Friday Morning, 4 August: At Random

1) A Flickr friend posted a photo he took today at Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, which reminded me that I was there exactly a year ago today. That was such an amazing trip. It feels forever ago, not just a year.

1a) And it was so hot that day! Today in Boston is the antithesis of that blazing Barcelona sun: grey and cool, lightly breezy, with the promise of rain later.

2) A few weeks ago there was an article in the NYT about Emma, Duchess of Rutland, chatelaine of Belvoir Castle, and her podcast Duchess. The last two weeks I’ve been bingeing the podcast, and it’s quite good. The daughter of a Welsh farmer, Duchess Emma interviews other chatelaines of Stately Homes to find out how they’re run and how each one experiences living and working in heritage. If That Sort of Thing, particularly horticulture and tourism, interest you, I’d strongly recommend it.

2a) Coincidentally, one of the books I bought in London back in May, The Secret Rooms by Catherine Bailey, is all about Belvoir and the current Duke’s grandfather, who died while purging the archives of some family secrets. While it could have been condensed by about 50% (just tell us!), it’s quite a good book.

3) Some people have the analytical talent of asking just one small question — and it makes you think about more that just an outcome you desire. I suggested something about [Insert Item of National News Here] to an online friend this morning who asked me “Who does that benefit?” And it really brought me up short, in a good way.

3a) This is similar to “management by influence,” which is often how I had to finesse reunion committees out of bad decisions — but it’s a skill I possess in only the narrowest terms. My point is, I admire those who can express it more calmly and farsightedly.

The western, or Passion, façade of Sagrada Familia.

Bastille Day 2023: Recommended Viewing

1) J’adore le quatorze juillet, and there are a few film clips it is always refreshing to view. First up, this snippet from near the end of a famous French film, Le Collier de la Reine (1946), in which Marie Antoinette finally figures out what’s to come. The entire film used to be up on Yewtybbe, but all I can locate now is this clip.

2) A few years before, Hollywood gave us its version, Marie Antoinette (1938) starring Norma Shearer and Tyrone Power. Someone once asked a famous actor — I think it was Spencer Tracy — for some advice about acting. His response: “Don’t get caught.” Alas poor Norma, she gets caught in every scene! No wonder she’s better remembered for The Women. But the supporting cast is amazing: John Barrymore as Louis XV, Gladys George as La DuBarry, my beloved Anita Louise as the Princesse de Lamballe, Joseph Schildkraut as the Duc d’Orléans (he also appears in The Rains Came), and Robert Morley as Louis XVI. Who knew, he was nominated for an Oscar for this, and it was only his second film!

2a) Sorry, Squarespace won’t let me link to the Internet Archive the same way it will to the Yewtybbe.

2b) This film is based on Stefan Zweig’s biography Marie Antoinette: Portrait of an Average Woman, one of the books I discovered and still have from Boston Book Annex, a favorite haunt in college. A Freudian approach of her life, I vaguely remember that it was later discovered he omitted facts that disproved his thesis. But his descriptive powers are magnificent. Later today I will reread his account of her trial and execution, as I often do.

2c) Production Code censorship required the writers to gloss over the most basic elements of the story (Louis XVI being unable to consummate the marriage, the adulterous affair between Antoinette and Axel Fersen, etc.) which really limits is. And the second half quite frankly plods. So if you don’t feel like watching the second half, I’ll forgive you.

3) Finalment, the beloved rendition of La Marseillaise in Casablanca (1942).

3a) And actually finally, my favorite French phrase ever.

Independence Day 2023: Three Videos

1) My tradition the last few years is to read the Declaration of Independence aloud, and you should, too. Here’s this year’s reading.

2) Forty years ago tonight — Monday, July 4, 1983 — Gramma and I were watching Morley Safer interview Vladimir Horowitz on 60 Minutes when he began to play “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” He hadn’t played it in at least 20 years, and when he stopped we were both so sad. He sounded wonderful to us! (Skip to 10:51 to hear it.)

2a) By the end of the month Gramma had died. I am so grateful to this day that I got to spend as much time with her as I did that summer.

3) John Adams suggested that our National Day “ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore.” I couldn’t care less about the games, sports, and guns part, but “The Stars and Stripes Forever” as arranged by Morton Gould for eight pianos and 16 hands covers everything else. Maybe, as Salieri suggested in Amadeus, I just need “a good bang at the end of songs to . . . know when to clap,” but there is nothing more glorious than the sparkling cataract of this finale.

Sunday, July 2: Southern Sweep, Day Last: Winging Homeward

1) MARTA had a stop two blocks from the hotel, with a ticketing system very similar to New York’s. On the plus side, a train going to the airport arrived as I was stepping off the escalator. On the minus side, I was panhandled as soon as the doors closed. Half an hour later I arrived at the airport.

2) En route to the airport, I finished The Picture of Dorian Gray. Much is made of seeing the “before” and “after” versions of the portrait, but I confess I would like to see a painting of Dorian’s last encounter with his portrait — and what happened after. That might be splendid.

3) I’m so used to security at Logan Airport I was unprepared for the sheer volume of people funneled through at the Atlanta airport. And in that process, a novelty: walking two abreast through an enclosure containing a TSA employee with a K-9 security dog frisking about.

4) My flight to PHL left over an hour late due to “maintenance issues we took care of on the ground,” and I was mostly resigned to missing my connecting flight. We had a wee bit of turbulence outside the plane — and a screaming child inside, two rows ahead of me — so you can imagine how pleased I was to learn I could make my connection in 20 minutes, as arrival and departure gates were nearby.

4a) It’s interesting, one has no sympathy at all for a screaming child one cannot see. One is more likely to be concerned for a child one can see.

5) Another child impacted my second flight, sitting by the window next to his mother. As soon as the beverage cart was anchored firmly in place right by our row and I had poured a full cup of club soda, the mother asked the flight attendant, “And can he go to the bathroom?” Logistically, I am already thinking that I will have to empty my tray table and stow my book, all while holding a full glass of club soda as well as the can. As it happened, we all had to wait until all rows near us were served, and I feared the young person might be too late! But it all worked out successfully.

6) During both flights I managed to get through both Lady Windermere’s Fan and Salomé. During moments of turbulence I was able to fall back in my mind to waltz music from the 1949 Hollywood version of the former, The Fan, with Jeanne Crain, George Sanders, Richard Greene (swoon), Richard Ney (also swoon), my beloved Martita Hunt as the Duchess, and the incandescent Madeleine Carroll as Mrs. Erlynne.

6a) Salomé, of course, called forth visions of Alla Nazimova’s beautiful and deranged silent film, with costumes based on Aubrey Beardsley by Natacha Rambova (also the mastermind of her husband Rudolph Valentino’s career). Salomé is every spoiled wealthy woman everywhere who thinks it’s OK to command whatever she wants, no matter how depraved. It would be interesting to set this in the Hamptons or Scottsdale.

7) Back on the MBTA. On the plus side: almost no wait times — a rarity these days! On the minus side: while sitting at State Street waiting for my train, a janitor asked me to stand for a moment so he could sweep up an abandoned hypodermic needle under the bench.

8) Walking home from the station, I realized this weather could be described as Louisianian: humid, hazy, and soft, but much cooler than the fierce days I’d just experienced.

