Month: February 2012

When I grew up in Detroit, there was a columnist in the Detroit Free Press named Bob Talbert.  His Monday morning columns were usually snippets of thoughts in the depths of his mind about things that he saw or was thinking.  For today’s blog, I’m going to steal the format completely from him, since it’s been so long since I published.  (don’t ask, I still wrote, but, the topics and tone were way too dark for me to publish. Sue me.)  Anyway, here goes, with an obvious bent towards expat living in London.

I absolutely love this city.  The amount of available history and culture astounds me on a daily basis.  A perfect example of this is the Tower of London and all that it has represented and seen over the past 1000 years since its initial building went up. Ravens, stories about murdered children, a family home, a royal mint, a zoo.  You name it.  It’s been there.  And seeing it through the eyes of a two year old child made my day.  My friend Abe, his two year old daughter Fiona and I spent the better part of a Sunday afternoon there.  She called the ravens ducks and cried when the Beefeaters walked by.  It was magic.

I don’t like baked beans for breakfast.  There. I said it.  I’ve tried.  In greasy spoons, in fancy breakfast places, in swanky hotel buffets.  I think it’s the texture or the association with Beanie Weenie.

The biggest shopping pandemonium that I have ever seen isn’t Black Friday in a mall.  It’s grocery shopping at a Sainsburys the Saturday before Christmas.  The crowds, the people, the grabbing of food on the shelves like that pint of double cream is the last one in existence.  I was scarred for life.

I’ve decided on my next tattoo.  I found the design at the top of a tomb in Kensal Green Cemetery.  Kensal Green Cemetery is a high Victorian cemetery with grand tomb buildings, with royalty, artists and major English historical figures buried in it.  The diagram and the saying spoke to me in a strange way.  Think on.  The park itself is fascinating, given the Victorian focus on life, death and the afterlife – as well as the grandiosity of the architecture.

I’m even more fascinated with the British obsession with reality TV here as well. The Only Way Is Essex, Made in Chelsea, Come Dine With Me (though I like that one); Big Brother, The X Factor.  With all that drivel, it’s amazing that shows like Miranda, Downton Abbey, Call the Midwife, and Sherlock get made at all.  If you haven’t seen Miranda yet,  It is a single camera sitcom that makes me laugh out loud every time I watch.  Miranda Hart is an extremely bright comic with no borders to what she’ll do for a laugh.  I wish American sitcoms were as fresh and unabashedly shameless.  Though, Happy Endings and Cougar Town both come close in different ways.  BTW, if ABC doesn’t renew Cougar Town, I’ll cut a bitch. If you haven’t watched it yet in the US, start on 14 February.  It’s great.

I moved to a new loft style flat in Hoxton, N1, in October.  I have to say I much prefer this non-touristy part of London to living on the doorstep of Hyde Park, Paddington Station and more tourist hostels than homes.  Definitely the best move yet.  I’m on the Wenlock Basin, which is part of the Regent’s Canal.  Due to my place’s distance from a major road and proximity to water, I wake up to swans, and have an amazing view of the City and the BT tower.  Heaven with an ostentatious side by side American fridge avec ice maker!

My Canadian expat friend, David, and I take little road trips quite a bit.  I’ve found that I’ve become a bit of a cathedral junkie.  From the High Gothic, but a little bit cold, Winchester Cathedral to the schizophrenic architecture of St. Albans Cathedral, to the hauntingly ugly on the outside, sublime on the inside Southwark Cathedral, to the dizzying spire and Magna Carta holding Salisbury Cathedral each shows a different, yet, special side of community, religion and wealth that is the “more catholic than Catholic” High Anglican Church.  However, nothing can compare to Canterbury Cathedral.   While the architecture is stunning, the grounds are lush and hauntingly beautiful, the one candle lighting where Thomas Becket was murdered and then his monument was pulled up by Henry VIII, puts the sense of history and poignancy directly into place.  It literally took my breath away.

I haven’t lost my obsession with the Tube.  I even think I have taken it to a new level by stopping at stations just to see them.  Especially, if I’m driving in an area of London in which I’ve never driven.  Some of the stations are architectual masterpieces.

Including the one that I’ve shown here. Arnos Grove is like an Art Deco spaceship, reminiscent of a headier time in England, just at the decline of the empire, but before any of the bombing of WWII.  Simply stunning.

Driving is not bad.  Drivers, in general, are knowledgable, polite and skilled.  The Driving Practical test is the most pedantic thing that I have ever done in my life.  I’m not saying I’m the best driver in the world, but I had to shell out 300 pounds for five lessons, prepping me for the test.  And, the instructor reminded me of my grandfather, with his gruff demeanor and his ability to make me shrivel like a wilting lily.  I have never taken such a solid sigh of relief as when I got the passing score.

Also, on other food related notes – I would kill for White Castle Cheeseburgers, soup that actually has noodles in it (no, the pho on Kingsland Road in Hoxton does not count, but is a great substitute), Stouffers Macaroni and Cheese, kluski noodles, the poutine at Skillet in Seattle, the corned beef hash and raisin toast at Angelo’s in Ann Arbor and Baskin-Robbins Daquiri Ice.  However, with all the walking and the smaller portions that I eat, I’m close to early 20’s fighting weight.

Good food notes – The Hawksmoor is the best steakhouse. Ever. I’m not joking. I ran a steakhouse, and I’ve eaten in most of the best ones in the US.   Classic cocktails, Prime English Organic beef, sides to die for.  It is where I would want my last meal.  There are a couple real Jewish delis here that compete with NYC.  And don’t get me started about the salt beef bagels on Brick Lane. They’re perfection. And, last but definitely not least, Waitrose is grocery store heaven, and Ocado, which partners with Waitrose, delivers.  Including ordering through my Windows Phone, via an app.  That means if I want ready to cook Potatoes Dauphinoise and a Free Range Organic chicken, and chantenay carrots deliverered at 11pm on a random Friday, I can have it.

Oh, and I say brilliant and knackered a lot.  Though, I haven’t gained the fake British accent like my fellow Michigander, Madonna Louise Ciccone Penn Ritchie. Doesn’t mean that I won’t….

Currently, its -1 C, but clear as far as the eye can see.  The sun is shining, and it’s a beautiful day in England.  I’m glad I live here every day.

More again soon.