Where the Toffs Live

My regular readers will know that I almost never spend time in posh areas of London unless there's some history to be learned or art to see. In my ten previous visits, I had never set foot in Belgravia, though I'd seen it on tv (the Bellamy family of Upstairs, Downstairs lived at 165 Eaton Place). So, what better way to explore Belgravia's grand Georgian squares and pretty little mewses than with a City of Westminster guide. My friend Jenny has recently qualified as a Westminster guide, and she offered to take me on a personalised walking tour, one that she's working up for the punters. 

We met up in Grosvenor Gardens, across the street from Victoria Station, and then quickly left the traffic and chaos around the station for the serene residential squares of Belgravia.  Jenny pointed out that many of the toffs who live here go off to their country homes at the weekend, which explains why we saw very few people about. Mercs and Range Rovers were parked up and down the streets, and not a Ford Escort or Vauxhall in sight. Grosvenor is a name that came up many times on our walk, for Belgravia was originally (and much still is) the Grosvenor Estate, owned by the Duke of Westminster, who is obscenely rich. On our walk, we passed the former home of Margaret Thatcher (under renovation at the moment), dozens of blue plaques denoting homes of the great and the good (and the wealthy), and the scene of an unsolved murder. We also ducked down little mewses, where the stables for the homes had been. The grooms and other servants lived in the mewses, in what are now darling (and expensive) little houses and flats. I'm not going to go into all that I learned on my walk -- if you want to find out more about the area, you'll just have to book a place on one of Jenny's walks.

The tour ended at The Grenadier, one of the many little pubs that are tucked away in the mewses. It's reputed to be one of the most haunted pubs of London, though I have no first-hand ghost sighting to confirm that. We had a great pub lunch there (carrot soup for me and veggie burger for Jenny), which was very reasonably priced, especially with the £5 coupon I'd printed from the website. 

After lunch, we went our separate ways. I headed to Sloane Square; my destination was the Saatchi Gallery. In front of the gallery, there was a Saturday farmers' market going on in Duke of York Square -- I was thrilled to find the Pieminister there. I bought myself a Heidi pie (veg and goat cheese) to take home for later in the week. It's my all-time fave pie, and I like to eat at least one per London visit. 

You might remember that last year, Maggie and I stopped into the Saatchi Gallery after our long Fulham to Chelsea walk. The only thing we saw then was Richard Wilson's sump oil installation. This visit, I had ample time to roam the galleries from top to bottom. The main exhibition currently on is Paper -- various two- and three-dimensional works made on or with paper, by young British artists. Galleries are great because they're free, they generally show new -- and often edgy -- work, and they usually let you take photographs. I took scads of snaps of people as they photographed the art with their phones and iPads. I think I was channeling Tony Ray-Jones a bit. 

On my way back Spooner's flat, I got off the bus at Westbourne Park station so that I could take a little stroll through Meanwhile Gardens and check on my yarn bombs. I didn't bring any new knitted pieces with me this year, but I had left small pieces in the gardens on two previous visits. My 2011 pieces are still there, both looking faded and one starting to unravel. Of my bird and three flowers from 2012, only two flowers remain, droopy and overgrown with vines. It's like visiting old friends, but I'm sad to see that they've gone downhill since we were last together. I'll make a concerted effort to bring some bright, new woolly works on my next trip over.

Stats:
30p for the loo at Victoria Station

£10 for soup and ale at the Grenadier
£3.95 for Heidi pie (up from £3.50 last year)
17,002 steps (6.44 miles)

Yarnbombing, sewage, and the arm of a chair

Sorry to have taken so long to write my post about my final day in London. I was on the move most of the day, and when we got back to the flat it was packing, dinner, and Downton Abbey. So, here's the belated recap.

Sunday dawned pretty grey and gloomy, with rain threatening, so I scurried down to Meanwhile Gardens for a bit of yarnbombing while Roger was up at the Queen's Park Farmers' Market. I left 3 flowers and a wee red bird on the railings in the wildlife garden:

I'm afraid that the rain that came later in the day probably wilted the flowers a bit, but I hope the staff found them on Monday morning and smiled. 

The rest of Sunday was taken up with our visit to Crossness Pumping Station, a Victorian sewage pumping station designed by Joseph Bazalgette and known as the "Cathedral on the Marsh." I'd been wanting to see it for ages, but it's only open to visitors about half a dozen Sundays a year. I'd seen my Flickr friends' photos of the interior, and read about it in The Great Stink, a not-so-great novel about the sewers of London and the creatures who inhabited them in the mid-1800s. On Crossness open days, volunteers -- all dressed in waistcoats and bowler hats -- steam up the working boiler, called the "Prince Consort" (each of the four engines is named after a royal), and tell people about the history and technology. From 1865, when Crossness was opened by the Prince of Wales, until the 1950s when it was replaced by a new pumping station, the four beam engines pumped sewage from the lowest level of the gravity-fed sewer system up to a reservoir, from which it was dumped into the Thames when the tide was going out. This system, which utilized 450 miles of sewers, brought the sewage eastward, out of central London where it had previously flowed directly into the Thames and resulted in very smelly and unhygienic conditions in the city. It all ended up in the same place after the sewers were built, just further downstream and closer to the sea.