9) In my luggage: chicory coffee from Niece Who Must Not Be Tagged, moon pies from Diane (she insisted I squeeze a box into my luggage), Mother’s bride’s book, and a hefty sheaf of large photos and other ephemera. All proof of a wonderful week reconnecting with family and friends.

Saturday, July 1: Southern Sweep, Day Seven: Atlanta

1) Tea is the dominant caffeine at Jane’s house, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t coffee for me after all. And my God, it would raise the dead!

2) My Scorpio horoscope read: “Today the stars advise you to get back into the swing of things, Scorpio. You will forget your past frame of mind and be able to prepare for a new adventure. Your vitality will be as strong as it has ever been. You will probably meet someone who has a beneficial influence in the days to come.” [emphasis mine] “Vitality” became a byword of the day, Jane continuing to tempt me back to Atlanta at some date in the near future.

2a) Three possible people could “someone who has a beneficial influence . . .” Who is it?

3) We promenaded at a gentle pace through Piedmont Park near Jane’s place — first encountering a tediously long line of scooters (Atlanta seems to be afflicted with scooters; I hope a course of antibiotics will take care of it), but then beautifully rolling green spaces, and then a glorious fully open magnolia blossom.

3a) This of course let me to remember the bit from Clemence Dane’s monumental novel The Flower Girls — I know, you were thinking of it, too! — when Jacy sees a woman who turns out to be his Aunt Myrtle in a vintage moviehouse holding a branch of magnolia blossoms “as upright as an acolyte’s candle.” (I had to look it up to get the quote exact; here it is.)

3b) We also encountered Muscovy ducks, which Jane was delighted I recognized. Familiar to me from childhood visits to our camp on the Toledo Bend reservoir.

4) I then transferred to my hotel for the final night of my Southern Sweep, and about 15 minutes after I got established, the final family member I had hoped to see showed up: Oldest Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged. He sacrificed his morning to drive into the city for lunch with his Old Neglectful Guncle, and it was a real pleasure to sit in the shade by the hotel pool and have lunch at talk, mostly about his life in Georgia, plans, family, and other interests.

4a) I have remarked so many times “Children grow up but we stay the same.” Oldest Nephew still has the vocal rhythms and cadences I remember from his childhood, which provided me happy memories.

5) The algorithm brings people together, and apart. On ye Ynstygrymme a couple years ago, the algorithm suggested I follow a well-dressed Georgian academic with an interest in both suiting and horticulture. Since that time we have had many interesting discussions — which led to the pleasure of meeting Tom in person at last for cakes and coffee at Café Intermezzo (which Jane assured me was one of the best venues in Midtown). Aside from suiting, we were able to turn our attention to Oscar Wilde, summer travel past and future, pastry, gardening, books (of course), and — well, conversation is so ephemeral! Who can remember all the details?! What remains is the atmosphere of cultivation and friendship.

6) In the evening, my brain starting to wind down and wander home, I dined at the hotel bar, which managed to provide a menu both limited and pricey. Neither of those things are what I really look for in a menu. Now I love a good bacon cheeseburger, and I love thick-cut bacon. But . . . all I can say is, Etiquetteer was aghast watching me bite into a cheeseburger and having an entire strip of bacon come out because it was too thick to be chewed easily. Awkward.

7) About 9 PM, just as I was finishing dinner, Jane texted “Are you free?” Fifteen minutes later she was with me at the bar, and we continued our wonderful conversation, and expanded it even into the realm of Myra Breckinridge, and a possible Etiquetteer connection.

8) And, to quote Mae West as Leticia Van Allen “The end of another busy day!”

9) But who is the “someone who has a beneficial influence” I was to meet today? Is it Jane, who is percolating with plans for my increased engagement? My nephew, exploring his own path and an example to me of focus and discipline? Tom, with whom I expect to continue to have absorbing discussions on important topics? All three of them?

Friday, June 30: Southern Sweep, Day Six: Atlanta

1) After nine hours of solid sleep, I wrote my morning pages by the grey-gold sunlight coming through Diane’s dining room windows with a cup of hazelnut coffee. For a couple hours I had to the house to myself and caught up on yesterday’s doings and the news.

2) It’s wonderful sometimes to have nothing definite on the schedule and to be able to move at a relaxed pace. When Diane joined me we had some good coffee talk while she prepared two dainty breakfast trays of frittata, fruit salad, and croissants. We chattered over breakfast about everything, eventually being joined by her housemate Michael.

2a) Conversation whirled and eddied like the water of a stream, never really remaining with any one topic for very long, and sometimes bringing new things from unexpected currents.

3) Before I knew it it was practically 11 AM! We completed our morning tasks and then Diane showed me some wonderful photo albums of her favorite places. Then we had to take a picture with her celebration tree, an all-year all-celebrations aluminum Christmas tree that used to belong to her mother. I just love it.

4) In Boston people talk about snow shoveling and parking. In Palm Springs they talk about pool maintenance and irrigation. And in Atlanta they talk about traffic. And now I’ve had a true taste of it, I see why. Diane sweetly and generously drove me into town, and the interstate is a true molasses roadway.

4a) Diane dropped me at my destination, my friend Jane’s, and sadly had to return to Hapeville immediately. And I had so wanted to take her to lunch, but I bravely and affectionately bid her farewell. Of any of my cousins she is a true real and pure Ray of Sunshine, and I absolutely adore her.

5) The skies of Atlanta appeared as dark and foreboding as the news from the Supreme Court, so I felt no guilt at all about settling myself and not investigating Atlanta and just reading and napping.

6) Jane arrived, and there was much rejoicing. We had not seen each other since our 40th high school reunion last October. Before that, we had not seen each other since roughly 1986. The average gap between our meeting is reducing dramatically, and Jane is actively conspiring to reduce it further. Over drinks — and then dinner at Pasta da Pulcinella — she gave me some of the lowdown on Atlanta cultural life.

6a) Near the end of dinner, chatting with the waiter, we told him we went to Interlochen — and it turns out he’s in the theatre department at NYU!

Anton Walbrook as the attractively sinister Boris Lermontov in The Red Shoes.

7) Back in October I had sold Jane on the idea of seeing The Red Shoes. So while the Atlanta sky faded to black we were absorbed in Powell and Pressburger’s masterful, colorful, modern retelling of the old Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale. It will always be a favorite movie of mine, in part because I do see something new every time I see it.

Thursday, June 29: Southern Sweep, Day Five: To Atlanta and Cousins

1) As much as I wanted to sleep on until 3:15 AM, my body wouldn’t let me. By that time I was just about down in the hotel lobby checking out. A cab came almost immediately, cutting my chat short with the nice lady at the desk, and it was off to the airport.

2) Speeding over 70 mph in the middle of the night up an unfamiliar interstate with a silent cabby is an experience. The amount of traffic out at that hour surprised me, too. One car weaving by much faster had a rear bumper made almost entirely of duct tape. I was glad to see the last of that!

3) Logan Airport doesn’t even open security until 5 AM, but New Orleans was active and brightly lit. I considered it a good omen, once through security, to hear Marcia Ball playing over the sound system. Not only is she one of the greatest Southern performers today, she is also my cousin Alice’s sister-in-law, and I’ve seen her perform live. She is amazing, and we must all go when she tours New England next.

