Warwick Castle

     Warwick Castle is an imposing fortress from the outside, and an excessive display of 18^th century conspicuous consumption in the state rooms inside--as well as a great photo op. Strategically located on the Avon river, it has been a fortress in one form or another for twelve hundred years, with most of the current castle built during the late middle ages. The Castle is most impressive as a medieval fortress. It was a scene of mighty battles from the time of William the Conqueror and figured actively in the 15^th Century War of the Roses.

 The castle was purchased in 1978 by the Madam Tussaud (Museum) Group, and wax figures and recorded voices dominate many of the display rooms. I found it a bit cheesy. On the other hand, with dozens of small boys brandishing wooden swords and almost every girl queued for the princess tour. I’m probably not the target audience.

horses' tail and head both wag when you pass

     After the War of the Rose and with the Tudors arrival, the castle fell into disrepair. Its next stage in history begins with James I giving it to Sir Fulke Greville, (a politician of merit and a poet and dramatist) in 1604. A descendent was made the Earl of Warwick in 1759. Between those two events, the place was steadily transformed into a family estate—interupted by the Civil War in the 17^th Century and a great fire in the 19th. It stayed in the Greville family for over 370 years, until it was sold in 1978. 

Among the family stories we heard, the one that most stuck with us was about a studio copy of a Van Dyke portrait of Charles I and his wife Henrietta Maria (still a very expensive painting). This was initially a very large painting with both figures full-bodied, but the Earl had a portrait gallery where all portraits were of the same size in beautiful gold frames. So he cut out part of the two figures and hung them on each side of the fireplace. The point was that ostentatious displays of wealth were more important, though they did leave unscarred grand paintings by Van Dyke, Rubens, Raphael, and Holbein. In various ways, displays dominate the state and family rooms. However, later generations of the family go deep into debt and now the house belongs to Madame Tussaud.

Wax Duke of Wales on left

     Along with the fine buildings are a number of attractions outside the walls—the engine room where electricity was first generated by the flow of the river Avon, an impressive trebuchet, a siege catapult that could launch fireballs (we missed the demonstration), an archery range, well-designed gardens, including one with a warning:

      

Lord Leyceter Hospital

    We spent a little time walking the town of Warwick. St. Mary’s Church contains the tomb of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, who oversaw the trial and execution of Joan of Arc; Robert Dudley, long-time suitor of Elizabeth I (who gave him Warwick Castle as a gift), and other nobles. The original tower and nave were destroyed by a great fire in 1694, but the church remains a fine instance of English Gothic, especially from the inside.  Lord Leycester Hospital was built for pre-Reformation United Guilds of Warwick; the buildings were converted after the Civil War into a refuge for pensioner soldiers and their families. It still serves as a home for ex-servicemen. It also has a small tearoom with a large fireplace, where we had a break for tea and scones.

     As we toured the Castle and the grounds, I’m sorry to admit that Monty Python lines kept recurring in my head, partly because the place looks like a film set and partly because of the pervasive pop entertainment (mediaeval mayhem, wicked warwick, mike the knight). Upon seeing a wax knight brandishing a sword, “what, it’s just a flesh wound;” upon looking out from Guy Tower “English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person! I blow my nose at you;” in the boxwood gardens, “Knights of Ni, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery;" and in the bird display (you see this one coming), “What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" Now I’ve got you started, haven’t I….The place was made for it.

Cotswolds

     We toured the northern Cotswolds for two days last week. We stopped at about a half-dozen towns, visiting some churches, town squares, pubs and cafes, and a market. The towns are old—some date to pre-Norman invasion, lots have 12^th to 15^th century building and hosted momentous events usually during the Civil War. They are well known for being constructed of local limestone, the same stone with which many of the Oxford colleges are built. It is a golden brown color, darker and warmer than the paler version we saw in Bath.

The Cotswold Arms, Burford

 

     In Burford and Chipping Camden we visited beautiful old churches, St John the Baptist  and St James. Both were funded and built by wealthy wool merchants who dominated the area. Along with others in the area, they are known as “wool churches.” Both of the churches we visited were full of stories. In Burford, one of the highlights is a large, prominent wall memorial to Henry VIII’s barber (there is no escaping the presence of Henry anywhere it seems). At first I found it comic that the barber had such local standing, but then remembered that the he could also act as a surgeon and drew blood (remember barber's poles?--grandchildren, ask your parents). There is also a plaque recognizing three Levellers who were executed outside the church for leading a rebellion against Oliver Cromwell (political leftists; they weren’t royalists). I read many Diggers and Levellers’ pamphlets and broadsides years ago; they were for greater democratic participation (not just the propertied class) and economic equality.  It was moving to see a place where they had been in action.  And so much for church sanctuary when you are in a religious/economic battle with Oliver Cromwell.