The building is a Grade I masterpiece, with lovely detailed brickwork on the outside and the most elaborate wrought iron inside. Since the 1980s, when volunteers began the restoration work, they've not only restored the Prince Consort, but have painted much of the ironwork in a fantastic color scheme of green, red, white, purple, orange and gold. Donning hard hats, we roamed around with hundreds of other visitors, seeing three floors, watching the beam engine and fly wheel put through their paces, and chatted with the volunteers. (FYI, it only smells of sewage outside, if the wind is in the right direction. Not smelly at all inside the pumping station.)

Cold, rainy, miserable weather greeted us when we exited the building and waited about half an hour for the shuttle bus back to the Abbey Wood station for the train ride back into London. While Roger made our dinner, I did my packing. You're probably all wondering what goodies I would be bringing back from the UK -- prezzies for all my friends? packets of Hobnobs and Ginger Nuts? a bottle of excellent single malt Scotch? None of these, I'm afraid. Stuffed into my suitcase were a very full plastic envelope with all the paper bits I'd picked up -- exhibition brochures, a few postcards, and a small print of Amy Winehouse doing the Hoovering -- and the arm of a wooden hall seat of Roger's. I remember the whole piece, which was about six feet tall and made of oak. It had belonged to his grandmother, and he moved it around from place to place when he lived in Massachusetts. On the last move, when he was putting his stuff into storage before leaving for the UK, the hall seat met with an unfortunate accident involving a pickup truck and the pavement, and is now in bits and pieces. Under mysterious and inexplicable circumstances, one of the bits (the flat and slightly curved right arm) made its way to England and surfaced in Roger's move to Maida Hill. So, into my suitcase it went, to be reunited with the other bits that are somewhere in Northampton, MA. 

Despite not bring much tangible stuff back with me, I came home with lots of great memories and the sense of accomplishment of a trip well done. I ticked off most of the must-see things on my overly-ambitious spreadsheet. I didn't get lost once and I didn't lose anything. I spent about £230 for 9 days (cheap!), walked a total of 72 miles and took 640 photos. And I had some wonderful meetups and adventures with a bunch of lovely people who I count as good friends. Thanks to everyone who made UK Trip #10 so fab!

Stats:
10,995 steps (4.33 miles)
Expenses:
£1 for Crossness map and donation for van ride (Roger paid the five quid for my admission)
£10 to Roger for food and booze
$70 parking at the Massport lot in Framingham
$2.40 toll on the Mass Pike

Tuesday = Garden Day

It wasn't a conscious plan, but Tuesday turned out to be a day of gardens. The plan was to meet up with Maggie at Putney Bridge station, for a stroll around Bishop's Park, then up the New King's Road to Chelsea. Since it was such a bright, sunny day when I woke up, I decided to seize the opportunity (with rain being predicted for the rest of the week) to first take a detour through Meanwhile Gardens on my way to catch the tube at Westbourne Park station. I wanted to check on the yarnbombs that I'd left there last year, and pre-scope some possible sites for this year's wooly creations. The striped yarnbomb is still quite bright, and easily seen from the towpath. I wandered through the wildlife garden, and ran into two of the gardeners. I told them that I was the yarnbomber, and their faces broke into big smiles. "We love it! We were so excited when we came to work and found it last year." I told them to be on the lookout for some more surprises in a few days. My second, green piece, is still where I left it, well hidden in the foliage. 

It was a perfect day for a long, long walk with Maggie, which has turned into a bit of a tradition. We ambled through the walled garden at Fulham Palace and then eastward, past one of the oldest brick kilns in London, the remaining walls of an old penitentiary, an art nouveau temperance hall, some absolutely lovely almshouses, a fabulous (disused) Victorian power plant, into the (rebuilt) church where Henry VIII married Jane Seymour, looked for Queen Elizabeth I's mulberry tree (didn't find it), and saw dozens of blue plaques for painters, writers and suffragettes who lived along Cheyne Walk, and the Royal Hospital where the army pensioners live out their final days. Our stop at the Chelsea Physic Garden was well worth it -- what a great place, full of beautiful beds of flowers, medicinal herbs, veg and all sorts of plants from around the world. If I lived in London, I'd go there often and maybe finally learn to tell one plant from another.

The last stop on our ramble was the Saatchi Gallery in Sloane Square, to see Richard Wilson's oil tank, which I'd wanted to see for ages. It was even better than I imagined -- it totally distorts your sense of space, of what's up and what's down, and where you are in relation to floor and ceiling.

The day ended with a meet-up with 15 or so of my mates from Guess Where London -- a marvellous bunch of smart, witty, knowledgeable, and ever-so-quirky photographers. Big thanks to Maggie and to everyone who came to the meet-up for making it a memorable day in London.

