Tag: London

Blog/

Queen Marks Magnificent 90th Birthday

April 21, 2016…Today the Queen of England turned 90. What an accomplishment unto itself. To be honest, I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing that many 90-year-olds. Three come to mind right away: my BFF’s great grandmother, a wonderfully poised lady; Irene Sinclair, the former beautiful Dove model, whom I only met briefly at a dinner; and my mother-in-law, who died at aged 96, giving me a good 15 years with her.

Surely there are others but these three made 90 seem as magnificent as Queen Elizabeth II does. Remarkable, isn’t she? Still working and looking absolutely radiant, imagine?

Though I haven’t met her personally, for years we teased about being her neighbour when we lived near Buckingham Palace and I will always remember that though Paul has been presented to the Queen at a work event, he gave up, perhaps his one and only opportunity to attend one of her prestigious garden parties, before we were married. Spouses only! Real love, isn’t it?

Reflecting on my 18 years in England, I must admit that living in London during the lifetime of the Queen has been historic. Let’s say I have enjoyed the fanfare of an event or two over the years, one of them the Diamond Jubilee in 2012, and looking forward to many more that kick-off today, some yesterday and before, to celebrate her stamina, her service and commitment, her life.

On that note, I am pleased to join in with millions to say Happy 90th Birthday, Queen Elizabeth II.

 

 

 

 

 

Blog/

Capital’s Vibrant Spirit Everywhere

London is a great city full stop, if you ask me. But then I live here and have for nearly 18 years. Admittedly, though I haven’t always counted my home city as a great one. So what is it about London that makes it great?

First, the capital has a vibrant soul, a spirit, which dominates central London but also stretches from east to west, north to south. Sure, different neighbourhoods have different charms, attractions, depending on whom you ask.

And if you ask me, I’ll tell you that most areas share this underpinning of vibrancy, even the areas that are as different as the eye can see, like Camden Town and Knightsbridge, for example. The charm is in the people, the restaurants, and the shops.

Speaking of shops, a plethora of choices contributes to London’s greatness. Jokingly, I am known for saying that if a city doesn’t have a Harvey Nichols or the likes of it, then it can’t be great.

Trendy Shops in London
Trendy Shops in London

Admittedly, swank department stores feature big in London. The complexity of course, with some of them, is the word big. Take Harrods, for example, it’s easy to get lost in there, lost in the crowd or just plain old turned around. And then there is Selfridges, covering blocks of the busy Oxford Street. It’s all too much, one tourist admitted recently.

But that’s before she talked to me about navigation. Though it’s true I prefer Liberty and Harvey Nichols to the bigger stores, I can’t imagine London without the big girls. The trick is negotiating them.

Three rules of thumb:

  • Number 1 – Get there at 10.00 or shortly afterwards to beat the crowds.
  • Number 2 – Have a plan. In other words, do not try to do the entire store in one go. If you want to buy shoes, go the shoe department. In both places, you will find plenty of choice. But if you want to browse only, go to Toy Kingdom at Harrods. You will see things there you’ve never seen before.
  • And number 3 – Get your bearings, using an escalator or elevator as your landmark. Also, ask for a map and use it as you would in a busy city.

As for those who don’t want any part of a department store, check out the boutiques, the smaller shops.

“Where are they,” an acquaintance asked recently while visiting London?

“Everywhere I told her, everywhere.”

The trick here is to go neighbourhood browsing, so to speak, to find either locally owned boutiques or flagship designer boutiques.

Take to South Kensington, where Carven has a beautiful store on Pelham Street, for instance, and if you don’t find anything there, head to Fulham Road and feast your eyes on the range of boutiques from Joseph’s to Chanel. There are some reasonably priced ones, too.

Looking for something different, then head to Marylebone High Street, any high

street, really. But Marylebone is one of my favourite’s to nip in and out of trendy shops.

There, what to do now in this great city – pop into one of its many trendy restaurants. Recently, we had the pleasure of dining at two newer ones—Tredwell’s in Covenant Garden and Sea Containers at the Mondrian Hotel. Delicious on both accounts!

There, it is true, …”when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.” Samuel Johnson.