St John the Baptist, Burford

St James, Chipping Campden

In Chipping Campden at St. James, we were greeted by a friendly, older man who asked us where we were from, and he mentioned that he had family in the States. So we worked through some geography—he had a niece in Northern Virginia, well specifically Fairfax, in some small town called Herndon. Small world, though we don’t know the niece.

     Chipping Camden was one of our favorite places. Like the other Cotswold towns we visited, the town square was once the site of sales and auctions of sheep herds, and a number of now quaint little lanes that come into the square were formerly used to manage the sheep. As with the other towns, one of the main streets was Sheep Street.  The industry still dominates the area, with large flocks of sheep in every vista--though we didn’t come across any sheep herds on the road as we have in Ireland.

     We started our morning in Chipping Campden in a lovely little tea shop for coffee and tea. The ladies there were quite amused by my choice of apple pie for breakfast; what’s funny about that? It's all part of my explorations. Across from the shop was a medieval outdoor market. One of the reasons we were there was because of a “foodie” market that day as part of a week-long celebration of local foods in the Cotswold. There were about ten stalls with interesting people and a nice range of local meat and cheese and liquor and oil as well as imported tea and olive oil. But it wasn’t what he hoped. 

 

     A seemingly more successful local industry than locovore food was the remnants of a turn of the last century arts and crafts movement. The Court Barn Museum near St James Church has a well designed exhibit of work by bookbinders, potters, silversmiths, furniture makers, sculptors, and jewelers who worked in the area in the early 1900s. They had moved from a guild of handicrafts in London to celebrate rural life and hand made goods. The guild didn’t flourish, but decedents of some of the original artists are still fashioning beautiful pieces.

     The loveliest scenes for us were in Lower and Upper Slaughter, two very small towns—just a few dozen houses at most—about a mile apart. The gently rolling landscape, cut into various rectangles by hedgerows, the houses surrounded by neat, small gardens, and of course the sheep scattered across the meadows create an ideal pastoral scene. There is a walking path between the two, which we planned on taking, but when we saw no one on it and a number of people walking the road between towns, we decided it may be too muddy for us without wellies. So we drove. The largest building in each hamlet has been converted into a hotel. I guess that’s the alternative to keeping the estate and opening it to tourists.

     Unrelated to this post, but thought I’d mention it because it kept coming up on this Cotswold trip: I’m trying to understand the difference between “lovely” and “brilliant” as responses. Give a clerk the right amount of change and he or she might use either word in place of “thank you,” which is what we say in the States. We overheard someone ask, “where’s the loo?” and after being given directions, the answer was “brilliant,” but when someone gets an answer to whether there are more croissants, it seems to be “lovely.”  The difference doesn’t seem to be situation, age or gender, or even class, though I’m still wondering about that. In any case it is lovely how they use the world brilliant around here (maybe it’s Oxford?).

 

Wolsey

Thomas Wolsey

     On Sunday we toured Hampton Court Palace, on Monday night we dined at Christ Church, and Wednesday we will watch the next installment of Wolf Hall on BBC television. So what do they have in common? Cardinal Wolsey, of course! We have been hearing about Thomas Wolsey (1473-1530) since we arrived, and this week we got a greater appreciation of why. He designed and lived in Hampton Court Palace and founded and designed Cardinal College. Both were taken from him by Henry VIII in 1528 when Wolsey was unable to arrange/broker an annulment for Henry from his first wife, Katherine, who was also the aunt of the Holy Roman Emperor at the time (awkward).  Wolf Hall is a recent, popular novel about these events and is currently the must-see TV in Britain.

     As a Cardinal, Wolsey was a powerful figure in the Roman Catholic Church. As Lord Chancellor, he was the second most powerful man in England. And since Henry often had his mind on other things, Wolsey ruled the land in many ways. He was rightly famous for bringing England to the table (and even hosting the table) for various European alliances and treaties. He was also ruthless in his dealing with the English nobility and clergy. Live by the sword and the cross, die by….except Wolsey died of natural causes—in Leicester—before he had to answer to charges of treason.

