I thought I was so clever last night. I got into my pajamas and then put most of my remaining clothes in the washing machine. Then I hung them to dry before I went to bed. It's now almost noon and I'm still in my pajamas because, guess what, my clothes are still damp and this includes all of my trousers (I have to use the British term for fear of being embarrassingly misunderstood here). I broke down at one point and put a pair in the dryer for ten minutes. This seemed to help and they didn't seem to shrink, so I've put them back in for another twenty minutes. I hope that doesn't "land" us an electricity bill from our land-titled-person.

Later today: I finally was able to shower and get dressed and get out the door by mid-afternoon. I resumed my quest from two days ago of finding a particular gift for my mother-in-law. I walked towards Islington, but first stopped at the Joseph Grimaldi Park because I was determined to find the pantomime clown's grave that I didn't find back in August. It is fitting that it is in a former church burial ground. The grass was a little wet because there was a light, misty rain (although the forecast, uncharacteristically, indicated there was a 0% chance of rain today). I found Grimaldi's grave, after about ten minutes, in an annex to the park.

The stone reads:

Joseph Grimaldi 

1778 - 1837

Joseph Grimaldi was 3 years old when he first went on the stage of Sadler's Wells with his father, and worked there for 45 years as performer and part-proprietor.

From his debut in 1806 at Covent Garden in Mother Goose he was adored by all and could fill a theatre anywhere. The name Joey has passed into our language to mean a clown.

He lived all his life among the people of Clerkenwell and died at 33 Southampton Street, now called Calshot Street.

Islington Council has called the park in which he lies buried the Joseph Grimaldi Park to commemorate a great artist and a great man.

I wondered what these berms in the park were. So I looked online when I got home.

I didn't find the answer, but I did find out that they refurbished the park in 2010 and it supposedly looks like this (not the part I saw). I also discovered that there is a musical art installation by Henry Krokatsis dedicated to Joseph Grimaldi. It is in the shape of two caskets and is made of bronze tiles, each tile sounding a different note. It is meant to be danced on and you can supposedly play Hot Codlins, a song Grimaldi used to sing. So I now have to try to go back there tomorrow to look more carefully in the annex.

I continued walking to not one, not two, but at least five stores without finding the gift I wanted. I'll see if I have time to look some more tomorrow after I clean the flat. I did some other browsing and managed to waste the rest of the afternoon. Gord met me up at Ottolenghi for a very tasty early dinner.

I'm going to miss these old buildings when we leave in about 38 hours.

Reading: The Cat's Table by Michael Ondaaatje

The shipper picked up our two boxes today. In the photo the big one, containing clothes, is in the truck and the little one with books is on the dolly. They should arrive on our doorstep in New York before we get home. This move is starting to become a reality.

I took the #91 bus to Somerset House (only it was a yellow double decker bus, not a red one). I got off a stop too early, but the walk was short.

I first checked out their skating rink, then walked through all of Fortnum and Mason's Christmas Arcade, which covered the main floor of one wing of the building. It took me a while, but I finally made it to the exhibition Malick Sidibé The Eye of Modern Mali. This is the first solo exhibition in the UK of the photographer, who died this year. I liked his work a lot and found it hard to believe he took these photos with a Kodak Brownie camera and a flash. He traveled around Bamako, the capital of Mali, capturing the youth culture at play, in nightclubs, at beaches, and parties. The exhibition was divided into three sections, Nightlife in Bamako (1963-1965), Beside the Niger River (1970s), and The Studio (1960s-2001). He wasn't recognized internationally until the 1990s, but was awarded the Golden Lion in Venice in 2007. The exhibition was accompanied by an interesting soundtrack.

I then went to the north wing of Somerset House, to the Courtauld Gallery. I can't believe I almost missed getting here this time. I started on the top floor with their collection of impressionism and 20th century art, as well as their temporary exhibition space. I had forgotten how nice a collection it is. Of course, the first photo I took was of a painting on loan from a private collection, so it isn't representative, but I still liked it and others they had by the same artist, Maurice de Vlaminck.

