Part One is here.
Part Two is here.
Part Three is here.
Part Four is here.
Day 13, Saturday, was a mellow day. A friend of Patrick's had given him four tickets to the Arsenal-Blackpool soccer game that day, and he was keen to go and experience the madness that is British football. I would love to have gone, but decided that Tess, James, and Hope should be Patrick's companions. They set off for Emirates Stadium for a grand adventure.
Meanwhile, Christian and I took Daniel and Anne to the playground around the corner from the house. It was great: a sturdy, high fence, great toys, and a setting right on the bank of the Thames. Anne and Daniel played to their heart's content, and then we walked home. I got all the laundry done and fixed dinner. The soccer fans came home and reported on the rout of Blackpool by Arsenal. I had asked for a cool Arsenal jersey, but P said that nothing on sale looked like something I'd actually wear. No worries.
Sunday we went back to the Hyde Park ward. After Sacrament Meeting, we chatted with some friends--there are tons of Americans, specifically NYC ex-pats, in that ward--then left to go to the Tate. It was a long walk from the Hyde Park, but I love to walk, and it was a beautiful day. Most of the family shares my fondness for long rambles, but Daniel would much rather not, in most cases. About halfway there, he said to me through gritted teeth, "This is the worst day of my life. You are ruining my day." I laughed hard, which incensed him. He rallied after we stopped at a park for our traditional sandwiches and cookies. And he loved the Tate.
How could he not? 500 years of British (and some international) art. I tried hard not to let anyone see me crying as we walked around the Pre-Raphaelite room. Those paintings speak to my heart, and I loved seeing them again. I got myself together as we walked through ensuing rooms.
I love how my children respond to art, from Anne's pointing out of every last dog (you'd be surprised how many dogs there are in famous paintings), to Christian's deep appreciation of works depicting historical scenes. Everyone had things they adored and wanted to show to others.
In the great hall, there was an installation of two works by Fiona Banner, basically two full-size WWII aircraft changed and manipulated in different ways. Daniel was out of his mind (as were the bigger boys). And yes, the Tate had a great children's trail. We hit the gift shop for postcards, and P bought me a lovely big book on the Pre-Raphaelites. Then we got sodas in the basement cafe and headed for home.
Have I told you about my collection of art postcards? Seventeen and a half years ago, when I was pregnant with Christian, and Patrick and I went to France for the first time together, I bought postcards of the art I saw and cherished. When I got home, I put them all in a photo album, and it became a quiet book of sorts for my kids. At following museum visits, whether in London, NYC, Rome, or Springville, I'd add to the collection. It's now quite large, and the kids love looking through all the beautiful, quirky, and interesting work in the book.
Monday, Day 15. Last year in Paris, P took the Big Three into the city for some grown-up-type fun for a day. This year, it was my turn. P stayed in Twickenham with Tess, Daniel and Anne, and I headed for London with my big kids.
Our first stop was the Persephone bookstore in Bloomsbury. Persephone publishes forgotten works that deserve a second life, mostly 20th-century, mostly by women. I've ordered from them online, but had never been to the shop before. Bliss. I picked out three of their dove-gray-bound books to add to my collection: The Children Who Lived in a Barn, by Eleanor Graham; The Shuttle, by Frances Hodgson Burnett; and The Fortnight in September, by R.C. Sherriff. Delightful.
Persephone is just blocks from The British Museum, and I'd never been there before, so that's where we went next. The Rosetta Stone is a marvel. The rest of that wing was packed with tourists from around the globe, and the collection is very similar to that of the Egyptian Wing at NYC's Met. So we went upstairs to the third floor, where there was a special exhibit of 500 years of clocks. Christian has loved clocks since he was tiny, so this was a huge hit. All the clocks were fantastic. On the way to and from that exhibit, we walked through rooms with artifacts from Roman and Saxon hoards: treasure and weapons of all kinds, gloriously displayed. Hope and I could have stayed there forever, but we had other places to see.
We got a taxi and went for lunch at Byron Burgers. FABULOUS. As good as Shake Shack, and that's saying a lot. We had a great time stuffing ourselves, and it was a nice switch from our usual ham and cheese sandwiches.
We waddled out of Byron and into Covent Garden. Magical: shops with perfumes and hats and painted Venetian masks and Victorian puppet theaters; musicians of excellent caliber busking for enthusiastic crowds; lovely sights and sounds and smells everywhere. Hope was in seventh heaven, and the boys liked it, too.
We wended our way over to a really great part of London--the little side streets north of Trafalgar Square--Cecil Court, New Row, and St Martin's Lane. Here there are lots of great little shops with quirky owners and tons of atmosphere. We went to a Victorian-style sweet shop, with shelves and shelves of large glass jars filled with toffees, fizzies, and other lovely things. The kids had a great time picking out things to go in their 100-gram bags. The elderflower fizzies were my favorite, and toffee is like crack for me.
We browsed through Waterstones, where I bought even more books. We went in shops that had embroidered owls and mugs with dogs on them and and funky canes and Edwardian ashtrays. Then we went to two stores that specialize in antique engravings. I bought a couple of great gifts and a lovely engraving of Blenheim Palace for us. Both shops had eccentric owners, very entertaining to chat with.
Another store specialized in antique medals and stamps. Here, James finally found his souvenir. We told the kids they could each have one souvenir and one T-shirt on the trip. The art postcards and our tradition of buying a Christmas ornament on every trip had already been taken care of. Anne and Tess and Daniel had all gotten their souvenirs way back at Windsor, Hope had gotten a cool Beatles tote bag in Liverpool, and Christian had gotten a John Lennon-style black cap at a coffee shop near Abbey Road. Only James remained.