 

     Hampton Court Palace is a huge, impressive place with beautiful, elaborate gardens. It was a home for kings and queens for almost two centuries, with each royal family (Tudor, Stuart, Hanover) remodeling and adding to the palace. The original design was Wolsey’s, and he built upon a former manor house on the site. Along with his own suite of rooms, he built ones for Henry, his (then) queen Katherine, and daughter (later queen) Mary.  The Base Court is the first of multiple courtyards (seems each family had to add one), and it is surrounded by forty two-room apartments. 

     The Tudor kitchen for all these people is quite a story (well, of course it is, it’s about food), built to prepare 600 meals twice a day and many more on “feast” days. Henry was committed to conspicuous consumption for his guests, especially foreign dignitaries, and the Lord, well at least the Cardinal, provided—in great quantities.

  

Tom Tower

     Christ Church, which I wrote about a few weeks ago—as I’m sure you recall—was originally Cardinal College, then King’s College when Henry appropriated it, then Christ Church when Henry created the Church of England. The college tie has little cardinal’s mitres on it in recognition of the college origins.  Wolsey was an Oxford graduate and it seems the place was close to his heart.

 

    We had the great pleasure of being asked to supper at the Great Hall of Christ Church. The evening began with champagne in the advancement office where we met our hosts, Bob Schuettinger and Mallory Factor, who are associate members of Christ Church (each college member can bring one guest to dinner). We then proceeded to the Senior Common Room (faculty lounge), a large room with a fire going at one end, leather sofas and chair and tables placed for small group conversations, and a bar at which we were served sherry. We met some faculty and guests, all of whom were most courteous; the faculty wore academic robes. Oh how I wish I could have been so gauche as to pull out my cell phone camera. 

Great Hall

We proceeded to the high table in the Great Hall. Students were at their tables. We stood behind our chairs for grace (in Latin), then were seated. The setting is unforgettable, though it was diminished because there is scaffolding set up to repair the roof. The meal was superb. The place and the event exuded privilege. The diners were interesting and lively.

      After supper, we adjourned back to the Senior Common Room for coffee, port or brandy. Professor Graham Ward, the very distinguished and very gracious Regius Professor of Divinity invited us to see his rooms at the College. What another pleasure to see his set of rooms—seminar room, living room, study, back lawn—which may have belonged to Cardinal Wolsey himself. The study was formerly the Oratory and below in the basement may have been intended to be Wolsey’s crypt. Now, it had some cement shelves, which were installed during World War 2 to store the college’s precious holdings of champagne and port. We left the rooms and walked across the courtyard as the Tom Tower bell tolled 101 times, in honor of the original scholars of the college, and the near full moon had a ice ring around it. A magical moment and scene. We were enchanted. 

London, part 1

     We spent four days in London this past weekend, taking a bus there on Friday morning and back Monday night. We saw probably 8 of the 10 consensus must-see places. London is a great, varied, lively city, full of commerce, tourism, history, and chock full of high and pop culture, often on the same block. We were surprised by the number of tourists, mostly Europeans and Brits, here now at the end of January. The stretch from the Palace of Westminster (the houses of Parliament and Big Ben) to the London Eye across the Waterloo bridge was packed every time we ended up in that area. The picture below is a little deceiving with the mostly empty sidewalk on the Waterloo bridge—we were all on the other side of the street, with many taking this same picture.

 

     In that part of town is also the single greatest spot for us in London:  Westminster Abbey

            

http://www.westminster-abbey.org/

 No other place can capture so much history of Britain—its kings and queens, poets and writers, explorers and scientists, musicians and artists, and so on. What a treasure. In one corner is the grave of Elizabeth I, buried with Mary, her sister and rival, in another is a statue of Shakespeare, looking every bit the greatest man of letters—I'm showing my interest in the late Tudor era, but one could fine similar examples throughout the centuries in various corners and chapels. We took the audio tour, with Jeremy Irons speaking ever so elegantly about Britain’s regal heritage. It took almost two hours and one sign of just how rich the place is that great monuments for people like Isaac Newton or Captain Cook aren’t even mentioned. And it’s not all just statues and plaques. The building is magnificent inside and out, though you can’t take pictures of the inside.

