Hail Britannia, Part Two


Tube stop: Liverpool Street

Destination: The Geffrye Museum, a converted 18th century almshouse devoted entirely to English domestic interiors. Living rooms, to be exact. It's widely hailed as one of London's most loved museums, and I couldn't wait to visit it.

If you're wondering how I was going to get The Little Prince to accompany me there whine-free, the answer is that I had done a little groundwork back in Los Angeles. A visit to The Geffrye Museum website revealed a wonderful interactive quiz which leads a child through a Victorian house in search of a lost dog. Complete it and you can print out your very own award.
Once Luca had his official certificate in his hot little hands, it was all he could do to count the days until we went there. That, and ask me incessantly about chamber pots.

We walked through a series of living rooms laid out in chronological order, each dedicated to a specific period in interior design. 

The 1880's room (below) is a beautiful example of the Arts and Crafts movement. Followers of this movement rejected the "soulless" mass production of the Victorian era in favor of a return to simplicity, good craftsmanship and appreciation for decorative arts. 

The William Morris wallpaper was to die for.

The room below showcases a glamorous apartment in 1930's London.
I can just envision the imaginary couple who own it.  This is their town flat; they have a massive estate in Kent that they motor to on weekends. Tonight, they're hosting a small cocktail party to celebrate the husband's newest play in the West End called "She Suffers Fools Gladly." At this moment, they're in the kitchen mixing up a trendy new cocktail called "Angel's Wing", an exotic menage of creme de cacao, prunelle brandy and double cream.

This next room represents the 1950's, of course. 
I love how this room so gracefully expresses the democratic ideals of midcentury modernism: simple organic shapes with a strong nod to the Scandinavian ideal of functional beauty.

Apologies for the glare spots on the painting below, but I couldn't not photograph it.  I find it so wonderfully emblematic of the glamour of 1920's London, peopled with the young and decadent "Bright Young Things" that Evelyn Waugh wrote about in his novel, Vile Bodies.

After leaving the Geffrye, we walked down Commercial Street and passed this lovely church, of which I have been unable as yet to discover the name.  
(Note: Claire from the UK has informed me that it's Christ Church Spitalfield's, which I discovered was designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor in 1714.  Thank you, Claire!)

Next Tube stop: Tower Hill

Destination:  Tower of London. I have been there many times before, but it was Luca's inaugural visit and I was excited to take him there.
I had prepped him on some features of Tudor times that I thought might interest him and my strategy paid off -- he was eager to visit the palace where so many people were reluctantly parted from their heads. 

Once inside the main gate, we passed by this lovely Tudor-era building that still houses the ceremonial guardians of the Tower, the Yeoman Warders (also known as "Beefeaters").  I love the turqoise doors. 

My next manoeuvre was to immediately whisk Luca to the gift shop.  He picked out some gruesome souvenirs and I told him if he was well-behaved during his time here, as soon as we exited the museum, they would officially be his.
Ravens were everywhere.  Legend has it that if they ever leave the Tower, the kingdom will fall. Today, the government takes no chances and clips their wings to prevent them flying off...just in case.

The torturous rack in The White Tower proved an endless source of fascination to my son...

...as did the executioner's axe and chopping block.

He was also quite pleased to discover that he was officially taller than a dwarf. 

Next Tube stop: Piccadilly Circus

Destination: Waterstone's. Housed in the former Simpson's department store, a 1930's Art Deco landmark, it now boasts 5 enormous floors of books, books, books.
As it was dinner time, we took the lift to their chic restaurant on the top floor, but unfortunately The Little Prince's palate doesn't run to coriander hummus, chorizo kebabs or smoked haddock. So we walked around the corner to Benihana's...
...where he was served served plain chicken and rice in a manner very well-suited to a seven year old.

Afterwards, we returned to Waterstone's and spent a good hour and a half there, emerging victorious as night fell.

My purchases ran from "Voices from Dickens' London" to "The Garden Wit and Wisdom of Beverley Nichols." Luca's ran to "Beast Quest" and "Scream Street: Fangs of the Vampire." (As long as he's reading, I withhold all comments on his literary choices. For now.)

Then it was home again, home again, jiggety-jig. I handed Luca the Underground map and informed him that from now on, he was the trip navigator. His first challenge was to get us through the labyrinth of tunnels to the correct train platform that would take us back to the hotel.
Mission accomplished.

Next stops: Russell Square/Oxford Circus.

