I left the house about 1630 and arrived at concourse 7 to check in with Continental and found out my gate was 25. The only problem was Continental was using United’s Red Carpet so I walked over to gate 9 and the United area. After a couple of hours in the Red Carpet Lounge and some snacks, I headed for the renovated section of HNL to gate 25. I was impressed with the changes, the art works, and the food court.
I was impressed with the paddler sculpture honoring A. E. “Toots” Minvielle (1903-1992), founder of the Molokai-Oahu canoe race, and with the Wave Flight by Donald Harvey (1982). There was also a display honoring Wally Yonamine.
We (UA 3431/CO 2, a 767) left on time. My seating mate was a former Los Angelenos. He was on his way from Honolulu where he was on business to some place in Texas. I figured he was one of those security dudes (“if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you” types). He was driving, probably picking up his Glock in Houston. i tend to fantasize.
We landed a little early at gate E-25, and I headed over to the Continental’s President’s Club. I checked in with a very business-like agent although she melted when I thanked her, using her name. Making people feel important is part of good traveling. The lounge was nicely modern, but the fare was modest, nothing substantial. Lots of crackers, cheese, fruits, breakfast items were set up for the whole day, like the lounge was on morning mode. I was glad I bought the Red Carpet Lounge pass with miles. I had a 7-½ hour layover.
I left the lounge for lunch and headed for Pappas and a pulled pork sandwich. The sandwich was bit sloppy, and the cole slaw was not like mother's; however, I enjoyed the flavoring.
My impressions of Bush Intercontinental Airport: the size, the food court, the retail stores, and the large carts transporting people all over the terminal. These were fairly large movers that zipped along nicely in the concourse. I wondered what the accident rate was; and, if, in fact, there had been an fatal accidents in the concourse area. Yes, the people movers were moving fast.
I headed for gate E-4 for flight UA 3348/CO, a 777, to LHR. Prior to the gate, I saw a mock-up of a 787, the dreamliner.
I had a meal of chicken parmesan penne with salad and a honey vinaigrette and ginger ale. It was OK. I enjoyed playing a Free Cell game on the screen, but I played only one game because maneuvering the system, the up and down arrows, was too much work.
I was impressed with the paddler sculpture honoring A. E. “Toots” Minvielle (1903-1992), founder of the Molokai-Oahu canoe race, and with the Wave Flight by Donald Harvey (1982). There was also a display honoring Wally Yonamine.
We (UA 3431/CO 2, a 767) left on time. My seating mate was a former Los Angelenos. He was on his way from Honolulu where he was on business to some place in Texas. I figured he was one of those security dudes (“if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you” types). He was driving, probably picking up his Glock in Houston. i tend to fantasize.
We landed a little early at gate E-25, and I headed over to the Continental’s President’s Club. I checked in with a very business-like agent although she melted when I thanked her, using her name. Making people feel important is part of good traveling. The lounge was nicely modern, but the fare was modest, nothing substantial. Lots of crackers, cheese, fruits, breakfast items were set up for the whole day, like the lounge was on morning mode. I was glad I bought the Red Carpet Lounge pass with miles. I had a 7-½ hour layover.
I left the lounge for lunch and headed for Pappas and a pulled pork sandwich. The sandwich was bit sloppy, and the cole slaw was not like mother's; however, I enjoyed the flavoring.
My impressions of Bush Intercontinental Airport: the size, the food court, the retail stores, and the large carts transporting people all over the terminal. These were fairly large movers that zipped along nicely in the concourse. I wondered what the accident rate was; and, if, in fact, there had been an fatal accidents in the concourse area. Yes, the people movers were moving fast.
I headed for gate E-4 for flight UA 3348/CO, a 777, to LHR. Prior to the gate, I saw a mock-up of a 787, the dreamliner.
I had a meal of chicken parmesan penne with salad and a honey vinaigrette and ginger ale. It was OK. I enjoyed playing a Free Cell game on the screen, but I played only one game because maneuvering the system, the up and down arrows, was too much work.