Reclining Nude 1905, Maurice de Vlaminck (1876-1958)

This painting by Georges Braque surprised me by the colors, until I learned that he painted in the Fauvist style prior to his Cubist period. I much prefer the former.

The Port of l'Estaque, 1906, Georges Braque (1882-1963)

And I do like Walter Sickert.

The Iron Bedstead, Around 1906, Walter Sickert (1860-1942)

For some reason, today I was drawn to the paintings with the heavy buildup of paint. These two by Leon Kossof are good examples. The first one was of a scene near our flat. The third photo is a detail of the lower right section of the second, to show the amount of paint used.

York Way Railway Bridge from Caledonian Road, Winter, 1966-67, Leon Kossoff (born 1926)

Head of Seedo, 1964, Leon Kossoff (born 1926)

Detail of Head of Seedo

I still love this Manet.

A Bar at the Folies-Bergere, 1881-82, Edouard Manet (1832-83)

The temporary exhibition Rodin and Dance: The Essence of Movement was interesting. It focused on his exploration of movement through drawings and terracotta and plastic sculptures. It bothered me no end to notice that one of the drawings was hung upside down. I'm not sure if it was done in error or was intentional, but I can't imagine why it would be the latter. I can't imagine it is the former, either, since the show has been up since October 20. I sent them a friendly inquiry to find out and I'll add an update if I hear back. No photos were allowed.

I then went down to the first floor (what we call second floor) to see their 16th through 19th century collection. They had a startling collection of Peter Paul Rubens paintings.

It was dark when I left for home, and spitting rain, but the ice rink in Fountain Court looked lovely.

The view from the front of the top deck of the bus home was nice as well.

I had about an hour at home before Gord and I walked to get our last meal of fish and chips.

Watching: Black Books

Things I'm looking forward to when we get home:

1. our washing machine
2. our dryer
3. our cat
4. cooking in our kitchen
5. our bed
6. seeing my dad
7. seeing Gord's mum
8. seeing my girls again

Things I'm not looking forward to when we get home:

1. being inundated with political news
2. the cold
3. the gym
4. going through our mail
5. having to drive everywhere instead of walking and taking public transportation

I'm sure I will think of things to add to both lists.

We had a lovely meal tonight. Marty and Brea took us to their favorite curry house, Palace Spice, in Battersea. It was bittersweet, though, because it's the last time we'll see them before we leave. I forgot to take a photo of them, again, until we got outside. The light wasn't good, but I can at least prove that they exist. 

There was a ring around the moon tonight, it has turned colder again, and tomorrow it's supposed to rain.

I can tell that I'm ready to go home and be done with this blog. I spent most of the day yesterday at home. In the afternoon I got an unexpected text from my friend Jo from Manchester who was in town for the day, wanting to know if I could meet her for coffee/tea. Gord wanted to take a break from marking papers or writing or whatever he was doing on his laptop, so the two of us walked over to the British Library to meet her. It was supposed to be a quick cuppa as she had some work to do, but we spent a good 2.5 hours catching up (we hadn't seen her since October) and getting her perspective on the election (she and Mark were in the US for the first two weeks of November).

For dinner, we tried Vinoteca behind the two train stations. It was decent, though expensive, but the best thing about it was their extensive wine list whose wines are also available in the wine shop attached to the restaurant. I wish we had known about it months ago, because it's a little late now.

Today we worked on filling and then weighing the boxes we will be shipping home. We then went for dim sum before embarking on a search for a specific gift for Gord's mum. I tried ordering it online yesterday, but delivery wouldn't be until the middle of January. So I went on their website to see if there was a list of retailers that carried the product. There was, except they called them stockists. Armed with my phone bearing the stockists in the area, with three of them in the general direction of home, we started our walk. The map was not detailed enough, and the first two stores turned out to be duds, one being in a building under renovation and the other was not a retail business. The third store used to carry the product but no longer does. I'll continue the quest Monday. We walked the rest of the way home, for a total of just over three miles.