4) Everyone has their seat preferences, and mine is the aisle. I would much rather be disturbed by seatmates going to the lavatory than have to disturb others myself. The price is protecting my projecting shoulder from traffic in the aisle.

4a) So I ended up squashed between the parties of an intense discussion: my seatmates, a male/female couple who may never have traveled by air before; the flight attendant, and the man actually assigned to sit in one of those seats. No surprise, the couple should have been sitting in those same seats across the aisle. The man was having so much trouble unbuckling his seatbelt I offered to help, and I reassured them they could keep their overhead bags where they were.

4b) Ultimately I ended up with one empty seat next to me on a “very full flight,” which is a great score.

5) This smooth flight to DFW alternated between rest and reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and anticipation of a long layover at my beloved Pappadeaux at Terminal A Gate 22. So you can imagine my delight when my DFW arrival gate was announced as A19!

6) Well, man plans and God laughs. First, Pappadeaux is actually at gate A25. And second, this.

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

6a) They don’t open until 10 AM.

6b) With head high and resolute step, I brushed away my disappointment and a few bitter tears of denial with humor, found a Maggiano’s near my departure gate, and enjoyed a second breakfast of vegetable frittata and excellent coffee. My disappointment became a source of amusement on ye Fyceybkke, which is sometimes the best way.

6c) The nice young lady at the bar at Maggiano’s was taking excellent care of everybody while also on the phone with her toddler son’s pediatrician. He was so sick with earache and a few other things that her aunt was picking him up from daycare to bring him to the doctor’s right now, and she was going to have to leave her shift early to be there.

7) Another uneventful flight brought me to Atlanta, and the warm, bubbling welcome of my cousine Diane. (She writes it “cousiné.”) She knows the airport well, and after a teensy bit of confusion on my part I found her car, and off we went!

8) My cousin Carol, Diane’s younger sister and perpetual partner in crime, met us at Diane’s house, and we three headed out fairly quickly to visit their youngest sister, my cousin Dottie — talking all the way about everything. I hadn’t seen them since Daddy died in 2016, so there was a LOT to catch up on!

8a) Their mother, Aunt Eleanor, and I enjoyed a good rapport in my teenage years. So it was interesting to hear them remember her saying “When Granny said ‘Jump!’ you asked ‘How high?”” My own mother had sometimes said the same thing, but in different ways. I come from a family of strong women . . .

9) I had not seen Dottie in even longer, and it felt good to give her a big hug after all these years. We all sat around a table and just talked — very much like our parents in the Old Days — so much about living situations, our parents, weddings, travel, family. They loved seeing my pictures of Layla.

9a) Later in the evening, even more conversation, and I had to bid farewell to Carol. It was too short a time!

10) Diane and I called it an early night. I was dropping after a very early day, travel, excitement, and renewed ties. Despite still being keyed up, sleep came easily.

Don’t we look cute?

Wednesday, June 28: Southern Sweep Day Four: New Orleans

1) Up much earlier than I wished, not long after 6 AM, but at this point I’ve learned — on some days, there is no point resisting. After writing my morning pages, I took a second cup of my brother-in-law’s good coffee out to their beer garden terrace in front of the house to read the news. The tall, slim, angled trees, the blue of the sky not yet fierce with heat, all was welcome after a day spent entirely indoors.

2) Somehow I managed to get everything packed snugly before discovering that I’d left my Dopp kit in the bathroom. Thank goodness my little suitcase has an expansion joint! As it is, there’s quite a bit to ship.

3) There was nothing really left to review, and Laura said I had been able to get six boxes down to one and a half. So that’s a victory! After saying goodbye to Tony, we left to cross the causeway over the lake a little after 11, talking about family (of course) and our shared history, and driving, and New Orleans.

4) Back in 2016 I went to Mr. B’s Bistro on the recommendation of an old family friend, and I brought Laura to lunch there today to say thank you. Duck rolls, oysters en brochette for me and scallops primavera (?) for her, and then an absolutely amazing lemon icebox pie with raspberry sauce, and coffee. Laura said it was the most elegant lunch she’d had in awhile.

5) Laura then dropped me at my hotel; like my arrival, it involved a hasty exit and a hasty slinging of bags. The hotel is comfy, New Orleans is superheated, and I ended up staying in my room working on a column about Le Diner en Blanc.

6) My cousin Lindsay, many years younger and even gayer than I, met me at the Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone — an established local landmark — and there was much rejoicing and sparkling! I had not seen him in person in perhaps 30 years. We caught up over Sazeracs (for me). This was my first visit to the Carousel Bar — merry-go-rounds were a cocktail vogue in the 1940s, and for all I know this is the last survivor — and I was absolutely charmed by it.

6a) Lindsay very clearly has the spirit of his mother, my cousin Jerri, and her mother, my Auntie Mef. Family traits will out!

7) We pressed on to one of his local favorites, Kingfish, decorated with large photos of Huey Long (hence the name), for more amazing seafood and conversation. I left feeling absolutely rejuvenated.

8) Now, back in my hotel, I am avoiding contemplating getting to the airport in time for a 6 AM departure by watching The Red Shoes. But my destination tomorrow is Atlanta, and more beloved cousins.

Tuesday, June 27: Southern Sweep Day Three: Family and Photographs

“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

— from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

1) I slept in until about 7 AM, which in this house is late. About two hours later Laura and I got started on the photos again. Reflecting on it now, my head is a kaleidoscope of family, places, colors, costumes, and some bad fashion.

1a) Every time I use the word kaleidoscope I have to look it up. And every time I mispell it. It’s an O in the middle — kaleidOscope. Don’t forget, Robert.

June, 1962: My grandparents with their children and spouses. From left to right: Mef, John, Joan, Tom, Grampa, Clinton, Eleanor, Granny, Hutch, Betty, Daddy, Mother.

2) Laura had already disassembled some of Mother’s albums, so I had stacks and stacks of photos to go through, many from the 1970s. And very many of those didn’t age well. I don’t just mean from a fashion viewpoint, but the colors in so many of them had muddied over the decades. I ended up discarding a lot. I started by putting things into three piles: scan, keep, and toss; Laura plans to review the toss pile at her leisure in case she wants anything. But the first two ended up blending, and Laura will scan what she wants.

2a) We discarded a lot of their vacation pictures, too. Those were important for them, but less for me.

Daddy just picked up the camera one morning and stood in front of Mother and called her name. This was the result.

3) But there were many treasures, including Daddy’s favorite picture of Mother in those years, photos from our Christmas in London, our “Roots” trip to Minnesota to meet Mother’s family in 1977, business ceremonies and functions, news clippings (everyone in the family ended up in the paper at least once, particularly Mother), countless family holidays and reunions and other gatherings. Not just the Dimmicks, either, or the Evanses, but plenty of photos from the Thorsons and the Houskas.

My mother’s parents when they were courting. Gramma once told me she was courted in every Chinese restaurant in the Twin Cities.

4) Anyone who’s been through this process knows how emotional it can be. Some things are wonderful to remember, and some things are not. Nothing can be altered at this point — see quote above — and I don’t see a way to alter my regrets either, at things I did and didn’t do.