We arrived early at LHR, having the advantage of tailwinds; however, we were early so we did a lovely half clover leaf over London. We landed at Terminal 4 where we headed for Immigration and a 20-minute processing line. I picked up my luggage at claim 1 and caught the Heathrow Express, having to change at Terminal 5.I arrived at Hotel Elysee to meet up with D. He told me the hotel was full up the night before and there were no rooms so I left my suitcase and carry-on and started my adventure. I met up with a friend; he had moved to Edgware Road, away from Sussex Gardens. We headed on the Bakerloo line to Baker Street stop. Of course, I had to have my picture taken with the Sherlock Holmes statue. I thought the stop on Bakerloo line could be advertised as “For those of you seeking consultation with a world-class private detective, off at Baker Street and a visit to 222-B Baker Street.” It was so blase to announce only Madame Tussaud’s.
From this stop where I bought some Wills-Kate keychains, we walked to 2 Moxon Street and La Fromagerie, a place I learned from Barefoot In London. I ordered the bacon sandwich, and it was superb. The bread was right, soft bread hard-crusted; and the bacon was simple, nothing fancy, just well cooked, crisp but the fatty part soft. No slathered-on mayonnaise, no lettuce or tomato, just butter. Absolutely delicious. My friend had a salmon salad.
After the meal, I walked over to Marble Arch and Hyde Park to find the 7/7 memorial, 52 stelae or columns to honor the 52 victims of the attack on the transportation system on July 7, 2005. Located on the Park Lane Hotel side of Hyde Park, the memorial stands starkly among the trees and flowers of Hyde Park.
I returned to the hotel by bus, passing the last installment of art in the Arch, what looks like bubble babies in primary colors. I disembarked at Lancaster Gate, walked over to Hotel Elysee and checked in to room 30B.
A teaching buddy now retired and I met up with her friend, and headed for Priscilla Queen of the Desert at The Palace on Shaftesbury and seat Stalls E10. The play with no original songs and lots of costumes is one of those plays that is full of fluff which doesn’t get better with time. It had some moments like the divas on the trapezes, the bus Priscilla, and some of the drag costumes. In many ways it was Mama Mia meets La Cage Aux Folles.
Day two in London started with breakfast in Hotel Elysee's breakfast room where my entry was reminscent of Dolly's entry to Harmonia Gardens. One of the workers saw me and welcomed me back to Hotel Elysee. I missed last years traveling due to an operation so it was good to be back. After hugs, she showed me to M&D’s (my travel buddies) table.
I had the scrambled eggs, beans, toast, and coffee, a hearty English breakfast for a long day. After breakfast, we decided to meet at 10:00 to search for Borough Market. It was a crisp late winter morning as we headed for Paddington and the Bakerloo toward Elephant and Castle, transferring to Northern and back to Borough Market.
Our first stop was Bedale’s to warm up. I had an espresso while M&D had hot chocolate which wasn’t that hot. We then left Bedale and headed for the market itself where I sampled fig almond tart, chives garlic butter, amaretto cookies, and fish soups (Thai curry, green curry, and a stew). We walked into Brindesa’s stall for some jambon, Chegworth Farms for a slice of artisan cheese by Mr. Leeds, and bought a chorizo sandwich hot off the grill. The hot sandwich had a bit of rocket added. Just delicious.
While heading for the more permanent side of the Market, we came upon a tv crew filming a scene. I asked a rent-a-cop what was going on. He said they were shooting for a BBC series titled New Tricks, very much like our Cold Case.
We entered a konditor (German pastry) shop and purchased some brownies and a slice of Victoria sponge cake off. We ate it outside. We walked down to the part just outside the market called Vinopolis for a visit to Laithwaites Wines. I had the opportunity for a mini-wine tasting session. The reds were light and dry. I had a Spier pinotage, Opi Malbec (produced for the British palate so unusually dry, not fruity at all), a Greek mouras.
