1) My little hotel on the North Parade was exactly the right place for me to stay on this first visit to Bath, and I felt a little wistful completing my packing and enjoying my last breakfast.
2) Imagine my happiness when I walked into the train station and was told that yes, my train was still on schedule today, and I would not have to take the bus after all! Someone I used to work with erty-farf years ago used to say “Trust in God, but lock your car.” Ferreting out a bus ticket yesterday (thank you, Paulikins!) was just locking my car.
My view from the station platform. Farewell, Bath!
3) Unsurprisingly, the train became quite full. When not buried in The King Is Dead, Long Live the King! I had a nice conversation with the tea lady, who is the manager, as some workers were still on strike today.
4) From Paddington Station via the Bakerloo line to Embankment, and through a beautifully planted park (with flowers and statuary) to the Strand Palace Hotel. One of the landmarks en route was a statue of Robert Raikes, the inventor of Sunday School. And I thought “Well, he has a lot to answer for.”
On the town!
4a) Exiting Embankment station, I heard three young women dressed in short black cackling like the gulls of Bath. Wondering if they were part of Weird Sisters of Macbeth Gone Wild or something, I watched them join a coven of other young women in black . . . surrounding a woman in a short white dress with a veil. Bachelorettes! Run away!
5) Friends recommended the Strand, and I must say it’s very modern in its lighting, and discreetly wealthy in its severely unornamented and dark color scheme. My tiny room under the eaves makes me think of Kitty Carlisle and her mother in Europe, learning “to live in the worst rooms of the best hotels.” Not that my room is at all uncomfortable; I’ve already had a blissful afternoon nap there, and the bathroom is beautiful. But it’s tiny, its window is tiny, and one wall is slightly angled at the top for the eaves. Plus intime, as the French say.
6) A whisper after 3:00 PM it was time to suit up and step out for my scheduled plans: tea at Fortnum and Mason’s, and Aïda at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. I took my time, feeling no need to rush (I love that feeling), and my path took me through Trafalgar Square (where a lot of Freedom for Iran activities were taking place). I must say, Saturday in London is more vigorously populated than anyplace I can think of, including New York.
7) To pass the time I drifted into a Waterstone’s (which I now vaguely recall visiting on my last trip in 2019), and heading upstairs to British history or something. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a book called The Secret Rooms, about a duke found dead in the servant’s quarters, by the author of Black Diamonds. And after a page and a half I said to myself “Robert, why are you even standing here? You know you are going to buy this book!” So that was that.
Rehearsal at St. James’s Piccadilly.
8) Having toured Bath Abbey during a youth choir rehearsal yesterday, what a beautiful coincidence to happen upon St. James’s Church, Piccadilly during a music rehearsal today. When I entered it was a chamber orchestra with brass and harpsichord; later they switched out for the choir. I don’t know what they were playing, but the music director knew how to work with his musicians.
8a) I had never even heard of this church, but Sir Christopher Wren designed it, the amazing William Blake was christened there, and it really is a beautiful space of worship.
9) Fortnum’s was jammed, and I made my way through the mob slowly, and up four flights of stairs at a stately pace. Eventually they accommodated me at a perfect table against the wall in a corner, and I had an indulgent and exquisite tea.
Would you just look at that?
9a) The sweets plate, I must say, was a tour de force, especially its clear jelly embedding raspberries and a pansy, and its rose-petal éclair.
9b) I was the only gentleman not on staff wearing a suit and tie.
10) Walking from Fortnum’s, I considered the performance to come while dodging my way through shoals of pedestrians (including a bachelorette party). Without going into a lot of detail, parts of Aïda captured my heart at an early age, a love that has endured when countless other musical obsessions have faded. When I learned it was being staged while I was in London, I knew I had to be there. And not two blocks from Fortnum’s, someone nearby me on the sidewalk whistled the theme from the second act! I felt it was a good omen.
11) I had never been to the Royal Opera House before. It’s vast, expanded, and very crowded with other music lovers. My seat next to the ceiling gave me a wonderful view of the stage as well as the tiers of balconies with their clusters of pink-shaded lamps. Only later did the penny drop that a) this was the theatre in Clemence Dane’s The Flower Girls where all the characters assemble for the reopening of the theatre after WWII, and b) it’s also where the Ballet Lermontov performs Heart of Fire at the beginning of The Red Shoes.
Just look at that ceiling. Inspired by Sir John Soane, I’m sure of it.
11a) I was third in from the aisle, and before long a lady of Wagnerian proportion sat next to me with her husband on the aisle. Feeling her shoulder next to mine, I said to myself “We are going to get to know each other very well before the end of the night;” you see, there are no armrests this close the ceiling. Before the curtain went up she decided to switch seats with her husband — perhaps sensing the same thing. We were all more comfortable then.
11b) Once I wondered idly what it would be like to set Aïda in 1936 for a sort of Mussolini vs. Ethiopia vibe. This could be that production, just without Mussolini. This is nationalism vs. true love, set in severe militaristic design. We think of Aïda glittering with gold and lapis, snakes and sphinxes, covered with heiroglyphics. This production is all gray concrete walls, modern Western military uniforms, starkness, and guns. They were basically worshiping AR-15s at the end of Act I. The temple of Phta (sp?) is a military chapel; the temple in Act III is now a ceremonial military tomb where wreaths are laid behind an eternal flame. Radamés and Aïda are walled up alive to die among shelves of torpedoes. All of it impressed me.
11c) Probably the most innovative thing was how they used the ballet music (which I would usually prefer that they cut). In the temple of Phta it was used as a military review, Radamés walking among four rows of soldiers to receive their salutes. The handmaidens of Amneris, all dressed as Soviet charwomen, used their dance to set a corporate banquet table. Most impressive (and alarming), the Triumphal March in Act II was used for soldiers to bear offstage the coffins of soldiers killed in battle.
12) A nightcap and nosh was in order after all that, and back at the hotel I went down to the bar (where I’m writing this) to get a little something. Only after my negroni arrived did I learn that the kitchen closed at 10:45. I was so pleasant about it that the manager (he had come over to break the news) comped my drink. That’s what Momma meant when she said “You can catch more bees with honey than you can with vinegar.”
Seen in the men’s room at Fortnum’s.