5) Even so, we had more laughs than gnashing of teeth. But the one item that brought tears to my eyes was Mother’s bride’s book. White leatherette stamped in gold with a bouquet, it includes records and souvenirs of her bridal shower, the many engagement parties, the gifts (of course!), all the wedding guests, press announcements, and several letters I haven’t looked at yet.

6) I thought I had all of Gramma’s photo albums and had lost the most important one (“Courtship”), so I was both relieved and a tiny bit annoyed that Laura had it, as well as some others. They yielded wonderful photographs of Mother’s family, as well as the news clipping of Gramma and Grampa Al’s surprise Leap Day wedding. And baby pictures of Uncle Bill and Mother!

7) About 3:10 PM I had to succumb to a NAP — but by 4:30 I was clean and dressed presentably for family dinner. Niece Who Must Not Be Tagged and her boyfriend, who I had yet to meet, joined us for some of Laura’s good étouffée. Listening to Tony and the boyfriend talk about cars (specifically Mustangs), motorcycles, and tech, I felt like I got a bit of an education. Megan also gave me my Christmas present — chicory coffee is always welcome! — and just in time, since her 25th birthday is in a couple weeks.

7a) Besides kaleidoscope, I also have to look up etouffée every time I use it.

Uncle Bill, teenage shutterbug.

8) Tomorrow morning we may look at some old Kodachrome slides, but Laura and I will drive into the city tomorrow for a good lunch in the Quarter, and my Southern Sweep will continue.

9) Interesting — we didn’t take any photos tonight.

June 25-26: Southern Sweep, Days One and Two: Mandeville and Lake Charles

Yesterday I began a one-week trip through Louisiana and Georgia to see family for the first time since Mother died in 2019.

1) After Le Diner en Blanc Saturday night, it was, um, challenging to get up at 4:45 AM to get to the airport. Among other things, my Lyft driver told me that traffic starts to pick up in the tunnels as early as 6:00 AM. We had no difficulty getting there, so I felt virtuous about an early start.

2) My flights down were uneventful except for turbulence between Philadelphia and New Orleans, and my anxiety about the turbulence (which was greater than the turbulence). I got through it more calmly than usual by reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, which I haven’t read in more than a few years.

2a) This is a good book for me to be reading at this particular period in my life. I read it first 40 years ago (proof of which is inside the book, an ATM receipt dated April 23, 1983, from my college checking account), and discussed it with my Aunt Betty. She said it was the most evil book she’d ever read in her life. Naturally I found it fascinating, but now I see why she came to fear it.

3) Not having seen my sister in four years, I imagined what it would be like to see her at the airport and give her a big hug. Instead, our reunion began with a lot of texting from the plane, and then me at the curb hastily tossing my bags into the back seat, and myself in after them. We had to save a more affectionate greeting for home.

4) En route home over the causeway — that infinite view remains unchanged — Tony and Laura and I talked about family, craft distilleries, absinthe, and other things.

5) After two solid hours of sleep, I was awakened for the cocktail hour, which I opened by making my brother-in-law a Colony Special martini on the rocks. The final result was a bit heavy on the absinthe, but he declared it what he liked.

5a) Throughout this process, and gumbo for dinner, I was introduced to the Marvel Universe. Paul Rudd looks marvelous.

6) After dinner, Laura brought out a lot of photo albums, one of the principal reasons I made this trip. There were happy memories, uncomfortable memories, and lots of “Who is that?”

6a) Quite possibly the Golden Discovery of this initial foray was a set of index cards with Mother’s notes from the play given by all the grandchildren at Granny and Grampa’s 50th wedding anniversary in 1970.

7) Up at 5:30 Monday morning after a sound sleep, anticipating a 7:00 departure for Lago di Carlo so I could meet the baby, and so we could both go to the cemetery. My brother-in-law makes excellent coffee, and I was able to write my pages and have a bite of breakfast before we got on the road at 7:15.

8) At about 11 AM we pulled up to my beloved Seafood Palace after a long drive studded with family talk, local news, Stevie Nicks, the Bee Gees, and similar things. I’d only thought about Seafood Palace about half an hour from town. What a happy thing than Alex could bring the baby to join us!

8a) Walking in I was startled to see that a) every eye was on us, and b) they’d redecorated to have one very large room instead of two medium rooms, new tile flooring, and bright red cinderblock walls. But their chicken and sausage gumbo remains as excellent as always.

9) Miss Layla is quite simply adorable, and reminds me so much of her father, Younger Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged. Her big eyes bright with curiosity, her smile when she chooses to share it, her curling hair, her unhappy expression when teething a lemon wedge she insisted on trying — her father all over again.

9a) And her mother Alex is an ally in so many ways, not least her engagement in community theatre. So we had a lot to catch up on.

My childhood home. Notice how the roots of the oak tree have cracked the driveway. Notice also the tree growing right next to the front door. New since my time! And its roots mean no good to the foundation.

10) After lunch, Laura and I drove by our childhood home on Orchid Street. When we drove past in 2019, all the oak trees that didn’t quite cover our front yard when we were growing up had made a dark tunnel of the street — a proper oak alley. Now, after Hurricane Laura in 2020, several trees were just gone, but not the one in front of our old house. It absolutely dwarfs the house!

11) We drove to the baby’s house afterward, where Miss Layla’s playpen takes up almost the whole living room. Alex has painted it a rich dark blue and has decorated one wall with a mural of phosphorescent jellyfish. Another, in progress, is the shark from Jaws. My mother was so creative, though she never expressed herself in paint. I think she would have loved those jellyfish.

11) The cemetery was not far away. Pulling in, I was aware of the loss of trees here, too, especially in the heat. Laura had prepared bouquets of silk flowers (I think real flowers are not permitted at this cemetery) for our parents and Uncle Bill, our grandparents, and for Uncle Tom and Aunt Joan. Tentacles of St. Augustine grass were starting to encroach on Uncle Bill, requiring me to take action.

11a) I practice bibliomancy, and had brought a Bible from the guest room that I recognized from Mother’s house. Bibliomancy is all very well when you find something interesting and inspiring, but not when you end up at any of the Old Testament “begats” or, as happened, the Book of Ruth, which is a very long saga for a brief moment in a cemetery under blazing sunshine in 90+ degree heat. I ended up at Proverbs 24, which begins “Be not thou envious against evil men, neither desire to be with them. For their heart studieth destruction, and their lips talk to mischief.”

12) My sister remained remarkably patient, and I am so grateful.

13) To begin our return drive Laura went down Shell Beach Drive and past the Civic Centre and the CM Tower — the latter still mostly plywood after Hurricane Laura. Lago di Carlo has suffered much.

14) I am proud to say I did not fall asleep once on the return drive. I noticed a billboard I missed on the morning’s drive: “Welcome to Livingston Parish. We love our schools, our churches, and the Second Amendment. Enjoy your stay.” It seems people are talking about it.

15) Back in Mandeville, we three went to Times Grill for a burger. For me the place gave off vibes like Doyle’s — but very new, and very football — and the old fashioned I ordered was sooooo sweeeeeet I had to order a shot of whiskey to balance it.

