then re-read the passage and saw again the “half-forgotten nook.” By Jove, we’d go to Bath! Half forgotten, indeed, as so much of the City remains as it was in a long forgotten time, said time being the Georgian period. Yes, Bath would do nicely, I thought.

Finally, I considered “some quaint-perched eyrie on the cliffs of Time,” which proved easily deciphered, as Windsor Castle, whilst not precisely on a cliff, is as quaint an eyrie as anyone might want. And practically speaking, if we circled back round for a stay in Windsor as the last leg of our visit, we should be ideally placed for the flight home.

Having determined our itinerary, I then informed my husband that we are going to London, Bath and Windsor at Christmas time. My husband is a study in understatment – so dignified, so reserved. And what a sense of humour! Where you or I would, upon hearing this marvelous news, have gushed and, at the very least, jumped for joy, my husband managed, no doubt by Herculean effort, to contain his excitement and offered me instead an admirably conservative, “Oh, eh?”

I could tell that the husband was giving the proposed itinerary a goodly amount of thought. He tried to play it cool by keeping his eyes glued upon the t.v. and Pardon The Interruption, but after a time he turned towards me and asked what Bath was, what was there and why, exactly, we were going there. What a card!

I did get a rise out of him after I’d explained that we’d be doing a full Wellington day whilst in London – Apsley House, the Wellington Arch, Horse Guards and the daily 3 p.m. parade inspection, a stop by the Wellington Barracks and the Guards Museum, tea at the Langham, dinner at the Duke of Wellington pub and a night cap at the Grendadier. After hearing absolutely every last detail of my plans for a day simply steeped in Wellingtonia, my husband was so overcome with anticipation that the only words he could muster were “Oh. Joy.”

I can only imagine what his response would have been to my proposing that he paddle us up and down the Thames for two weeks.

The Wellington Connection – Pubs

Today we’re taking a look at some of the many, many, many pubs named after the Hero of Waterloo.

As far as I can make out, the Duke of Wellington was not widely known as a drinking man, so the large number of pubs named in his honour is amazing – almost as many as those named for the Duke of York who, I believe, was a drinking man. And the Marquess of Angelsey, who may not have been a lush, but was certainly a wife stealer – but that’s another story. When in London, I heard tell of a man who has taken up the mission of visiting as many of the Duke of Wellington pubs across England as he can. He’s going to be very old, and very drunk, by the time he’s done. One of the prettiest Duke of Wellingtons I’ve seen is this one, though I’ve not personally visited it. Yet.

They’re in Surrey – check out the website here.

Whilst I haven’t made it my mission, I must admit that I’ve fallen upon, and entered, a few Wellington pubs myself, such as the one in Portobello Road that features this sign

And Brooke and I visited the Wellington at Waterloo south of the River in June, which you can read about in at prior post. If you’ve been following this blog, you’ll know that I fell upon yet another Wellington pub when in London recently, at the corner of Wellington Street and the Strand. Here’s a bit from that post to refresh your memory –

“took a boat cruise on the River Thames then went to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street for dinner. It was closed until the 29th – and the cab had left. Fleet Street after business hours is desolate, to say the least. What to do? Well, I thought, I’ll just carry on as if I know what the Hell I’m doing. “This way,” I told Greg as I walked purposefully towards the Strand. Please God, I prayed, let there be somewhere’s nice to eat. We passed The George pub – very old, very atmospheric, very closed. Xmas and the Bank Holiday are playing havoc with opening times. Right then, I told myself, keep marching. We fell upon Somerset House and went inside to watch the ice skaters. Then we walked another three blocks up the Strand when, off on the far right corner I saw something promising – lights were on, people were inside and it looked like a pub. It was a pub . . . The Duke of Wellington in Wellington Street. NO, I’m not kidding . . . saved by the Duke. Again. We had a pint in the bar and then went upstairs to the dining room, where we had a fantastic meal (lamb shank pie for me, steak for Greg) and warmed ourselves by the gas fire. The Duke of Wellington – I ask you, what were the odds!?”

Here are my personal photos of the pub, which don’t measure up to those above, but you’ll excuse me under the circumstances.

That’s the logo for The Lion King just behind the Duke – the pub is next to the theatre where it’s playing.

You can read a review of the pub here. To prove the point that one can, and often does, literally fall upon pubs named for the Duke of Wellington, I tripped over yet another whilst Greg and I were on a Rock and Roll walking tour.

As we had to keep up with the tour guide, I didn’t have the opportunity to peek inside.

Which may be just as well, as I’ve come to learn that it’s known for being a gay bar. The Duke of Wellington . . . . . I ask you . . . . couldn’t they have changed the name to something a bit more appropriate?