London is alive and well

Brexit has not killed its vibrant energy

London has just exploded in vitality since I last visited in 2018. Now, post-Brexit, I expected a city down at the heels and down at the mouth. Instead ancient buildings are getting refurbished, new ones are rising, and people speaking many different languages are bustling about on a thousand missions to Do Important Things.

“the next chapter in a 2000-year story of reinvention”

Last week my son let me tag along on his business trip to London. While he meets with clients I walk & gawk.

We were staying in the shadow of St. Paul’s Cathedral, which is gorgeous at night. (I had seen enough church interiors for free in France and Italy, that I chose not to spend nearly $40 to go inside, even though it meant forgoing a 528-step climb to the top of the dome to look out over London.)

But first, I asked my AI buddy, Claude 3.7, to be my personal Rick Steves, and told him/it of my interest in art, design, architecture, and gardens off the beaten path.

My favorite of his unexpected finds was Sir John Soane’s Museum, the home of a brilliant mid-19th-century architect who designed the spaces to showcase his eclectic collection of fine art (like Hogarth, Turner) and ancient architectural artifacts from Greece, Rome and Egypt. Soane used many spatial design tricks like skylights, mirrors, and hidden swing out panels with art on both sides to shoehorn his treasures into the limited space. We visitors were enchanted.

Behind two secret panels a whole other secret space!

Across the street from Soane’s place is the Lincoln Inn’s Fields—a public park overarched by the sinuous limbs of London plane trees that are nearly 200 years old.

They can grow up to 160’ tall, which may be why the French prune them back to stubby nubs in their parks every winter (it’s called pollarding). It brings their shade closer to the ground—also less mess to clean up come autumn.

Les platanes in Veyrier before leafing out

On my way down Fleet Street I came upon an architectural wonder of mythic proportions and fanciful style. A medieval castle? A cathedral that spread out of control? Nope. It is the Royal Courts of Justice, designed and built in the 1870s. The bastard style is described as High Victorian Gothic Revival, with touches of the French and Italian as well. Below is just part of the front side… inside, where you cannot take photos alas, I learned from a guard that under the marble facade the real structure is made of brick.

You can see the brick on the side, where I suppose it doesn’t matter.

In this area you see lots of men in suits carrying briefcases, women carrying bulging backpacks, even a few barrister collars and one guy in a wig. (Yes, some still wear them, but no longer required.)

Look up. I spent hours exposing myself to art. The National Gallery had many wonderful pieces to ogle — but I often find myself noticing other thing as well, because I also look down at the floor and up at the ceilings. Eat your heart out America. Europe knows how to do ceilings!

Look down. Between 1928 and 1933, the National Gallery commissioned mosaic artist Boris Anrep to lay two mosaic pavements in the vestibule of the Main Hall to illustrate 'The Labours of Life' and 'The Pleasures of Life'. In 1952, Anrep laid a third pavement, 'The Modern Virtues'. I loved his topics: Curiosity, Humor, Wonder, Open Mind, Defiance, Compromise. Some scenes depict real people—like here is Churchill:

At the Courtauld Gallery the staircase captured my eye. I’m a suck for spiral-ish staircases:

I should do an entire post on staircases… here are stairs to the Tube at Lancaster Gate.

Clean your lens, Joy! On the way back to Annecy on the TGV via Paris, we had an hour to kill, so we ventured into le Train Bleu, the very posh restaurant in the Gare du Lyon, since 1900.

I’ve always wanted to go inside, but never had the nerve. My son said, “why not! “ We spent about $20 for a cup of tea, a glass of fresh OJ, and a gander at the spectacular interior.

If you’ve never seen Mr. Bean’s Holiday, in which Rowan Atkinson bumbles his way through countless misadventures, each nuttier than the last, this is the famous scene at le Train Bleu that convulsed me into a helpless puddle. He orders the seafood platter… Just watch.

Whoops, I’m about to exceed Substack’s file size limit. If you enjoyed this idiosyncratic ramble please click the like and/or share buttons, so the algorithm knows this post exists. I’d be delighted to read your comments, especially if you’ve been to any of these spots, or have a thing for stairs, ceilings or floors.