I agree and would venture further to say that even the rain doesn’t dampen the spirit of London. Catch it anywhere, the spirit that is, not the rain, although there is plenty of that around, too.

 

 

 

 

 

Blog/

Do You Know Your World Cities?

I’ve been travelling internationally for years now, long before I moved to London some seventeen years ago. My first stop might very well have been London, or was it Manila, if you don’t count Mexico City. But I do! So never mind where it was.

Anyhow, after returning from Scandinavia earlier this summer,  I found myself browsing my photographs over the years and wondered had I truly become a globetrotter. Quickly, I disqualified myself, knowing full well that I have many more miles to travel.

Still I have seen a few places and gained so much for it, so I thought it would be fun and also a tad bit eye opening to share some of the photographs via a game. Thus, I created ‘What City Is it?’.

Click here to play the game and share with your fiends on social media  to enter the draw to win a scratch globe to map your own travels.  So go on get guessing.

Blog/

Charming London – A Love Affair

I can’t tell you how far back my love affair with flowers goes but nowadays it’s torrid, so much so that I get a weekly delivery just because. And I love showering people with flowers, too, and visiting the varied gardens and parks not only around London but also throughout England.

Admittedly, I’m not much for gardening but I ‘m a keen admirer, even if I haven’t ever been to the much talked about Chelsea Flower Show, which is on now. Why? I have no idea. Up until nearly three years ago, I lived within a short walking distance of the Royal Hospital Gardens, where it is held.

And what I remember most is the excessive vehicle and pedestrian traffic on my street, causing the most exciting fanfare, mimicking an amusement of some sorts, sunshine or rain. Good thing because the rain has been torrential this week. Yesterday it hailed, at least twice.

Anyhow, this got me thinking about places that I admire in London, places that are ever so charming and varied like flowers, but aren’t necessarily on the main tourist map, though the first one is more central that the other two. Twice now, however, I have taken visitors there, who simply didn’t know it existed.

So with schools already breaking for summer in the US in particular, I thought now would be a good time to share three of these charms, which are great places to visit for holiday makers and locals alike, again sunshine or rain.

That’s par for the course here. So grab your rain hat and your sunglasses, too, and off we go:

The South Bank – Sure, I am still a newbie to the London south of the river but in less than three years, I’ve likely spent more time on the South Bank than I have in the seventeen years I have lived here. Likely to do with Waterloo Station being a main artery nowadays but whatever the reason, it continues to be a pleasure.

Though there isn’t much shopping on the South Bank, that’s the only thing that isn’t there. From favourite foods to enticing entertainment, it’s happening.  As well as its festive atmosphere, the South Bank offers stunning views of the city of London.

Richmond upon Thames – Staying south, if you will, head to this charming village. Though popular with Londoners, particularly when the weather is warm, it shows a different side of the capital to visitors. Let’s say a smaller side with cobbled streets and hidden lanes.

Plenty of shopping here, including many speciality shops, but that’s not all. For a picnic or stroll or to just catch a breathtaking view, make your way to Richmond Hill or Richmond Park and at the latter, prepare for deer spotting.

Hampstead – Head altogether north for this pretty village on a hill. Fortunately, I spent oodles of time there working with the World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts a few years ago and took endless opportunities to explore the many trendy shops and restaurants.

Filled with gorgeous English mansions and pretty side streets too, Hampstead is one of London’s most characteristic, and certainly most affluent areas. But if that is not what you are looking for, never mind. Go to the Heath and chill out there, enjoying nature as its most uncultivated finest.

Charming London! What a wonderful affair. I could do this for a long time yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Charming London! What a wonderful affair. I could do this for a long time yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog/

No Need to Compare Bright Light to Mysterious Smoke

I don’t know about a thousand words, but this picture certainly says a few – stroppy, serious, sad yet sanguine and simply Sonja.

Wrapping up our weekend in Paris at the Musee d’Orsay was delightful, yet I stropped at Paul for taking a close-up photograph of me. I so despise head shots and then on the way home on Eurostar, getting my second fix of magazines (the first one was on the way there), I read an article about self-image and how women could sometimes be their own worst critics.