We ended our stay at Feng Sushi for lunch. I had fish (hake) tempura with vegetables, the restaurant’s take on fish and chips. There were two pieces of fish tempura surrounded by mushroom, broccolini (3 pieces), zucchini, squash (2 pieces), okra, and sweet potato. It was hard to find the fish pieces, and all were a bit oily.
We returned to Craven Terrace as I had to get ready to attend Danny Boyle’s Frankenstein at the National Theatre. I left the hotel about 4:30 pm and caught the tube to Waterloo Station and hoofed it to the South Bank complex, passing Festival Hall, a Mandela bust, and the Film Institute.
I got to the Theatre a little early so enjoyed a Speckled Hen Light Ale. The play itself was outstanding, and Jonny Lee Miller was incredible as the monster. “Because of the indisposition of Benedict Cumberbatch, the role of Victor Frankenstein is played at this performance by Daniel Ings.” The play opens with the naked monster forcing his way out of a membranous wall reminiscent of a baby being born, entering the world through its mother’s vagina. Only this monster had to mother. For the next five minutes a writhing monster learns the body it has, the limbs, how to walk. He is a blank slate albeit a hideous slate. He scares the village folks, two hunters, the reactions of these people teaching him how cruel people can be. Then he meets a blind man who treats him like a person, teaching him how to read, how to think, how to like. But then the blind man’s son and daughter-in-law return from the fields. The blind man tells the monster not to fear, that his son will accept him, but that is not what happens. The monster, chased away, returns to seek revenge, burning the hut down with the three people inside. The monster finds his creator and demands a mate. Dr. Frankenstein creates a mate for the monster, but then kills the mate, saying no monster should be allowed to procreate.
Dr. Frankenstein, trying to trap the monster, arranges his wedding; and, on his wedding night, the vigilant Doctor and his security force have the house surrounded. The monster eludes the security and finds his way to the wedding bed where he rapes Mrs. Frankenstein and then twists her neck, killing her. The audience collectively gasped at this scene. Incredible theater! The play ends rather cryptically with Dr. Frankenstein chasing the monster literally to the ends of the earth, to the Arctic region; the two forever fused, creator and created. It was awesome.
I returned to Paddington and walked back to the hotel, passing a souvenir shop, walking into a wine shop in search of Strega. It is no longer on sale in Hawaii, no distributor willing to distribute it.
On March 4,Friday, after breakfast in the hotel, we headed for Saatchi Gallery via Sloane Square tube stop. We passed the Duke of York Square (the present day Duke is Prince Andrew who was all over the news with his relationship with some rather snaky characters).
We entered the gallery free of charge maybe because the gallery is also a working gallery, with the relationship of the Saatchi Brothers and Phillips de Pury and Company. The gallery is divided into two sections: the permanent collection and the temporary exhibits, the latter mainly supportive of Pury and Company. Of course, the ideas presented by contemporary arts range from the ridiculous, a diorama of insects presented as a series of mobiles, to the provocative, a wall mural of a columbarium and an almost photo-like painting of the Space Program 2008 by Jonathan Wateridge. As he explained, “Astronauts have an almost symbolic status. They operate on the frontier of an effort to understand the unknown. They appeal to a child-like sense of awe and adventure yet are the ultimate display of a culture's economic power and political ideology."
The most enduring of the Saatchi Gallery is Richard Wilson’s used sump oil which I saw when the gallery was in North London. The exhibit presently showing was Newspeak: British Art Today. Some of the artists included Dan Perfect who said, “The ideas in my work are tightly bound to the physical performance of making them. My paintings are like imagined interior or psychological landscapes. You might think of them like stage sets or dramatic scenes from video games: their space doesn’t go on forever, and they have rules and parameters.” And Ansel Krut who displayed his humor with his Arse Flowers In Bloom. As he said, “For Arse Flowers In Bloom I wanted to paint something that was challenging and direct. The image happens in two places simultaneously: they are flowers, but they are mooning at you. The white lines in the background make the space quite shallow, and suggest a venetian blind or lines in a text book."