16) Now Laura and I are watching Moonstruck, coincidentally a movie about family dynamics. My week is starting off very well indeed, and I am looking forward to more conversations, more old photos, and more laughs.

Tuesday Morning, 30 May -- A Tradition Ends

1) This week it’s Reunions back at ye Instytytte. Four years ago I went through it the last time. The weeks leading up to it were often more stressful than the events themselves. Despite some wonderful memories and experiences, I’m grateful to be focused on other things in the spring.

1a) I may celebrate with a drink later this week with a former colleague.

2) You know my love of Golden Age Hollywood; to paraphrase the snippy exercise instructor in The Women, “How can you avoid it?” At some point in the final week, I would email the team this immortal clip from 42nd Street of Warner Baxter’s pep talk to Ruby Keeler as the curtain goes up on Pretty Lady. (See it at the bottom of this entry.) It says so much about the spirit one needs to bring to Reunions as a staffer, and as a team member.

2a) Last week I realized that, after four years, there’s only one person left on the team(s) I used to work with directly. Everyone else has moved on to other things, either within or without ye Instytytte. So this morning, for the last time, I sent that message again; all good things must come to an end, including this tradition.

2b) And to my surprise, that colleague has already responded with a personal message! With so much going on! I was touched.

3) What Warner Baxter says is this: “Sawyer, you listen to me, and you listen hard. Two hundred people, 200 jobs, $200,000, five weeks of grind and blood and sweat depend upon you. It’s the lives of all these people who’ve worked with you. You’ve got to go on and you’ve got to give and give and give. They’ve got to like you, got to! Do you understand? You can’t fall down, you can’t! Because your future’s in it, my future, and everything all of us have is staked on you. All right now, I’m through. But you keep your feet on the ground, and your head on those shoulders of yours and go out, and Sawyer — you’re going out there a youngster, but you’ve GOT to come back a STAR!”

Sunday Afternoon, 28 May -- Wood and Insects

1) Back in the 1970s, my cousin Hal lent us an oddity, a cypress knee sliced in roughly one-inch slices to show the winding path of a carpenter bee. Mother thought it was fascinating — Nature! Science! — and I have to admit it was pretty cool to see how the bee had gnawed its way through almost every part of it, doubling back on itself a couple times. I remember it resting on a metal pie plate in the den throughout my teens. Eventually Hal reclaimed it for his own home.

2) Fast forward to 1988-90, the two years I lived in Allston Ghetto to the Stars. In a Harvard Avenue junk shop I bought a beat-up round wooden occasional table for $10. The round top was just scrap lumber sanded smooth, but the base was carved with a ridged urn that tapered into three elegant legs. It was the perfect size to display a white linen tablecloth my grandmother had given me.

2a) It served me well for many years, but at some point in the last five years I relegated it (without the tablecloth) to the back porch. It has weathered into a beautiful state of shabby gentility since then. I just love it.

3) What could these two wooden articles have in common? I think we know . . .

. . . and a telltale hole!

3a) Yesterday I opened the back porch for the season: rehanging the bamboo blinds, brushing off the sofa cushions, bringing up the café table and chairs, and placing that wooden table back in its place by the sofa. After a couple hours I noticed a tiny drift of what looked like wood shavings underneath that table, and recalled occasionally seeing similar last summer. The, shall we say, unnatural interest of a neighboring bumblebee in the tabletop also aroused memories of last summer and having to swat it away with a pillow. Wouldn’t you know it, there is a neat, entirely round hole underneath the tabletop. Something is in there!

3b) So as much as I love this table, I fear the time has come for me to “move it forward into the Universe” in order to preserve the rest of my wooden house.

Monday Morning, 22 May -- Cards, Larry, and Flowers

1) More purging and rearranging in the cellar has underscored what I already knew: most of what I have down there is papers, shoeboxes and plastic tubs full of papers. And a good 80% of it can be shredded. That can be my penance during the summer.

1a) In a small cardboard stationery box, among sheets of not-quite-used-up Avery labels, I found a sheaf of Christmas card envelopes — not all with the cards inside — that I received in 2003, my first Christmas in this house. Among the delights (a pencilled note from Younger Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged), some poignant reminders that we can’t know the future. One former colleague and her husband wrote full of hope for the future; that marriage ended in divorce. I found an envelope from a dear friend who died much too young; I wish the card had been there, too. Reminders that we need to celebrate every day.

2) Apparently today is Laurence Olivier’s birthday, so what a great to watch his Hamlet.

3) True spring weather today: clear, cool, green. The rhododendrons are blooming in the back of the house. At ye Instytytte they were always the sign that Commencement, and therefore Reunions, was unavoidably around the corner. Now, they convey merely beauty without excitement or anxiety.

Thursday Night, 18 May: The Cellar

1) Back from England, life goes on. Next week’s energy audit — I have to replace my HVAC system this summer — requires cleaning out the basement so that it’s possible even to approach the furnace. This morning I finally got started.

2) Things in the basement were deposited in haste, forgotten quickly, and encountered with delight, bewilderment, or frustration. Two hours work, though, resulted in greater order, and a great deal of trash. While there’s still a great deal more to do, the workmen will at least be able to get in there.

3) Among the ruins I found:

• A garbage bag with three blazers and two sweaters. One of the latter made me say “I wondered what happened to that!”

• Two missing boxes of Christmas ornaments, many of which were made by my grandmother.

• Two or three pieces of broken china. Will I have to take up kintsugi this year?

• A tabletop fountain I had wanted to bring back upstairs for some time.

• A clock a friend presented to me at the Debutante Party in 1999.

• Still packed in its box, the overhead light to Gramma’s piano.

• Lots of kitchen things that had been brought down before the 2020 renovation and forgotten.

• Curtain rods!

• Odd bits left over from bathroom and kitchen renovations: a box of tile, a faucet, fragments of shelves and such like.

4) There will certainly be a yard sale later this year, so please stay tuned. Daddy wants to get some cash for his trash.

Coronation Trip, Day Last: Homeward Bound

1) The outstanding feature of the Strand Palace rooms? Not just USB ports (a marvelous innovation to begin with), but outlets for American plugs! Having forgotten my adapter/converter thingy, I had to rely on whatever might be available wherever I was staying.

2) I took the Piccadilly Line all the way out to Heathrow Terminal 5, the end of the line. Only on leaving did I realize how very close my hotel was to Covent Garden.

2a) The journey went fairly quickly as I was reading The Secret Rooms.

3) Heathrow, once through security, was just as crowded as Leicester Square. Trudging about for some lunch, I saw a restaurant that might have been promising except that you had to download their app to access the menu, find a table on your own, and then order at a counter. How on earth can a solitary traveler manage that in an airport, when you can’t leave anything unattended?

3a) Good thing for me a found a Fortnum and Mason’s lunch counter! And I had the closest thing to a Brenda Frazier Special: a little glass of white wine and an elegant chicken and egg salad.

4) I did pass through the duty free shop. Almost the first thing I saw was a display of ye Tynkeray Flor de Sevilla gin — the same kind I ended up toting around the Barcelona airport for 36 hours last September! (I may never buy liquor at the duty free again.) As it happened, I had £30 in my wallet, and I ended up blowing it all at Fortnum and Mason’s shop.