Along the way we ran into the SantaCon folks in front of Euston Station. I didn't really know anything about SantaCon except that I read that there was going to be one here today. Apparently it began in the US and seems to be a big deal. As if people need an excuse to get drunk and unruly.

And we also passed these window washers. We've seen this on other buildings. They just rappel down the buildings, washing as they go, like it's no big deal.

After doing some packing, I walked up Caledonian Road to the Overground station and took a train to Hackney Central. It was pretty seamless. There is this whole overground system that gets you all around greater London. It began service in November 2007, while we were here the last time. We first took it this past August to visit my niece.

Once in Hackney, I walked through the lovely St. John at Hackney Churchyard Gardens, stopped for a cappuccino and crepe at the Brew For Two cafe in the gardens, and continued on to Sutton House and Breaker's Yard, a National Trust property.

Built in 1535 by Sir Ralph Sadleir, a member of the royal court of King Henry VIII, this brick Tudor manor house is the oldest residential building in Hackney. It has been through a number of incarnations since: it was home to a silk merchant in the 1600s, various boarding schools in the 17th and 18th centuries, some Huguenot families in the 1800s when it was divided into two homes, and, in the 1980s, squatters. It was falling into disrepair until the National Trust took it over in the 1990s. It is a maze of rooms and an odd place. It wasn't very crowded and they didn't seem to pay much attention to or were prepared for the few visitors anyway. In the Great Chamber, four people were rehearsing loudly for Beauty and the Beast that will be performed there next week and the week after. In the courtyard, two men were removing leaves and debris, and one was up on a ladder. In the gift shop and cafe, I had to hunt down someone to make my few purchases. There were two people in the kitchen, but they seemed to be preoccupied with getting food ready for an event or something. I felt like I was in everyone's way, but I was following their self-guided tour pamphlet and had to go through the Great Chamber and the courtyard to get to the next items on the tour. I'm hoping that maybe I just visited on an off day.

Mural by the squatters

Squatters' room

From there I took a bus to Whitechapel. Despite what I said in a previous post about a negative experience I had traveling by bus, it really is a great way to see London. I had a front row seat on the top of the double decker, and it afforded a perfect view.

My destination was the Whitechapel Bell Foundry, Britain's oldest manufacturing company (established in 1570) and the maker of Big Ben and the Liberty Bell, to name just two of many. At the end of last week, they announced they would be closing by May of next year. It's very sad. I knew I couldn't take a tour because they are filled up into next year as a result of their announcement. They have also been inundated with online orders for bells that will take three months to fill. They had some bells and paperweights in their shop, but anything with their name on it has sold out. I bought a limited edition stamp that was issued in 2000 as well as a tote bag. The woman in the shop was lovely and very helpful. On my way out, she told me to make sure to walk around the side of the building. I did.

I was headed to the Underground, but stopped at the Whitechapel Gallery first. I reluctantly decided not to do the ticketed exhibition, William Kentridge Thick Time, as I didn't think I could take the time. Instead I viewed the other galleries. My favorites were the Guerilla Girls Is it even worse in Europe? and the Barjeel Art Foundation Collection Imperfect Chronology - Mapping the Contemporary II. (I would say more about it, but it's after 2 AM, my brain hurts, and I want to get this posted.) 

Last but most certainly not least, I met my niece Brea for dinner. When she isn't working on the Christmas Jumper Day for Save the Children, she might be seen at a restaurant on assignment as a mystery diner. I joined her tonight, but I can't say where we went or what we had, only that it was very good. We spent a good three hours sampling too much food and doing a lot of talking. My job was easy--I had to eat half of the food--and Brea gets to go home and write a detailed review.

I'm going to miss this canal.

There was no water this morning. The workmen, fortunately, were here early and had it fixed by late morning, so the inconvenience to us was minor compared to what might have been. It kind of threw off my plans for the day, though.