Stats:
27,946 steps (11.02 miles)
Expenses:
£2.79 lunch from Tesco Express (tuna & sweetcorn sandwich and a beverage, eaten on a bench overlooking the Thames)
£9 Chelsea Physic Garden
£6.30 beer and nibbles at the Cross Keys

We Yarnbombed the Bike Path

In observance of International Yarn Bombing Day, Riot Prrl (a knitters’ league for positive mischief) turned out yesterday to decorate a section of fence along the bike path in Northampton. We chose a particularly desolate spot, behind a disused car dealership, that looked like it needed a bit of cheer and love. As we were putting up our pieces, a couple of grumpy bikers (who clearly needed to feel the love) told us to get out of their way, but most of the people who came by seemed genuinely appreciative of what we were doing, whether or not they’d ever heard of yarnbombing. I hope people whizzing by on bikes or rollerblades slow down for a few seconds to let our joyful creation brighten their day. And I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the city doesn’t take it down and that no one nicks our work.

Here are some of my creations spread out on my patio before the big day:

Work in progress:

The results:

We’ll be adding additional pieces over the next few days or weeks. More photos (with location map) here. If you’re on the bike path, and see some bits of color come into view, please stop to smell the flowers and say hi to the wee bluebird.

I yarn stormed London

It's hard to believe that my nine days in London are almost over. The time went so quickly, yet it was long enough for me to feel the closest to being a real Londoner that I've ever felt.

Yesterday (Saturday) morning, while Spooner was at the steam bath getting all remaining traces of buffalo, pig and soil out of his pores, I took the two yarn bombs that I'd brought from home down to Meanwhile Gardens. I found good places to attach them -- I put a green one with leaf pattern on a metal railing near the pond, and a striped one on a hand-made stick railing in the wildlife garden. As I was sewing them in place, a young man did Tai Chi on the platform above the pond near my first location, and the birds and squirrels scurried and hopped around my feet at the second spot. My friend Helen used to come to Meanwhile Gardens, and to the stretch of canal next to it, often to photograph the birds, plant life, and the reflections in the water. I like to think she would have noticed my yarn bombs straight away, and would have smiled and approved of my creative mischief in her garden.

In the afternoon, Spooner and I went to two art events that bring street art indoors. The first was the Moniker Art Fair at the Village Underground in Shoreditch. We also walked around the car park behind Holywell Lane and looked at what was new on the walls there. Neither indoors nor out was as good as last year, but we saw some interesting things. After that, we rode the bus across London Bridge, walked through Borough Market for some nibbles (much of which was free samples of chutney, cheese and bread from various vendors), and took another bus over to Waterloo to see The Minotaur in the Old Vic Tunnels under the train tracks. Some of it was cool, some creepy, and some puzzling.

Another long bus ride took us to Hampstead for dinner with Greg and Esther at a nice little French bistro where we'd all eaten together a couple years ago. It was a great meal, with lovely company, and a very nice way to end my trip.

I managed to see most of the people I wanted to meet up with, though I really regret not seeing the ones I missed. I ticked off most of the things on my massive list of exhibitions, historic spots, markets and rambles. The places I didn't get to will just have to go onto the list for the next trip. Except for the first couple of days, my back held up and didn't ache. I didn't lose anything or get lost. The weather was decent -- no real rain to speak of, and the final two days were full of blue skies and sunshine. And I didn't wear my rain boots once.

Big thanks to Spooner and all my mates who made this such a fab trip.

Expenses:
£5 last top-up on my Oyster
£2 spinach packet at Borough Market
£10 tix (2) for the Old Vic Tunnels
£17 dinner and wine

17,738 steps
6.99 miles

My Year in Dullsville

Yes, we had an earthquake, but I didn't feel it. We also had a hurricane, but it brought me only a lot of rain and some small branches down in my back yard. The winter was absolutely dismal, and I'm not going to mention it again ... ever.

One of the highpoints of the year was joining up with Riot Prrl, a knitters' league for positive mischief. I've always wanted to be a yarn bomber/yarn stormer/urban knitter, and I added to Riot Prrl's tree project in Northampton, done for International Yarn Bomb Day (June 11). Since then, I've made a few pieces to adorn some of the street furniture around town. Here's a photo that ScribeGirl took of me working on one of my pieces:



I'm hoping to do a lot more of this in the coming year. It sure beats my previous feminist activist endeavor, which shall go unnamed, and which was cause of much frustration. I'm also working on some pieces to take with me to London in October. My plan is to place them in Meanwhile Gardens, in memory of my dear friend Helen, who I think would have enjoyed seeing them. She often visited that stretch of the Grand Union Canal to photograph the birds, buildings and reflections. I miss her company, her humour, and her inspiration as an activist, a feminist, and a photographer.

Planning for my upcoming trip to London is well under way. I'm hoping to make some new discoveries and to revisit some favorite haunts. I'll be staying in Maida Hill rather than Belsize Park, as Spooner has moved flats. I'm looking forward to walking the towpath along the canal to Camden Town, and to getting to know W9/W10. I promise to post regularly while I'm there.