4a) When I left home May 2 I found £3 plus a bit in change, which I remembered to bring with me. Returning, I discovered I still had . . . £3.10 in change!

5) After my gate was announced, I found out that a) the intra-terminal tram was not working, and that b) that meant I would be walking all the way to London to board my plane. Heathrow didn’t exactly cover itself in glory.

6) Also, thank goodness I got in line with the boarding group before mine was called. Because by the time my group was called, I was near the head of the line.

7) Six and a half hours across the Atlantic gave me plenty of time to finish The Secret Rooms, all 425 pages of it. I may never be able to read it again now.

8) We landed hard, but we landed safely. After an interminable wait for my suitcase, I finally got home on the T. Between Airport and Maverick on the Blue Line, someone was eager to ask me questions about airport transportation — I cannot imagine why.

9) Now snugly back in my home, I can hardly believe this long-contemplated trip has ended. So many beautiful moments, so many unexpected surprises. In the words of the late Stephen Sondheim, “I’m so glad I came.”

9a) But more importantly,

Then bravely cry with Dymoke bold,

“Long may the King triumphant reign!”

Or, if fair hands the sceptre hold,

Then braver still, “God save the Queen!”

Coronation Trip, Day Thirteen: Hampton Court

1) Up early after going to bed very late. I walked through the chilly gray dawn through the Embankment Gardens and across the Thames, ending up at Waterloo Station to catch the train to Hampton Court — my last scheduled activity before leaving for home tomorrow.

2) Across the aisle from me a young father was reading aloud from children’s books — one was about a horse called Sugarlump — to his two very young children.

Don’t stand in the driveway!

3) Hampton Court is quite prettily set up by the river. Please note that the entrance is a working driveway, cars coming and going, and you can’t stand in the center of the gateway for photos.

4) You will be very surprised to find out that I was quite early for my ticket time. I took a chance that they’d let me in beforehand, and I was right. (Not like last summer at the Alhambra and the Colosseum!)

It’s lavish, but I call it home.

5) On this Sunday, families with young children flocked to Hampton Court, which should be no surprise. Not only that, there was an extensive craft fair with food booths and whatnot in the large yew garden in back. Not only that, but a “band of players” was arriving to perform Shakespeare with Elizabeth I or something. The place was lively, and it turned out to be a high spot in my entire trip.

6) This palace is most often associated with Henry VIII (and Jane Seymour, who died there), but William and Mary also made it a principal residence. Throughout my wanderings I kept recalling scenes from The Private Life of Henry VIII, Forever Amber, and, more recently, The Favourite. I feel sure their designers took some sort of influence from Hampton Court.

7) Really . . . I wandered at will, finding first the chocolate kitchen off the Fountain Court, then the state apartments of William III (very Forever Amber all these), and then his privy apartments beneat them, a gallery of Restoration-era beauties, the state apartments of Queen Mary, the garden of the Chapel Royal, and finally the apartments of Henry VIII, including the last Great Hall built by an English king. The Hall was set with several long wide tables, with benches, and covered with tablecloths printed with fun facts about Tudor dining and cooking. And then galleries of portraits telling the story of the Tudor dynasty.

8) As well as a view of the Chapel Royal from Henry VIII’s pew, which is really just the balcony. A great deal of notice is given that this is a working church, not just another tourist attraction, and that photography is forbidden here. Suffice it to say that it’s gorgeous.

8a) Earlier, watching the “band of players” in the Clock Court (from a distance safe enough that they wouldn’t call on me), I noticed a man so very intent on taking photographs that he took zero notice of anyone in his way, including a petite Woman Older Than I who he may nearly have knocked over. Another man seemed to tell him off — the look on his face! — but the photographer was so very singleminded that he just shifted position. In Henry’s pew, he nearly elbowed me out of the way of a sign I was reading, but I was having none of it. Later I heard him asking the guide if there were postcards of the chapel in the shop; obviously he was disappointed he couldn’t take any photos in there.

9) There are so many beautiful gardens at Hampton Court! The garden full of yews at the back of the palace, the Privy Garden, the Pond Gardens, the largest grapevine in the world — in its own glass house, but with the roots in a big plot outside it — a “wilderness,” which the sign said was more formal than it’s planted now, and where courtiers could go to get “enjoyably lost.” Ahem.

One of the pond gardens.

10) And there is also the famous Hampton Court Maze, which I felt the need to walk in memory of Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough. Their comic memoir Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, of their college graduation trip to Europe around 1923, includes them blithely entering the maze as a conversation piece, getting hopelessly lost while the rain started, and then being yelled at by a man in a tower through a megaphone that they’d been in there too long and needed to get out. Everything happens to them in this book — shipwrecked in fog, measles, bedbugs, forced to play volleyball in their best clothes with H.G. Wells, accidentally spending the night in a whorehouse in Rouen, trying brandy alexanders at the Ritz Bar, buying gigantic fur capes — and getting lost in the Hampton Court maze! Look it up, you’ll love it.

In the maze.

10a) The maze was full of the sounds of young boys racing about, and of other, older people. It was fun! But I think it might be difficult to do with a companion because it really isn’t wide enough to walk two abreast. In one corner the yew hedges had been radically pruned back to almost nothing, so it was possible to see a bit of the action.

10b) If you go: when you get to the exit gate where it says “Way Out” with an arrow pointing to the left, do not turn left or go through the gate. You are almost at the center, so keep moving right. Trust me, I learned the hard way.

I made it!

11) Finally, there was the tennis court, the oldest in the world, and actively used. I witnessed four players in tennis white (not Restoration wigs) whacking the ball back and forth. Fun fact: the Earl of Wessex plays there!

12) I did also get into the kitchens (very Private Life of Henry VIII), which are quite something.

13) And then, back to London. The day had become quite warm, and I walked on the Waterloo Bridge back to my hotel and a much-needed NAP.

14) After which I lost myself wandering through the Covent Garden area, vaguely recognizing street names, and having some cicchetti at a little Italian place. And then a gin and tonic at the hotel.

15) Tomorrow, home! I can hardly believe this journey has taken place now, but it’s been absolutely wonderful.

One of the King’s Beasts at the entrance.

Coronation Trip, Day Twelve: London, Tea, and Opera

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.

Coronation Trip, Day Eleven: Last Day in Bath

1) Bath presents a quiet face of grey and cream in the crisp fog of a cloudy, early morning. I had the chance to contemplate it on the five-minute walk to the bus station, wondering if I could finagle a bus ticket to London on Saturday. Late the night before I learned that the railway strike, which was only ever going to be Friday, was officially extended into Saturday. It is likely my train will not run, and I have pre-arranged plans Saturday night and Sunday morning I don’t want to miss.

1a) This came to my attention just before bed the night before. The website for the railway I was traveling on had been taken down by the strikers. Definitive information about whether or not trains would be leaving Bath could not be found in any news source. Frequent attempts to book a bus ticket online met with failure because I have an American address and method of payment (this happened before with one of the railways). What I was lacking was a) knowledge, and b) certainty that I would actually get to London.

This beautiful building, beautiful in the dawn, is just across from the bus station.

1b) At the bus station I learned from a bus driver in a bus that there were no ticket terminals (as I had used at Heathrow), and that the closest ticket office was in Bristol.

