I had a lovely day afternoon in town with my friend John today. I met him at Oxford Circus, and found my way there on the Bakerloo line all by myself! The first order of the day was to have lunch at the Riding House Cafe, which was delicious. We had lots of small plates and a basket of the softest bread. We sat at the bar, right by the open flame grill in the kitchen, so it did feel warm and slightly hell-like. But a pleasant kind of hell, with delicious food and a very lovely bathroom.
Fortified by lunch, I made my first pilgrimage to Uniqlo in two years. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to return. And I also can’t believe that I live in a city where I can go to Uniqlo everyday if I wanted to! I bought a pair of woolly tights and I may or may not have come home, ripped open the packaging, and immediately put them on. Ahem.
After wandering around Oxford Circus and Bond Street, ogling all the jewellery in the windows, and wandering around a Chihuly exhibit (I never thought I’d be interested in glass art, but this stuff was amazing. Like beautiful, glass jellyfish), we decided to go to the Tate Britain. But then it got really windy, and we decided to duck into the Royal Academy of Art instead.
Wow. What an amazing place. The courtyard and the building are regal stone and just magnificent at night. We went into the Edgar Degas exhibit, which included lots of film, photography, sculpture, painting and, my favourite of all, his rough study drawings. The film of an aged, nearly-blind Degas walking down the street, filmed by an art student, broke my heart.
While the Degas exhibit was fantastic, I was more intrigued by the societies that are housed at the Royal Academy. I peered into as many windows as I could and saw lots of white-haired old men wearing tweed, drinking tea and possibly brandy, engaged in lively discussion in book-lined rooms. One door was marked the Linnean Society. Another, the Society of Antiquaries. And, my favourite door, the one I wanted to sneak into the most, was a friendly, squat, wooden door next to the cloak room, lettered in gold with Academicians. Who are these people? Are they academic magicians? Scholarly wizards? Both? Do they use wands? I want in!
Across the street was Fortnum & Mason. Now, I was expecting some spectacularly Christmassy windows, featuring snow and pine trees and all that cheesy stuff. It appears, however, that they’ve decided to go with a Sexy Christmas theme: the windows featured mannequins dressed in burlesque costumes surrounded by champagne bottles and boxes of chocolate. They even pained a horribly sleazy moustache on a male mannequin. Perhaps they’ve foregone Christmas and jumped right to New Years instead? Inside, the store was bustling. The shopgirls and shopboys all wear red morning coats! There were piles and piles of British Christmas sweets, cheeses, teas, puddings, creams, candies, and on and on. My favourite part was the bottom floor, which was the food market. It was there that I had the most inspiring moment of the day (sorry Edgar): I smelled oak-smoked garlic. It was a braid of garlic, about 7 or 8 bulbs, dark chestnut in colour, with an intense, smokey, salty, garlicky smell. It was mouthwatering.
After that, we wandered (well, John wandered and I followed him) over to Piccadilly Circus and had dinner at Polpetto in Soho. It was the coziest, tiniest place, all squeaky-chaired and candle-lit. I had my first taste of blood pudding (yum!), a lovely braised purple kale, buratta with celeriac, an amazing grilled squid with chickpeas, and pistachio polenta cake with cream. John had beef cheeks, which were pretty damn tasty.
By that time, it was raining and windy, and everyone’s umbrellas were turning inside out. With just 30 minutes to get home in time for Masterchef, I boarded the bus and headed home. Alas, the bus got stuck in traffic and then terminated early so I missed Masterchef altogether. But have no fear, BBC iPlayer is here! So I can watch Monica and Michel Roux Jr. in the comfort of my pyjamas, and Skype with Thomas a the same time. Hurrah!
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