Phillips de Pury had a Brian Clarke exhibit which included works such as The Actor and Untitled.
After an exhausting morning of checking the four floors of paintings and sculptures, we headed to the Mess for lunch. The Mess’s entry is dominated by a sculpture of a shoe. It was only missing a can of foot deodorant. I had a delicious duck confit salad with bits of duck served up with mescalin and a mild vinaigrette. I washed it down with a diet Coke.
After the visit, I left the group and walked up to Harrod’s. I didn’t realize it would be a forty minute walk. It didn’t look that long on the map. At Harrod’s, I bought a Swarovski crystal 80th b-day card for a family member, bought four cake-pops, two ginger jams (they're baaaaaaaack). I headed back to the hotel as we had a show to attend. On my way back, I purchased my Strega.
We met in the lobby at 4:30 for our tube ride to Trafalgar. We checked it at Trafalgar Studios for a restaurant recommendation. The ticket guy suggested Walkers of Whitehall, a bit more posh than the other pubs in the area. I enjoyed a fish and chips with London Pride bitters. I wouldn’t agree that it was that posh; the dude was so wrong.
We had some time to kill so I went over to check out what was happening at the Fourth Plinth. The fourth plinth had Ship in Bottle, the work of Nigerian artist Yinka Shonibare. Drawing on the history of the iconic London square and the historic statue on its famous column, the ship in bottle on Fourth Plinth is a scale replica of Admiral Nelson's flagship HMS Victory, which played an important role in the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Nelson died aboard the Victory after being shot by a French marksman following the British defeat of the French battle fleet.
The Square itself was closed for World Book Night. The event was hosted by Graham Norton and included such luminaries as Margaret Atwood and Alan Bennett. I got to hear Mayor Boris Johnson read a selection from Lucky Jim.
We had good seats (stalls K10) for the play, End of the Rainbow, starring Tracie Bennett as Judy Garland. It was a tour de force for Ms. Bennett; however, I found the play part weak. The development of Ms. Garland’s character didn’t work the drugs angle out though I found the development of the role of her husband in drugging her up so that she could perform to pay the bills strong. Ms. Bennett sang the songs powerfully, but at times her dialogue sounded more appropriate for Kate Hepburn. Stephen Hagan as Mickey Deans was uneven in his performance, not quite successful in making Mickey the villain. Hilton McRae, as the long suffering Anthony, was excellent, willing to do anything for Judy, even being the foil for Mickey. The play handled the very last days of Ms. Garland as a prologue, the play ending with a rock out by Ms. Bennett as Ms. Garland.
I had an early departure Saturday morning for Paris aboard the Eurostar so, instead of walking up to Paddington, I caught a taxi. (to be continued)
I returned to the hotel by bus, passing the last installment of art in the Arch, what looks like bubble babies in primary colors. I disembarked at Lancaster Gate, walked over to Hotel Elysee and checked in to room 30B.
A teaching buddy now retired and I met up with her friend, and headed for Priscilla Queen of the Desert at The Palace on Shaftesbury and seat Stalls E10. The play with no original songs and lots of costumes is one of those plays that is full of fluff which doesn’t get better with time. It had some moments like the divas on the trapezes, the bus Priscilla, and some of the drag costumes. In many ways it was Mama Mia meets La Cage Aux Folles.
Day two in London started with breakfast in Hotel Elysee's breakfast room where my entry was reminscent of Dolly's entry to Harmonia Gardens. One of the workers saw me and welcomed me back to Hotel Elysee. I missed last years traveling due to an operation so it was good to be back. After hugs, she showed me to M&D’s (my travel buddies) table.
I had the scrambled eggs, beans, toast, and coffee, a hearty English breakfast for a long day. After breakfast, we decided to meet at 10:00 to search for Borough Market. It was a crisp late winter morning as we headed for Paddington and the Bakerloo toward Elephant and Castle, transferring to Northern and back to Borough Market.