1c) Wouldn’t you know it, just at that time my sweet Paulikins Whatsapped me a news article, which led to him taking care of everything in a twinkling. I am blessed.

1d) I will say only that the worst things in the world, the absolute worst, are being late, being misunderstood, and simply not knowing. It all leads to feeling powerless, and I got all three of ’em today.

2) So thank goodness I’d booked a two-hour slot at Thermae Spa this morning, just five minutes from my hotel. An hour in the rooftop pool contemplating the shade and sunshine, the roofs and steeples of Bath, and the collection of other tourists who wanted to take the waters soothed me to a better place. Blazing sunshine made me wish I’d brought my sunglasses up there.

Leaving the spa, where photography is so forbidden you must lock your phone in a special pouch before entering.

2a) Over that hour, the pool population almost doubled, from ~30 to almost 60. Mostly visitors to Bath, like me, mostly British (though one couple was speaking German), and a couple hairdos direct from The Mikado.

2b) A succession of steam rooms provided different levels of heat and scent (botanicals), and I would move from one to another as large family groups (of adults) would arrive and hold the door open for each other long enough to let the steam out. Oopsie!

3) With my afternoon unscheduled, I decided to check out the Holbourn Museum. En route I passed through Laura Place, the address of Lady Dalrymple and Hon. Miss Carteret in Jane Austen’s Persuasion. A nice little collection of 18th-century English portraits, Imari china, North German Renaissance paintings, and a gallery full of small things, from tiny and intricate ivory carvings to intaglios, coins, and portraits in miniature. I’d never seen magnifying glasses offered for viewing like this, but they did — what a great idea!

This could be Ann Miller!

4) I had a snack lunch there of a vegetarian sausage roll (should it even be called a sausage roll?) which came with a salad of blanched green beans. At first I sat outside, but the weather was “freshening” as they used to say at sea, and like my chips at Kensington Palace, I nearly lost some of my salad greens to Augusta Wynde.

5) After that, I wandered with the idea that at 5 PM I’d end up in the vicinity of the one gay bar in Bath. I ended up finding it well earlier than 5 — which is just as well, ‘cause they don’t open until 8, by which time I’ll have retired.

David Garrick as Jaffier and Susannah Cibber as Belvidera in ‘Venice Preserv’d,’ by Zoffany.

6) Mother always said “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” but when I saw Persephone Books, and that all their paperbacks are bound in an elegant unadorned pale grey, I just had to find out more! I ended up choosing three British novels by women authors, and having a lovely discussion with the clerk about my favorite British woman author, F. Tennyson Jesse.

7) After that, and committing Acts of Retail at a stationery store, I chose to tour Bath Abbey (which is right by the Roman Baths, and therefore moments from my hotel). My tour time coincided with an active and rhythmic youth choir rehearsal; like the steam room, the church didn’t turn out to be a contemplative space today. But Bath Abbey makes quite a thing of their being an active and engaged congregation, and the sheer number of children rehearsing (about 50ish) made a much better impression of the Body of Christ than the profusion of beautiful and severe Regency-era memorials lining the walls.

7a) I laughed when I saw one in the floor that began “This stone covers the Complicated Dust of . . . ”

8) Almost promptly at 5 I ducked into the Huntsman by my hotel for an old fashioned, and then on a whim, around the corner to Sally Lunn, “the oldest house in Bath,” for dinner. My whimsical reason for this (only I would think of this) is that the Tyler Administration is represented in The First Ladies Cookbook with a Sally Lunn cake, which was made with a specifically shaped mold.

8a) Well . . . they don’t have that cake on the menu, and the Sally Lunn Bun is basically an enlarged base (or top) of a hamburger bun lovingly coated with butter and . . . oh, something savory.

8b) This would be the Lobster Pot of Bath if it were larger and crowded, but the small dining room (distempered in yellow with sea-green woodwork and blue-and-white china hung from the walls) had the silence of the grave among the ten diners — except for the family of three sitting next to me. Adult daughter and aging parents, when the waiter brought the credit card thingy for them to pay their bill, he said “Just tap it or swipe it.” “Swipe it?” the father retorted. “Why would I want to steal it?” Before I could stop myself I barked out a laugh and said “I see what you did there!” And we all had a good laugh together.

9) Packing took less time than I expected. I’ll add my suit and dress shirt at the last minute tomorrow morning to spare them wrinkling before I wear them to the Royal Opera House tomorrow night. That is . . . if I get to London in time.

Coronation Trip, Day Ten: Bath, Day One

1) My first floor room (read: second floor) at the Abbey Hotel is elegant and comfortable: high ceilings, restrained colors, two tall windows overlooking a corner of the North Parade, and a bathroom with very flattering lighting. All it lacks is a writing desk, really.

1a) Even so, I have already started to destroy it. Yesterday I knocked a half full mug of tea off a night table; at least it landed in the trashcan! And this morning while opening the curtains I nearly took one down entirely. Obviously I will have to leave more than the usual gratuity for housekeeping.

2) Very good coffee at breakfast, along with eggs Benedict with yolks of deep orange, and superb almond croissants. The ground floor (read: first floor) breakfast room full of sunlight, marble tables, and old wooden chairs and leather-padded benches. I dawdled over The King Is Dead, Long Live the King! so long that I left a bit late for my 10 AM tour of No. 1 Royal Crescent.

The Circus.

3) Dashing through Bath with one eye on ye Gyygle Maps, I was remembering a Royal Oak lecture at the Athenaeum I went to back in the 1990s with my friend Mark that was all about Bath, recalling bits of it about specific places I was passing.

4) Finalmente, huffing and puffing a bit, I reached Royal Crescent. But, what’s this! The first house with a street number is 2! And the others are all even numbers! Where is this place I am supposed to be?!

4a) I had sped passed it. No. 1 is the house just off the Crescent, at its very tip. Oopsie!

Yup, that’s No. 1 Royal Crescent at far right.

5) And I had also mistaken the opening time with the start of the tour, so I almost broke down the door by accident; I certainly didn’t expect it to be chained when I opened it. Oopsie again!

6) The nice young lady radiating a smiling welcome got me all set up when the doors officially opened, and I was then able to embark on the self-guided tour. Ingeniously arranged and planned, each of the rooms includes audio (and sometimes video) conversations between a fictional family and their servants occupying this house during a Season in 1770s Bath: two parents, both rather conservative; two daughters, one a bluestocking, the other “in need of a husband;” one son, already embarking on a rake’s progress.

The withdrawing, with sisterly projections.

6a) In the dining room on the first floor, the parents are seen and heard from video screens mounted as gold-framed portraits. Upstairs in the withdrawing room, the two daughters are seen projected on the wallpaper, as is the music one of them plays on the harpsichord. And in the gentleman’s bedroom on the floor above that, the father is seen in one panel of a three-panel mirror, and the son in another. Most surprising, in the basement scullery, a dishtowel or flour sack or something is stretched over the kitchen table, on which is projected the hands of the cook as she makes her famous chocolate puffs, with all the ingredients there. She and the kitchen maid are heard gossiping about the family. I thought the whole thing was cleverly done.