     Down the street is the Churchill museum and the government WWII underground offices; this might have been the most surprising experience for us. We hadn’t really expected much, but found it hugely informative and entertaining—Churchill’s famed appetite for good food, alcohol, and cigars, for example--and quite moving.  These people worked long hours for long years in tight quarters with the understanding that a direct bomb hit would bury them. We are looking forward to seeing Churchill’s boyhood home, Blenheim Palace, which is near here and opens back up in March.

 

     Just a little farther down the street were the Horseguards across from St. James Park.  We didn’t stay for the actual changing of the guard but did see them parade past after finishing their tour. It was a sign of the power of British traditions that downtown traffic was stopped for probably ten minutes while this group of horses and riders left the scene.

     Buckingham Palace is at the other end of the Park. We didn’t stay for that change of guards either. The crowd was substantial, and one must arrive long before to get a clear line of sight. We were told that on a good summer’s day, there can be 15,000 people waiting to see the spectacle. No offense intended, but we’ll spend our time elsewhere; once again so much to see and do.

     The juxtaposition of old and new that we saw some in Bath and a little (very little) in Oxford, is seemingly everywhere in London. From the London Eye, the skyline is full of cranes as well as historic spires and new skyscrapers. The bulk (yes) of the big new buildings are on the south side of the Thames or east toward where the recent Olympics were held, but also in the “City” near St Paul’s and the Tower of London. Locals have given the most prominent structures nicknames like Gherkin, Cheesegrater, Prawn, Walkie-Talkie, and Shard (of glass, which became the official name of that building). Almost every view from inside the Tower of London has a impressive building of glass in the background.

     Despite the soaring structures in the neighborhood, the Tower of London remains an impressive place. We were too late for last year’s red poppy installation honoring the dead of The Great War; what a sight it must have been.

 

     Even today, the moat and the outside walls are impressive, and one can quickly imagine an earlier time when this was an impregnable fortress. Inside, we joined a tour by a Yeoman Warder (no longer, and never should have been, called a Beefeater according to our guide Steve).  Informative and entertaining, but much of the attention was on beheadings, with Anne Boleyn, inevitably it seems, taking center stage. We also learned Rudolf Hess, the deputy Fuhrer to Hitler, was also a prisoner here in 1941. It was a cold Sunday morning and since we are likely to be back with friends and family, we didn’t tour everything, but we did see the crown jewels. So many precious gems and gold that it is almost numbing, but only almost. We didn’t see a number of rooms or places that we remember from past tours—the princes’ rooms, Elizabeth’s rooms, and so on. Maybe next time, but we felt that maybe the Tower has had to adapt to the crowds the place now attracts.

     London isn’t all historic buildings and skyscrapers.  We spent some time on Saturday at the Portobello Market along with many other visitors.  We just got a few blocks and shops in before we had to turn back for other events. This is a place that is going to take some time. We knew we were on foreign soil when jerseys for sale were not LeBron or Brady but Rooney and Ronaldo.

  

 

     And on Sunday we experienced Brick Lane markets, along with a mob of young Londoners. Vintage galore and vinyl records everywhere (suddenly those boxes in our basement don’t seem quite such a waste of space). We went up and back past all the food stalls trying to decide what to choose. Others in the crowd seemed to be able to stop at each one. But the best image was the line out the door of Cereal Killer Café, which is run by identical twins from Belfast and offers over 100 cereals—line up for your chance to eat cereal!?

     The museums, and galleries, and theatres will have to wait for another entry. This one is getting a little out of hand. But as a nod to the richness of the visual culture all around us, I’ll leave you with one last picture, on the side of a building, taken while on our Jack the Ripper walk: 

Bath

     It’s been a week of travel and it's time to catch up a little--a short blog now and a longer one later about our four days in London over the weekend. On Wednesday the 21^st, we rented a car and drove to Bath, detouring through some southern Cotswold towns on the way. For those waiting to hear of my driving skills:  It all went ok, but it’s not something I’m going to brag about and it’s not something I plan to do on a weekly basis. Left side of the road, ok; stick shift, fine; Oxford’s narrow street full of bikes at night, not good. But everyone is still alive. If we can take trains and buses, that’s a better way of travel—for all concerned.