Our first stop was Bedale’s to warm up. I had an espresso while M&D had hot chocolate which wasn’t that hot. We then left Bedale and headed for the market itself where I sampled fig almond tart, chives garlic butter, amaretto cookies, and fish soups (Thai curry, green curry, and a stew). We walked into Brindesa’s stall for some jambon, Chegworth Farms for a slice of artisan cheese by Mr. Leeds, and bought a chorizo sandwich hot off the grill. The hot sandwich had a bit of rocket added. Just delicious.
While heading for the more permanent side of the Market, we came upon a tv crew filming a scene. I asked a rent-a-cop what was going on. He said they were shooting for a BBC series titled New Tricks, very much like our Cold Case.
We entered a konditor (German pastry) shop and purchased some brownies and a slice of Victoria sponge cake off. We ate it outside. We walked down to the part just outside the market called Vinopolis for a visit to Laithwaites Wines. I had the opportunity for a mini-wine tasting session. The reds were light and dry. I had a Spier pinotage, Opi Malbec (produced for the British palate so unusually dry, not fruity at all), a Greek mouras.
We ended our stay at Feng Sushi for lunch. I had fish (hake) tempura with vegetables, the restaurant’s take on fish and chips. There were two pieces of fish tempura surrounded by mushroom, broccolini (3 pieces), zucchini, squash (2 pieces), okra, and sweet potato. It was hard to find the fish pieces, and all were a bit oily.
We returned to Craven Terrace as I had to get ready to attend Danny Boyle’s Frankenstein at the National Theatre. I left the hotel about 4:30 pm and caught the tube to Waterloo Station and hoofed it to the South Bank complex, passing Festival Hall, a Mandela bust, and the Film Institute.
I got to the Theatre a little early so enjoyed a Speckled Hen Light Ale. The play itself was outstanding, and Jonny Lee Miller was incredible as the monster. “Because of the indisposition of Benedict Cumberbatch, the role of Victor Frankenstein is played at this performance by Daniel Ings.” The play opens with the naked monster forcing his way out of a membranous wall reminiscent of a baby being born, entering the world through its mother’s vagina. Only this monster had to mother. For the next five minutes a writhing monster learns the body it has, the limbs, how to walk. He is a blank slate albeit a hideous slate. He scares the village folks, two hunters, the reactions of these people teaching him how cruel people can be. Then he meets a blind man who treats him like a person, teaching him how to read, how to think, how to like. But then the blind man’s son and daughter-in-law return from the fields. The blind man tells the monster not to fear, that his son will accept him, but that is not what happens. The monster, chased away, returns to seek revenge, burning the hut down with the three people inside. The monster finds his creator and demands a mate. Dr. Frankenstein creates a mate for the monster, but then kills the mate, saying no monster should be allowed to procreate.
Dr. Frankenstein, trying to trap the monster, arranges his wedding; and, on his wedding night, the vigilant Doctor and his security force have the house surrounded. The monster eludes the security and finds his way to the wedding bed where he rapes Mrs. Frankenstein and then twists her neck, killing her. The audience collectively gasped at this scene. Incredible theater! The play ends rather cryptically with Dr. Frankenstein chasing the monster literally to the ends of the earth, to the Arctic region; the two forever fused, creator and created. It was awesome.
I returned to Paddington and walked back to the hotel, passing a souvenir shop, walking into a wine shop in search of Strega. It is no longer on sale in Hawaii, no distributor willing to distribute it.
On March 4,Friday, after breakfast in the hotel, we headed for Saatchi Gallery via Sloane Square tube stop. We passed the Duke of York Square (the present day Duke is Prince Andrew who was all over the news with his relationship with some rather snaky characters).