7) After that, I had the luxury of time, wandering through nearby gardens and down unconsidered streets, seeing nothing that looked like the way I came. This led me to the home of Sarah Siddons as well as a stationery store called Meticulous Ink (in which Acts of Retail were committed).

7a) And I realized that Bath reminded me of Malta because of all the sandstone/limestone used in building.

7b) I also randomly turned into, hmm, I think it was called the Bath Markets, an interior bazaar of a number of stalls vending all sorts of things. Including a leather goods shop that, to my delight, had a deep red leather belt that is mighty close to my new oxblood Doc Martens. They say your belt and shoes should always match, but these shoes have not been easy to match. This purchase will get a lot of use.

8) Unexpectedly I was able to pop back up to my room. Before leaving I hoped to explain things to the front desk about the curtains, but I had to wait while a family of three was checked in by the one clerk on duty. Then a woman came down from upstairs saying that someone had been in her room and packed all her things and was cleaning, and why was this happening — and I knew I should get out of there.

9) Then to the Roman Baths, an essential visit. I didn’t use an audio guide, just followed the trails through this beautiful ruin that begins on a balcony overlooking the main pool on three sides. As I was nearing the end I saw three women talking together and heard the words “Jamaica Plain.” Those words only come together in one context. “Excuse me, but did you say ‘Jamaica Plain?’ I live by Doyle’s.” Turns out two of these ladies, a couple, are also in JP! And they are friends of one of my colleagues from ye Instytytte! What are the chances?! We had a very high-energy conversation.

Neighbors!

9a) The third lady, who they had just met, and I ended up having a separate conversation of interest in which we discovered that we are each writers writing for our own websites. And there may be an opportunity for collaboration. What are the chances?! This was absolutely delightful.

10) When I say the Roman Baths tour was interesting, that does not mean I retained much knowledge, only the experience. But one thing I did retain was that everyone of all conditions met there and used the baths as equals: rich, poor, etc.

10a) As at No. 1 Royal Crescent, video projections on the stone walls told the story of how the baths were used for socializing, bathing, and exercising. And I also tasted a bit of the spa water, offered from a fountain with paper cone cups: warm and flat and a bit metallic. As Fred MacMurray said in Double Indemnity, “Maybe a little rum would get this up on its feet.”

11) Between the tour and afternoon tea I wandered through bits of Bath, seeing the North Parade (which is a private pleasure ground one pays to access, not a public park) and the Pulteney Bridge. Some enormous tree trunks have stuck in the weir downstream from the bridge. I bought nail clippers in a pharmacy over 200 years old with a large quantity of its original fittings still there. (The state of my nails has become appalling in the last week.)

12) Tea at the Pump Room, fabled in song and story as part of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, was the one indispensable thing I had to do in Bath. I had lingered a bit outside, window shopping, before going in about ten minutes before my reservation . . . at the end of a queue of about 20.

12.a) From the moment I walked in, my expectations were exceeded. The handsome, rather dashing maitre d’ checked me off the list (after complimenting my hat and observing it matched my shoes) and directed a waitress to seat me at my table near the front of the room. I was brought a flute of English sparkling wine, and eventually a beautiful pot of Darjeeling, an oblong plate of sandwiches, and an étagere of expected and original tea goodies.

12.b) And the music! A trio — violin, cello, piano — sounded off from the the little built-in stage. Social media had put it into my head that Fred Astaire’s birthday was this week, and I’ll bet I was the only one present who recognized the entire soundtrack to Swing Time, including the waltz. A little later my heart spasmed when they launched into “Jalousie,” my very favorite tango — yes, even more than “La Cumparsita.”

12.b.i) At one point they played “Happy Birthday” and we all applauded for whoever it was.

12.c) Remember dahlings, scones are broken by hand, not cut with a knife.

12.d) Considering the importance of this room to society of the Regency, its Provincetown equivalent is unquestionably the Boatslip.

Christian was playing around with one of the photos he took of me in Leamington Spa.

13) For dinner (tea food, no matter how much of it there is, will not carry one all the way to breakfast), I went to an Italian place near the hotel. Etiquetteer has said that, if the server doesn’t understand your drink order, change your order. But a dry martini is so basic that I dug in my heels. “A martini is a cocktail with only two ingredients . . . ” “An espresso martini?” “No, just a regular martini with gin and dry vermouth . . .” “. . . ” “V-E-R-M-O-U-T-H.” “And tonic?” “[pause] No, that’s a gin and tonic.” She ended up bringing over the bartender, who understood. When it arrived, it was beautiful.

13a) My pollo e salsiccia was also beautiful.

14) Tonight I am staying in to write and watch a movie for the first time in just over ten days. Something Anglophilic, I’m sure.

15) Today has just been the best day!

Coronation Trip, Day Nine: Travel to Bath

1) Anxiety threaded its way through my train travel from Coventry to Bath this morning, a thread that began forming just before bed the night before when I realized that my tickets were dated for the day I bought them, two months ago, and not for today. Cursing my idiocy, the octopus of British train companies, and also their bewildering, inconsistent, and non-intuitive online ticketing systems, I rebooked.

1a) The good news is, I was able to keep roughly to my original timetable.

1b) But it did mean changing trains twice instead of once, and I made my first connection with about 45 seconds to spare.

2) En route I finished 1939: The Last Season, which felt like a thumbnail overview seasoned with memoirs I’d already read. What I did not really know about that added to my understanding of this period was the sinking of the Thetis submarine, the Eton vs. Harrow cricket match (which Harrow won for the first time in 30 years), and that one of the films Queen Elizabeth chose to show on the ship on the way over to Canada was Charlie Chan in Monte Carlo.

3) Finalmente, I arrived in Bath, and my last anxiety — that my ticket would not work at the turnstile because it hadn’t in Coventry — melted away when I saw the turnstiles already open.

At the Huntsman for lunch. Not the coronation lapel pin Paul and Christian gave me.

4) My hotel was a five minute walk away, and since my room wasn’t quite ready yet, I went next door to the Huntsman pub for a bit of lunch. The day had turned sunny, but it was so cold I finally had to wear my overcoat for the first time since I landed.

5) My friend James lives near Bath; we haven’t seen each other since January of ‘20. He arrived about half an hour after I checked in. We had a good cup of tea at the hotel, and then a good old fashioned at the Huntsman to fuel our catch-up.

6) Once he headed home, I realized I needed some dinner before places closed. On my neighborhood journey for sustenance I acquired the admiration of a homeless man camping on the steps of a church.

6a) Bath is an authentically old-looking town, so I was surprised after turning a couple corners to find myself in an open air mall of gleamingly clean sandstone and glass fronting a lot of stores to be found everywhere in the world. So perhaps Bath is less Provincetown than Martha’s Vineyard?

7) Eventually I lighted on a place called Square, where I enjoyed a beautiful prosciutto and chicken terrine (garnished with a large section of braised leek) and chicken supreme with superb buttery potatoes. I enjoyed it all with the opening chapters of The King Is Dead, Long Life the King! by Martin Williams.

8) Returning, I realized I’d made a wide circle in the wrong direction; a great deal I’m already planning to do is mere steps from my hotel! I passed the Roman Baths and the Pump Room, both of which I’m scheduled to enjoy tomorrow.

9) Bath is going to be a delight, and I am so glad I’m here.