Spiraling into London
Sunny Days for Art and Walks, Nights with Friends
En route home to Bramasole in Cortona, we’ve paused. First in NYC, now in London, where spring is bursting in every park, and people are strolling about in shorts. Bliss. Soon I’m looking in estate agents’ windows, fantasizing about living here. What other city has such appealing rows of townhouses—Victorian brick with spilling window boxes and royal blue doors, or curved streets with Georgian white edifices and brass that surely must be polished daily. Step out and you’re in streets overloaded with charm.
But, no, we won’t be purchasing one of these dream pads. Sigh. What we’ll do instead is head straight to the Siena exhibition at the National Gallery—the art from that exquisite town in Tuscany—from the period 1300-1350, really the birth of the Renaissance, when local artists began to move from the iconic, static Byzantine style toward an expansion into emotion and humanist gestures. For example, there’s the Christ child fiddling with his mother’s veil instead of staring into the distance. Even though I’m pretty familiar with the era, I learned new things at the exhibit. Somehow I’d never realized that one reason Siena was a flourishing center for art is that it was on the major pilgrim route from Canterbury to Rome and therefore a lively crossroads for information about art—and Europe—from many sources. And I rediscovered the suddenly bold use of color, as in the Duccio Annunciation below.
Some of the works are small predella panels (the smaller paintings at the base of a large painting or triptych) that must be seen close up. This makes for slow movement of the crowd through the exhibit but also an intimacy with the work.
Strolling in the parks, pretty streets, and lively village-like shopping areas enforces that desire to live, at least part time, in London. What I love: the blue heritage disks on houses that tell who once lived there, the window boxes that never look forlorn, the civility and friendliness, effective Uber and taxis but also the super convenient Underground, the unique character of each neighborhood, literary ghosts everywhere, especially in Bloomsbury, the bridges over the Thames, polyglot sounds along the sidewalks, and hidden gardens, some requiring keys to enter.
A Cortona friend from London said we must dine at Arlington (formerly named Caprice). She became engaged there many years ago when Elizabeth Taylor and all the stars used to be at the next table. The marriage was a disaster, but my friend has continued to go there forever and especially recommends their martini. It’s still glam, and I got to see one of my best relatives, Nancy, my great-niece, who decamped from Atlanta to work here and shows no sign of regret! Below, we’re about to have our first courses, fat asparagus with Hollandaise and an endive salad.
Last time here we stayed in Kensington. This time, Marylebone. Among the intriguing shops, La Formagiere drew us first. We were able to pick up several choice cheeses for our friends’ dinner party, plus walnut fig bread from Boulangerie Poilâne. We stowed them in our hotel mini bar and set off for the Goya to Impressionism exhibit at Courthauld Galleries. We seem to be spending a fortune on ever-ready Uber. Last trip, we took the Underground everywhere but with such delicious weather, it’s a pity to head down below.
At the Courthauld, we saw the small but mighty exhibit “Goya to Impressionism,” plus the permanent collection. Miracle: The museum wasn’t crowded! A treat to visit great paintings, long known but never seen before.
On our last night, we had dinner with friends in St. John’s Woods, cementing my instinct that London is a fine place to live. The leafy neighborhood, friends at the door, then their friends coming in with bouquets of peonies, good conversation, and an Italian feast to welcome us—yes, at least a month here, please.
Details
We love staying at the cosy hotel, The Pelham, but this time, using up points, we stayed in a larger, city hotel, The Churchill, a Park Hyatt. Very nice staff, comfortable room, and well located right on Portman Square.
Guardian article on the “Goya to Impressionism” exhibit
Since we were going on to Florence, we flew out of City Airport. Really, it’s not much closer in than the major airports, and it’s as crowded. Plus you have to schlep your carry-on (ours is the max) down three flights then up the plane’s stairs. The small plane had seats like park benches. BUT—soon we landed in Florence!
Frances, so many excellent, fabulous recommendations! You are the grasshopper of travel.
It makes me want to get to London and find my own place to land asap! I feel like so many in the US are ready to decamp overseas until the Sh*t show is over. Safe travels ♥️