We entered the gallery free of charge maybe because the gallery is also a working gallery, with the relationship of the Saatchi Brothers and Phillips de Pury and Company. The gallery is divided into two sections: the permanent collection and the temporary exhibits, the latter mainly supportive of Pury and Company. Of course, the ideas presented by contemporary arts range from the ridiculous, a diorama of insects presented as a series of mobiles, to the provocative, a wall mural of a columbarium and an almost photo-like painting of the Space Program 2008 by Jonathan Wateridge. As he explained, “Astronauts have an almost symbolic status. They operate on the frontier of an effort to understand the unknown. They appeal to a child-like sense of awe and adventure yet are the ultimate display of a culture's economic power and political ideology."
The most enduring of the Saatchi Gallery is Richard Wilson’s used sump oil which I saw when the gallery was in North London. The exhibit presently showing was Newspeak: British Art Today. Some of the artists included Dan Perfect who said, “The ideas in my work are tightly bound to the physical performance of making them. My paintings are like imagined interior or psychological landscapes. You might think of them like stage sets or dramatic scenes from video games: their space doesn’t go on forever, and they have rules and parameters.” And Ansel Krut who displayed his humor with his Arse Flowers In Bloom. As he said, “For Arse Flowers In Bloom I wanted to paint something that was challenging and direct. The image happens in two places simultaneously: they are flowers, but they are mooning at you. The white lines in the background make the space quite shallow, and suggest a venetian blind or lines in a text book."
Phillips de Pury had a Brian Clarke exhibit which included works such as The Actor and Untitled.
After an exhausting morning of checking the four floors of paintings and sculptures, we headed to the Mess for lunch. The Mess’s entry is dominated by a sculpture of a shoe. It was only missing a can of foot deodorant. I had a delicious duck confit salad with bits of duck served up with mescalin and a mild vinaigrette. I washed it down with a diet Coke.
After the visit, I left the group and walked up to Harrod’s. I didn’t realize it would be a forty minute walk. It didn’t look that long on the map. At Harrod’s, I bought a Swarovski crystal 80th b-day card for a family member, bought four cake-pops, two ginger jams (they're baaaaaaaack). I headed back to the hotel as we had a show to attend. On my way back, I purchased my Strega.
We met in the lobby at 4:30 for our tube ride to Trafalgar. We checked it at Trafalgar Studios for a restaurant recommendation. The ticket guy suggested Walkers of Whitehall, a bit more posh than the other pubs in the area. I enjoyed a fish and chips with London Pride bitters. I wouldn’t agree that it was that posh; the dude was so wrong.
We had some time to kill so I went over to check out what was happening at the Fourth Plinth. The fourth plinth had Ship in Bottle, the work of Nigerian artist Yinka Shonibare. Drawing on the history of the iconic London square and the historic statue on its famous column, the ship in bottle on Fourth Plinth is a scale replica of Admiral Nelson's flagship HMS Victory, which played an important role in the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Nelson died aboard the Victory after being shot by a French marksman following the British defeat of the French battle fleet.
The Square itself was closed for World Book Night. The event was hosted by Graham Norton and included such luminaries as Margaret Atwood and Alan Bennett. I got to hear Mayor Boris Johnson read a selection from Lucky Jim.
We had good seats (stalls K10) for the play, End of the Rainbow, starring Tracie Bennett as Judy Garland. It was a tour de force for Ms. Bennett; however, I found the play part weak. The development of Ms. Garland’s character didn’t work the drugs angle out though I found the development of the role of her husband in drugging her up so that she could perform to pay the bills strong. Ms. Bennett sang the songs powerfully, but at times her dialogue sounded more appropriate for Kate Hepburn. Stephen Hagan as Mickey Deans was uneven in his performance, not quite successful in making Mickey the villain. Hilton McRae, as the long suffering Anthony, was excellent, willing to do anything for Judy, even being the foil for Mickey. The play handled the very last days of Ms. Garland as a prologue, the play ending with a rock out by Ms. Bennett as Ms. Garland.
I had an early departure Saturday morning for Paris aboard the Eurostar so, instead of walking up to Paddington, I caught a taxi. (to be continued)
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