The boxes we ordered from the shipping company arrived today, but they forgot to include the packing tape and have to come back. I ordered one small box for Gord's books and one large box for some of our clothes. We're trying to eliminate our extra checked bags, but I'm worried one box won't be enough. I've started filling it, except I'm going to have to do a trial run on the suitcase I am checking to make sure. Gord will have to do the same. There are weight limitations on these boxes, which adds another factor into the mix.

We walked over to King's Cross to pick up some lunch from Proper Curry & Chips. I tried it last month and raved about it. They only have their food stall at that location on Wednesdays and this was the first Wednesday Gord was home. I don't think he was as impressed as I thought he would be. I think I oversold it.

In between packing up clothes I managed to read a little and to watch two episodes of The Crown. It's been a lazy day all around. For dinner, we walked over to Addis, an Ethiopian restaurant recommended by our landperson and that we had been wanting to try. It was good, but not great. There was a certain spice that we couldn't identify, but no unusual spices came up in my online research later at home. The recipes I found all seem to use spices that are also found in Indian food.

The restaurant was busy with groups, probably office parties, and some of the diners were rather raucous. Among them was a couple at a table for two, deep in conversation, clasping hands across the table, and seemingly oblivious to the revelry around them. I guess Gord and I have been married too long to be able to tune them out in like fashion.

I started a load of towels at 6 PM. It took over 3.5 hours just to wash them. It's now past midnight, the towels have been in the dryer 2.5 hours and are not completely dry (but are dry enough). Why?, I ask. Are the manufacturers in cahoots with the utility companies here? No wonder people in the UK are afraid of their power bills. This is absurd.

Who knew that Damien Hirst had a gallery in South London with exhibitions that showcase his private art collection? I didn't, until last week, that is. But in all fairness, it only opened in late 2015. It's called the Newport Street Gallery.

The current exhibition, Gavin Turk: Who What When Where How & Why is a survey of Turk's career and features over 70 works in six galleries. He appropriates ideas from artists Jackson Pollock and Andy Warhol, as well as from everyday objects. The everyday objects are made from painted bronze, but they look incredibly real, right down to the zippers on the sleeping bags. Even examining them up close you can't believe it is bronze. He borrows from Warhol with his Sid Vicious series of silkscreen on canvas pieces and from Madame Tussauds with his waxwork pieces.

Transit Compression, 2012
Crushed Transit van

Burnt Out, 2008
Painted bronze

Habitat, 2004
Painted bronze

Self-Portrait (Fountain), 2012
Bronze, heating element, pump, water, stones

The Last Bum, 1999
Waxwork

Pop, 1993
Waxwork in vitrine

Somebody's Son, 2007
Waxwork in wooden sentry box

Pavement, 2008
Painted bronze

Flat Tyre, 2013
Painted bronze

Pile, 2004
Painted bronze

Nomad, 2002
Painted bronze

The Wall Torn Down, 2005 and Yard Box, 2016
Painted bronze

Refuse, 2012
Painted bronze

On the way to the bus stop I passed this, the Henry Moore Sculpture Studio, part of Morley College for adult education.

I then went over to Hyde Park to check out the Winter Wonderland. I thought it was just beer, mulled wine, sausages, an ice rink, and some shops, but it was a whole amusement park with roller coaster, ferris wheel, fun houses, arcades, and so many rides that I had trouble finding my way out.

I had about 40 minutes at home before Gord and I left to meet Brea for dinner. We were supposed to go to Dishoom, but upon arrival were told that it would be a 2.5 hour wait due to 20 tables of six or more that were prebooked. So instead we ate at a new steak house near us, Bar and Block. It was good, but newer than we realized--their official opening was yesterday and our server, bless his heart, was a little overwhelmed. But it was more conducive to conversation, as Dishoom is quite loud. It has been fun having Brea and Marty here in London and I'll miss them when we get home.

The men were working all day on the water main break (or whatever it is that is causing the water to gush). No change in the water, but the hole is twice as big now. In fact, they are outside our gate working on it right now, at midnight. I can't and don't want to imagine how much water has been wasted these last six days.

I guess it's too late to watch an episode of The Crown tonight.