Ouch – I sat up straight and considered the charge, flipping through photos on my iPad. The closer up the photo, the more unpleasant the emotion, proving me guilty as charged.

I found it unbelievable that I, so full of self-worth, could have self-image problems. Who would have thunk it? Of course, my problems pale in comparison to serious esteem matters, which are no joke whatsoever. Still the point is all the same – poor self-esteem leads to dissatisfaction, unhappiness, unhealthy living and so on, even if it is on a small level.

And who has time to be unhealthy, unhappy and dissatisfied when in Paris or London for that matter. So with memories of The City of Lights in the near distance, I took in the blustery air of The Smoke.

On the taxi ride home, I recalled returning from Paris to London last year with my BFF, godson and one of his friends. Having gone from one elaborately stunning hotel to a sedately beautiful one, I remember thinking that the Parisian hotel got the prize. I even said it out loud and suggested that the London beaut was a bit tired, though I wouldn’t turn down a night there anytime. I love the place.

The City of Lights shines
The City of Lights shines

Suddenly, however, this Londoner felt second-class to a Parisian. Oh dear. And now speeding through Bloomsbury, I was comparing the two cities again, having been caught up in the romantic atmosphere of Paris for the weekend. I compared the Seine to the Thames, Marble Arch to Arc de Triomphe (unfair!), our bridges to theirs, museums and so on and then it struck me that I needn’t choose one over the other.

Like their respective luxury hotels, one wears its opulence on its sleeve and the other is ever so mysterious. And to be honest, I like a little mystery now and again. No wonder I can’t get enough of Hercule Poirot.

And anyhow, I haven’t seen the real the grit of Paris, albeit it is a dirtier city than London, on the surface. Still they are both impressive cities, just different—one characteristically French and the other English. Come to think of it, so are many of those headshots of mine, different that is.

But one showing is enough, at least for this outing. No need to compare, seriously!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog/

Perspective In The Eye Of The Beholder

And I thought my packages were extravagant–beautifully wrapped boxes from Net-a-porter, Matchesfashion.com, Harrods, etc.– until I saw the brightly coloured Lamborghini delivered to my neighbourhood recently.

On my way back from an hour of much needed training, I was contemplating my soreness and how I might convince myself to return to my computer to write (as I haven’t written for weeks, owing to stress masquerading as writer’s block) when I saw this expensive spectacle being backed off of a truck.

As I fixed my eyes upon it, suddenly fathomable prose struck me with an exciting force. Not that I hadn’t anything to write about before laying eyes on this car. There is plenty of that.

From the London restaurant where the tables have built in computers to order one’s dinner to the magnificent Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty exhibition at the V & A, I have been a girl about town lately. Not to mention the enthralling yet dark play, The Nether, at the Duke of York theatre, focusing on life without consequences. Disastrous! Not the play, which is rather brilliant, even if it is haunting.

Anyhow, that’s three more blogs to come, but with stress addiction (to be explored in a Huff Post blog surely) I was stymied until I saw the Lamborghini.

Enchanted as I was, I moved past the car rather quickly and into my concierge to pick up my own package, which Paul ought to put into perspective now surely, don’t you think. And then back outside, I glimpsed the owner zipping into the parking garage.

Up to the truck driver I strolled and confirmed that it was indeed a Lamborghini since I don’t always get my cars right but I do remember a friend of mine pointing out years ago that ‘the darn thing has wings.’

Anyhow, the truck driver smiled in confirmation, albeit staring quizzically, perhaps wondering if I was a groupie of sorts of if I lived in a hole somewhere. So glad to be a writer again, I dispelled any groupie myths and moved along, knowing that on some level he must have known that I had seen my fair share of such cars in London. Who hasn’t? From Lambos to Aston Martins to Bentleys, they are all here.

At one point certain posh hooligans had to be fined heavily for drag racing along Piccadilly. Never mind this. The point is I had never seen one delivered or witnessed the owner admire it, accept it and take possession of it so to speak.

Something about this experience got me thinking coherently again. Although the car is lavish by most standards, it reiterated something to me about perspective—it is in the eye of the beholder.