     It was a rainy day in Bath, so we didn’t walk as much as we expected. The Jane Austen self-tour, for example, will wait for another time. Bath is very much a tourist town, primarily centered around the ancient Roman baths. But it is also a bustling town of daily local commerce. Between the ancient and modern, however, there is lots of evidence throughout the town of the late 18^th and early 19^th century, when I think Bath may have had its greatest days, Georgian architecture and the Regency period. The place is full of big beautiful town homes, most notably the Royal Crescent, built just about the time some American colonists were getting restless and wanting more independence.

     For me, there is an interesting contrast between these places and the buildings of Boston, Philadelphia or even Williamsburg (I know the latter are reproductions) from the period.  England was the world power—the British Empire—and it shows in this arch of grand houses high on a hill with a great green space before them. Sure, I’m projecting, but there is an imperial confidence in this scene, even if the king was starting to show signs of madness about 100 miles to the east and now most of these houses are carved up into flats.

We’ll be back.

Oxford bearings

     We have been in Oxford for ten day, and I suppose it is time to record some first impressions, partly to compare them with one or three months from now.  We have seen a lot, walking 3-4 miles each day, but there is much more to see. We have not ventured much beyond the city center. It is hard to sum up our experiences or find a defining image—and the best images are already well distributed; see Wikipedia for a start at pictures and information: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxford

The Oxford Castle is just down the block and the former Lion Brewery—founded in 1743!-- is even closer (unfortunately it closed in 1998). The street is now residential, with converted warehouses and industries, like The Old Bakery next door. At the end of the street flows one of the branches of the river Thames and we cross over the “Quaking Bridge” when heading toward city centre.

former Lion Brewery

Thames River

     The part of the city centre closest to us (Bonn Square, Westgate Centre, western end of High Street, Cornmarket) is commercial. Lots of clothing stores, some coffee shops, and banks on the corners.   We took a tour with some of the students, and while on Cornmarket, the guide advised that “if you are ever homesick, look around and you’ll feel like your home.” In our view as we looked around were McDs, KFC, Burger King (now a Canadian company), the Gap, and Starbucks. No photo needed.

     A little farther down High Street, about a half mile from us begins a row of colleges: Lincoln, Oriel, Queens, University (the first college, thus called University, and Bill Clinton’s college), and Magdalen (pronounced maudlin), which is one of the premier schools in all sorts of ways at Oxford. We have learned that one of the great rituals of the year at Oxford is when the boys and men Magdalen choir sings from the rooftop of the college tower at 6 am and the street is filled with festivities—and the nearby bridge filled with drunk undergrads trying to jump into the river Cherwell. We hear the police valiantly try to stop them, since the 15-foot fall ends in about 2 feet of water.

Magdalen College

     We went to the Magdalen Chapel Sunday night to hear the choir in evensong. It was an impressive experience: A dozen young boys and college students on each side of the aisle across from each other in this dark, Gothic chapel lit by candles and filled with organ music. Wine was served afterward, but—uncharacteristically—we passed it up and headed home.

     The north/south axis for Oxford is St Aldate’s, where Christ Church is located and the aforementioned Cornmarket St. Cornmarket is a pedestrian street for a block—all the better to shop in—then turns into St Giles. The Carfax Tower is at the crossroads of High and Cornmarket/St Aldate’s. Whew, not sure anyone is going to follow that paragraph but that intersection is the central crossroad and a key landmark.

Carfax Tower, center of Oxford

     The other important crossroad, and the more significant one for academics, is in the northwest quadrant of the city centre, about ¾ mile from our flat. Of course, while there are two roads crossing, there are 4 named streets, each changing names at the intersection. Where Broad/Holywell intersects with Park/Cattes, the Bodelian Library sits. One of the great libraries of the world, the Bodelian is a complex of building with lots of floors underground, plus a huge warehouse twenty miles south, where they can retrieve a book you order in the morning by that afternoon. Nearby are Blackwell’s bookstore (another academic shrine); the Radcliff Camera, the principal reading rooms of the Bodelian and possibly the most photographed building in Oxford; the Sheldonian Theatre; and another four college libraries within a stone’s throw of the Bodelian. So many books—the library recives about 1000 items every week--so little time.  We received our Bodelian library cards in a bit of a ritual, where a member of the Admissions Office (to the Bodelian) in her academic robes lectured on the history and centrality of the library, then awarded us our cards after proper identification. We also had to sign a pledge we would “kindle” no fire in the library. Kindle is not the reading device, but rather a dangerous habit some scholars had of trying to stay warm before central heating. Thus the pledge.