Hail Britannia, Part One

After journeying through endless miles of darkness, we awoke to the cabin crew's directive to return our seats to their original upright position. Still groggy with sleep, The Little Prince was soon lost in a reverie of introspection.

We took the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station.  With a time change of seven hours and a journey of over twelve, the ride was a bit of a blur.

Then it was a short hop via black cab to The Gore Hotel, situated between Knightsbridge and Kensington, in SW7.

At the front door, we were greeted by a handsome toad.  I appreciate hotels with a sense of humor. They remind me of  home.
Feeling as if our legs could do with a stretch, Luca and I voted to take the stairs to our room. The walls are crowded with a fabulous collection of art, most of them featuring Queen Victoria.

I took this photo especially for Style Court in deference to her remarkable series on how to frame art.

In moments, we were there.  Room 211.

We always request this room because the bed leaves us speechless.  According to the hotel, it once belonged to Dorothy herself.

I have posted on this room before, but seeing it again made me realize that my camera had gotten the wall color wrong last time.  It isn't dark pewter, it's a stunning blue black.  

Fortunately, this time I had my Farrow and Ball paint swatch brochure with me.  The color was immediately apparent:  Hague Blue (the one on the bottom right).

You have to love a hotel which provides you with a selection of friends in every room.  I know I do.

That night, we joined The Divine Italian downstairs at the hotel restaurant (called "Bistro"). This room makes my pulse quicken.  It somehow manages to be both glittering and cozy, elegant and friendly, embodying as it does that quintessentially English style of "tradition with a twist."  Plus, the light is very flattering, a not inconsiderable benefit when you're waging a battle with jet lag.
The food was delicious.  I had parsnip soup, Piero had moules and The Little Prince was initiated into the divinity of sticky toffee pudding...a singular success, as you can imagine.

The next morning, Luca and I awoke at at the crack of noon and managed to heave ourselves out the door by 1:30pm, feeling a trifle guilty but very well-rested.  The weather was glorious and remained that way during our entire stay.

Everywhere we looked, Victorian London rose up to greet us.

Gloucester Road was our local tube station. Designed by Leslie Green in 1868, it's a classic example of the Arts and Crafts style. I love the green tiled sign with its distinctive type font.

As the train pulled into the station, I realized that our adventure had officially begun.

Next Stops:  Liverpool Street/Tower Hill/Piccadilly Circus.

Destination: London


Back in a week, my darlings...be good while I'm gone.

He's With Me

I'm going to London with Luca next week and I've been thinking a lot about how to make the trip memorable for both of us.  The Divine Italian is going to be there as well, but he'll be busy working, so most of the time it'll be just me and The Little Prince out on the town.

Luca is a great traveller. Obviously, when you travel with kids, it's not just about you anymore, but I firmly believe that you don't have to sacrifice your own desires for theirs. Everyone can be accommodated. It takes a little more patience and sometimes a little more stealth, but it's possible. 

Here's what I've learned so far:

1.  When staying at a hotel, tell them if they're really really REALLY good...
(Washington, D.C)

...you will let them sleep on the floor just this once.


2.  If the splendors of the Woodrow Wilson House don't do it for them...

(Washington, D.C.)

...playing "jail" in his private elevator will.


3.  No matter the age, Roald Dahl never disappoints.
(Gargunnock, Scotland)

4.  Be understanding if art in action fails to move them...
(Washington, D.C.)

...but running backwards on a moving platform does. 

5.  Know that sometimes they need to get away from us just as much as we need to get away from them.
(Gargunnock, Scotland)

6.  Accept that sometimes boredom can be remedied...
(Liberty and Co., London)
...by switching seats...

...and sometimes they just have to figure it out on their own.
(Normandy, France)

7.  If you're washing one, you might as well wash five.  
(Gargunnock, Scotland)

8.  If the restaurant staff doesn't mind, neither should you.
(Washington, D.C.)

9.  If your child insists on eating pasta with butter every night for dinner, breathe deeply and let it go.
(Yvestot-Bocage, France)

10.  The path less-traveled...
.
(Gargunnock, Scotland)

...usually leads to trees.  This is a good thing.

11.  The more you let them loose now...
(Louvre, Paris)

the better behaved they'll be at that nice outdoor cafe later.
(St. Germain, Paris)

12.  When you need a break, never underestimate the somnolent power of the road.
(Somewhere in the French countryside)

13.  And at least once on every trip, pull a Willy Wonka. 

(Los Angeles)