With that thought, I tore into my rather modest package–shush it’s a Sophie Hulme handbag. Let’s hope Paul agrees. Regardless, there’s more to come soon, that is writing. Well, maybe packages, too.

 

 

Blog/

Hazy Weekend Coming Up in London

Just as well that I wasn’t able to get out for my run this morning. Dust from the Sahara desert has blown into London, once again, sending runners and many other outside enthusiasts inside for the hottest day of the year, yet to come.

A low-grade asthma sufferer, I remember all too well being trapped inside of a gym for days in 2012. This time, as the dust blew in, I spent the morning in my car, driving across London, gazing through the haze upon buildings such as the Shard.

My pre-planned trip to Essex to see my specialist about implants, dental implants that is, okay, had robbed me of the run anyhow, thus I wasn’t as gutted as before. Still, as I glimpsed the London skyline, I thought ahead to Saturday, realising that my plans would surely go up in dust.

In the morning, I had hoped to take to the Thames Path,  but meteorologists are forecasting blood rain, a term scientist use to describe rain when it is mixed with the red dust.

That means hitting the gym or giving my run a miss. Make no mistake about it, I am not above taking to the treadmill – oh no, not I. But do so dislike it, if only for the repetitiveness of running in place. Not to mention that on a Saturday morning the gym will be packed.

Excuses! Excuses! Sounds like a hazy weekend to me.

 

 

Homepage/

Expat Takes Off On Flying Holiday

Make no mistake about it I love airplanes. Without them, I would be grounded, likely in the US, instead of the UK. Let’s say I owe my expatriate experience in many ways to the airline industry. I never took to the waters, if you will.

And certainly I owe my visits to the US to see family and friends to planes, not to mention holidays abroad. And I am not the only one indebted to the industry; the tourism industry must be, too.

In 2013, the UK had more than 31 million visitors with London leading the way with 16.8 million of them, an increase of 1.3 million from 2012, when the Olympics were held here.

The rise was the highest recorded number of overseas visitors since records began in 1961.

Presumably, many of these visitors arrived via airplane, though the Eurostar, ships and coaches provide other travel options. But if you are in a hurry, flying is the fastest route. And I almost always am.

Admittedly, however, I find the preparation for flying rather tedious. I do understand it and wouldn’t have it any other way for safety. Still I long for the nonchalant preparation of throwing things in a bag or two willy-nilly and taking off.

Last weekend, Paul and I did just that, joining our English family at a Center Parcs village, sort of a vacation park, which offers short breaks year-around. How very interesting we found it.

Though marketed for families with children, Center Parcs offers something for everyone from outdoor activities such as walking and cycling to indoor sports including swimming and playing tennis and squash. Also, the facility has a spa, plenty of restaurants and a few shops. The accommodation is not bad either. 

Honestly, it’s not a holiday destination that we would take without family but with them, it measured up. I’ll take their Aqua Sana Spa over the chilly rain any day. And most importantly, there was no commotion about packing and travelling. So, I did throw in two bags after all, one for each day.

The next stop, however, calls for flying, with only one-bag to carry on. Argh! Considering that the trip is tomorrow, I’d better get sorting. Otherwise, I’ll be grounded. And I do like flying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homepage/

Expat Exercises for Re-entry to Life in London

Years ago when I worked for Habitat for Humanity International, re-entry was a phrase often used of the International Partners, staff returning from a work trip abroad. It stands to reason that after being away from a country, one needs to re-adapt to the culture, etc.

An expat of nearly twenty years, I can attest to that. Casually, I often use the word re-entry when returning to the US, even sometimes stopping over for a night or two in a city of choice, before joining friends and/or family for a good down home visit.

Only on this last visit, however, somewhat made in haste, even if it did last over two weeks, I didn’t have time to think about adjusting to time zones, water, food, language and so on. I hit the ground running, literally and didn’t stop rushing around until after I returned to the UK.

It was then that I began to think of re-entry, if you will. Suddenly, my body was no longer tolerant of the few hours of sleep I got each night, the paces that I put it through daily or the inappropriate food I lived on, including honeybuns and coffee cake, most days.