Radcliffe Camera is the domed building, more Bodelian library behind it

 

     The people we have met have been unfailingly friendly when asked a question or for help.  Couple quick examples: The woman in the grocery was amazed that I couldn’t buy a bottle of liquor on a Sunday in the US, chalking it up to another instance of a very strange country but with good people. Kate had to try make sense of my directions when I wrote St George rather George St, and a handful of people went out of their way to solve the problem (my map had gotten her to George St, where she was headed) as the strangers explained St George was a long ways away.

     We are feeling comfortable. Plan to get behind the wheel this week and drive on the wrong side of the road (which side is that?). Stay tuned.

picture of the Bodelian is from http://prato12.blog.sbc.edu/files/2011/07/bodleian-library-large.jpg

food

     The course I am teaching is about globalization, from cultural, economic, historical, and political perspectives, with food in Britain and the U.S. as the example. While I have learned a fair amount from books about British foodways, especially in the historical context of the American Colonies and the Raj in India, I’m enjoying exploring the contemporary food scene as part of my thinking about this course. I don’t consider myself a foodie, but the course is a good excuse to head off to markets and restaurants and pubs.  So, this topic is likely to have multiple installments. Stay tuned.

     Like the U.S., Britain--and it seems very apparent in Oxford—is undergoing a significant locovore (eat local food) movement. Our first meal In England was at the Jam Factory, a lovely restaurant and art gallery around the corner, which featured a special on pheasant—shot locally that morning. We had just arrived, feeling a bit worn out, so we settled for something less. But it was a great introduction to the food scene.

     Over the past week, we have been having lunch in pubs and sampling what might be considered traditional English fare:

Fish and chips with mushy peas at St Aldate’s Tavern. Fine pub on a busy street, but not remarkable.  Fish and chips may be quintessentially English (at least in the past century) and it is offered at each pub we've visited so far, but the fish-n-chip shop and as a street food it seems to have pretty much disappeared--I'll admit that's a assertion that really needs further review.

    Bangers and mash (with sweet potatoes chips on top) and a turkey casserole at Turf Tavern. Food was very good. The gravy for the sausage and potatoes was from stout and mustard—yum--going to have to try to duplicate that at some point.

The Turf Tavern (yes, that's grass on the roof) is a fun place that claims to be the oldest pub in Oxford, and it feel like it could be. A bunch of small rooms and low ceilings. It was a mix of locals and tourists. Good cask ales and a couple of ciders on tap. They also had Goose Island IPA—this is the second American craft brewery offering we have come across. We also saw a sign in front of a pub for Devil’s Backbone, which is a brewery by Wintergreen Resort in Virginia (we didn’t go in—not traveling across the Atlantic to drink our local brew).


     A Sunday beef roast with sausage and mashed potatoes in the background, at Eagle and Child: 

This is the place where the Inkings—C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein and other Oxford writers hung out. Lots of small rooms, with plenty of charm and pictures of the literary lions all over. The beef roast was a disappointment, but after seeing signs at almost every pub and restaurant that morning for Sunday roasts, I felt it was a must for my exploring British food traditions. Again, the sauce with the sausages was excellent; may be that one can’t go wrong with bangers and mash. We will continue to test that. 

       Steak and mushroom pie and brie and cranberry sandwich:

     Today we got out of the rain and warmed by a fire at Kings Arms. A great pub, with a mix of large open spaces and small rooms. We sat on a couch by the fireplace (the fire glows in the background in the picture).  After the tough beef roast and the tough steak pie, I may have had my fill of cow in Britain. Kate loved her sandwich however. Youngs on tap; only ok bitter (roughly a pale ale in the US) and special (vaguely similar to Amber Ale).

     There are ethnic restaurants all around but so far we have been at the pubs or eating at home, and we haven’t really ventured out of the city centre yet where more ethnic restaurants await.  We haven’t even had Chicken Tikka Masala, now the most common dish in Britain—and a British, not Indian, invention. More on that at some other time after we’ve had some here.

     There is a farmers’ market the first Thursday of the month. We missed the January one, but look forward to February. There is also a weekly Wednesday market, but it is more flea than farmers' market.  We plan to get to the Cotswolds the first Saturday of February for a local food festival. And there are a number of “real food” markets in London that we will need to explore before the class begins.  So much to do.