The very coolest medals were far too expensive, but he did finally find a bronze WWI Belgian Cross of Honor that we could afford. He wanted to come home and pin it to his Scout shirt, but I told him we'd find a nice display case for it instead. He was happy.
Weary from our prowling, we got drinks at Trafalgar Square and sat by the fountains, where a homeless Turkish man with kind eyes hit on me in a very polite way. Christian muttered as we walked away, "We can't take you anywhere." But he was kidding around, and I laughed hard.
I took the kids back to Waterloo Station and put them on the train for Twickenham. Carmen had freed up her evening to see Patrick and me, so the plan was for the big kids to go home and babysit and for Patrick to come into London and meet Carmen and me at a restaurant. This meant I had two whole hours to myself! Lovely.
I walked from Waterloo over to the Tate Modern and went through the Surrealist wing. Good stuff, but very crowded. I left after not very long and sat on a padded bench by the Thames and read and ate toffee. I had fantastic views of St Paul's across the river, and the late afternoon light was once again golden and dreamlike.
We had a terrific dinner with Carmen at a restaurant called Livebait. I recommend. I had oysters (delish), Dover sole (exquisite), and sticky toffee pudding (not the best, but quite good). I adore sticky toffee pudding, but hadn't yet had any on this trip. Mission accomplished.
Day 16: Our last full day in England. I wanted to finish with a bang and do something that everyone would love. I felt like we'd seen everything in London that the little kids could handle, so I opted for Arundel Castle, which is an easy 90-minute train ride down to the South Downs in West Sussex. What magnificent country, and the weather was fantastic--easily our best day, weather-wise.
Arundel Castle is still the home of the Duke of Norfolk, so visits are run differently than those at Windsor or Hampton Court. We got our tickets and children's trails (this was the first time we had to pay for the trails) and noticed a sign that read "Philip's Zoo. Guinea Pigs, rabbits, goats, pigs, and Shetland ponies. 50p per person or 1.50 for a family of four." I was intrigued and mentally filed that info away for later; I knew that would be a great break for Daniel and Anne, at the very least.
We ate our sandwiches on a lovely lawn next to a huge magnolia tree that was in bloom. Then we went to the FitzAlan Chapel. The tombs, the carvings, the windows. So. Glorious. I have FitzAlan ancestors, so this was moving on several levels for me.
Next, we went to the gardens. At the entrance to the kitchen garden, a pretty woman about our age saw Patrick with Anne, and asked whether our children would like to go to the petting zoo. Business was slow, apparently, and she was recruiting visitors. We happily agreed. At the entrance, a tan teenager with a mop of sun-blond hair introduced himself as Philip and showed the kids all the animals. Everyone was enchanted. Patrick asked Philip about himself and the origins of the zoo. He answered that he lived at the castle and that he took care of the zoo whenever he wasn't at boarding school (he was 14). Recognition began to dawn for me.
The pretty woman, who was Philip's mother, was warm and lovely and asked us lots of questions. She was thrilled that we had so many children; she had five herself, Philip being the youngest. We also met Isabel, her second youngest. We eventually said goodbye, and as we walked away, Patrick muttered to me, "Do you think they're the caretakers?"
"No," I answered. "Did you hear her ultra-posh accent? I think that was the Duchess."
"It can't be," Patrick replied. But I was convinced.
And my suspicions were confirmed once we went inside the castle. After touring the medieval motte-and-bailey and the 17th-century "Civil War" sections, we got to see the part of the castle the current Duke of Norfolk and his family use today--the sitting rooms, the gigantic ballroom, and the bedrooms. On one table, I saw a photo of the pretty woman we had met at the zoo, much younger, with a handsome man. On another, I found a photo of Philip, Isabel, and what must be their older siblings.
(And when we got home? Google confirmed it for me. Philip is none other than Lord Philip Fitzalan-Howard, and his mother is Georgina Fitzalan-Howard, Duchess of Norfolk. The family has been devoutly Catholic for centuries, and one Duke, Philip Howard, was even sainted due to his martyrdom during the Reformation. Hence the five children and Georgina's unusual delight at our large family. A brush with nobility--what a thrill for us!)
The formal gardens and kitchen gardens were spectacular. The lived-in portion of the castle was grand, but also very comfortable and lived-in-looking. Even without our exciting meeting, Arundel Castle now rivals Hampton Court as my favorite spot in England. A complete lack of crowds, so much to see, and the gorgeous backdrop of the South Downs: Arundel for the win!
We toured the rose garden and the nearby cathedral, then took the train back to Twickenham. We packed up, did a little tidying, and crashed after one last episode of Lost, Season 2. (We had gotten through most of the season in the evenings with the big boys.)
Then it was up bright and early the next morning to head for Heathrow. As nightmarish as our flight to London was? That's how easy and peaceful our return was. Minimal lines; no hassles with our many bags; a more than decent breakfast at an airport restaurant; and a remarkably calm, docile Anne for the 7.5-hour flight. I even watched two movies while she slept on my lap.
Our driver was there to fetch us after we went through Customs; there was no traffic on the way home. We got home at about 3:30 p.m. to a spanking clean house. I supervised the unpacking, and we got 95% done with it by the time we crashed early that evening. Another wonderful family adventure-turned-memory!