This past Monday, the cinnamon brioche, the English honeybun I teased to a friend, did not cut the cake. Suddenly, I am gluten intolerant again. Furthermore, I acutely understand the value of daily exercise again – something I didn’t bother with at all in the US.

Yet this morning while exercising, even if it was challenging, I felt a freedom that I hadn’t felt it more than two weeks. That is when it occurred to me that exercise was somehow freeing. And I quietly said to my personal trainer, Judit Ressinka, that if only I could get her to the US to do at least one session with each of my sisters, I felt certain that they too could experience the freedom that I was experiencing.

Judit felt that I was on to something. Though exercise is often associated with alleviating physical stress, it also has the power to alleviate mental turmoil, too. When going through a particularly stressful time, I pointed out, we are trapped in a small world, which drives us, and keeps us on a bumpy road.

Exercise, Judit agreed, makes for a smoother ride, if you will. It has a way of getting the blood and oxygen flowing, properly and harmoniously.

Of course, one session won’t cut the cake, any more than my cinnamon brioche did, but a consistent programme will make a big difference in how the body endures.

Even I am truant from time to time like the two weeks in the US, no doubt the rigorous programme of training once per week with Judit and running three times, sees me through arduous times.

Now back to re-entry. What’s for supper?

 

Homepage/

Listening Up and Running With Sense

My iPhone has been my running companion for the two years that I have taken up running rather seriously.  No wonder. It is the keeper of my running music, any kind of music, including gospel, and my trusted RunKeeper app.

The thought of running without it was inconceivable until this past Saturday. Case and point: last summer while running a 10K, I must have added at least five minutes to my time when the app suddenly stopped.  Though I tried to keep going without it, I couldn’t hack it, so I stopped long enough to recover the app and my running playlist.

Meanwhile my running mate, who couldn’t conceive of running with music and so on, had long left me in the blazing distance. Still I didn’t see her point and set out to prove her wrong or just different, perhaps. So while visiting Georgia, I’d hijack my niece’s phone, having installed the app there and a substitute playlist.  And off I went. No matter where I ran, I set off with somebody’s phone.

Still I struggled, perhaps lost in the music and the commands of Ms RunKeeper, blaming my pokiness on anything but the obvious. But those days are gone, at least I hope they are. After spending about three days in sabbatical without my phone, my iPad, a single device, I finally saw the device for what it was—a distraction, certainly while running.

But seeing is next week’s focus of running with sense. This week I want to talk about hearing.  Things went so well Saturday that Monday morning, I set out yet again without the phone. Okay so it was in my pocket, just in case. But the just in case never happened, giving me the opportunity to hear London running rather smoothly, to be honest.

From birdsong to the cawing of the lone black crow perched on the lamppost, I heard London wake up. To one side of me, though I kept my head away from sooty, low waters of the Thames, I focused on the sounds of the water crashing against the gravelly shore.  For a moment, I fancied myself miles away on a remote island.

But the idea of running with sense is to stay in the moment and so I returned and further up the riverbank heard the splashing sounds of the river bus speeding along. At Battersea Bridge, I stopped and closed my eyes, listening to the thudding sounds of buses crossing, motorcycles vrooming and car engines purring and droning.

And to the other side of me, I heard the whooshing of wind passing through the trees and the rustling of leaves blowing about on the ground. All the while I sensed a calm flowing through me, even when I heard the odd sound of a banging and buzzing. The construction work was underway. Still I knew London was running smoothly. How refreshing!

Near and far I heard the striking of feet against the pavement, some running and others walking and dogs lightly trotting along, if you will. At one time, I heard my own rhythm so acutely that I was sure it must have been the sounds of another but it was mine, so I basked in it.

Then it dawned on me that scarcely a sound of the human voice was to be heard and there was something sobering about that, if only for a moment, though I heard one commuter whispering into her phone—the others going about quietly and purposefully, particularly cyclists. Speaking of cycling, did you know the turning of the wheels of a bicycle makes a lyrical sound, much like mosquitoes singing in the night? Me either.

And then they came, a class of school children running without sense if you will. They giggled, they chattered, they panted, and they shushed one another. But still it was a lovely sight to see.  They were running, really exercising! But that’s another story. Righty ho. Next week – Looking Out: Running with Sense.