12. The Holidays: Bob & Bobbie; Thanksgiving

Friday 22 November.  10 a.m.  Low clouds.  Not as cold, no frost.  My parents in town.  I am excited to see them, though, as I spoke to Brian the other day and listened to stories of usual family bickering, the prospects dimmed a little.  The other day, Monday I think, the second reading was about the exiles' return, Jews to Israel.  My return to England is something like that.

Friday – Sunday, London.  We take the 4:06 train to London and have a grand reunion with Bob and Bobbie and nephew William Stilwell at Waldorf.  It's just like they came across town, but with lots of bags and definitely more feeling.  We see "Miss Saigon" Friday night.  FAST!  Therese is the babysitter.  Afterwards, we have an Italian dinner on Catherine St. and drinks at the Waldorf Bar—Glenmorangie, and the bartender who guarantees to drink it if you don't like it!

Family Visitors

Welcome to London!

Saturday, Bob and I are off on our own.  First to Burlington Arcade, little birthday shopping for Cathy.  We walked leisurely down Bond Street, stopping at Asprey.  Then to Oxford Street and back down Regent, with a stop at Burberry's for Michael Davitt.  Then to Ritz for a few drinks, Cordings for shirts and Hatchard's booksellers where we see Ginger Rogers signing books.  Back to Waldorf, drinks at Savoy (me: Glenmorangie, Bob: vodka and water); then Tea.  I walk around Covent Garden afterwards (Penthaligon/bottle of Glenmorangie), then the four of us go to the Savoy for a lovely dinner with Linford and Catherine Rees.  Old stories.  Nice time.  Linford is 77.

Sunday, 9:30 mass at Corpus Christi.  Church is as deserted as 11 a.m. Latin mass.  Thames boat ride from Charing Cross to Greenwich and back by 1 pm.  4:41 train (just missed 3:41) back home.  Drop Bob and Bobbie off at Saffron Walden Hotel.  We have a nice dinner at 8 Bells.

The weather is milder.  Sun and clouds.  No need for scarf and gloves.  William is very quiet!

Monday, 25 November.  Lunch at Bumbles.  Mushroom soup! I was sick later; tried to walk it off but couldn't and stayed in bed the rest of the day.  Cathy went to Nemonthron with Bob and Bobbie for dinner.

Tuesday, 26 November.  Lunch in Cambridge at Don Pasquale (I limit myself to soup and Coke).  Walking Tour at 2 pm with Marit, then to St. John's for pick-up.  Cathy makes lovely lamb dinner.  After dinner we are entertained by the children's play, which receives great reviews.  It's a cops and robber story.  William is the bad guy, Jeffrey talks on the phone.  Mara is the wife and Robert the cop.  Afterwards, Bobbie gives Jeffrey acting advice.

Wednesday, 27 November.  I travel with mom and dad on the 10:57 train into London. Light grey skies, but mild.  We take a taxi to Harrod's, where we have lunch and wine.  Dad buys a new pair of socks—he had been wearing a mixed pair; I look for a scarf for Cathy (£120!).  We take a taxi to see Dr. Roger Crane (PhD.).  We have a lovely time.  He has much of the day scripted because he cannot talk except by air through his throat—it sounds like bumps but understandable if you watch.  Looks like Buck Henry, works on his Apple.  He has pictures of the old days, copies for mom.  We see the Guinea card and make arrangements for 8 pm dinner.  The three of us adjourn to the Burlington Arcade, then Le Meridien for drinks (Dubonet), then we walk down Regent to the Guinea.  Roger smokes cigars—even though he had lost his larynx.  The two of us enjoy a Bolivar together.  Great dinner.  Roger brought lots of writing paper, but Bob hogged the pen and paper.  I just like the conversation.  10:40 return—10 to 15 minute wait at Audley End for taxi.

Thursday, 28 November.  Thanksgiving.  Cathy in kitchen all day.  I clean up, but down to Hoops for lunch with Mom and Dad.  William at school with the kids.  We've been eating Captain Crunch cereal all week.  I make it to high tea at Robert's class, where I speak with Vicky Phew and Annabelle Bruner: Robert is doing great!  Back home and lovely Thanksgiving, including a nice visit with Christo and Branwyn, our St. Johns' friends from South Africa.  My cousin Diane calls out of the blue—she knows I am in England and has misplaced her husband!  I help by explaining that she was talking to a fax machine that's why no answer in her search for Jim.  This is the last I heard from her.  Missed Jeffrey's First Communion class, but speak with Father Edmond.  I make reservations for the beautiful and expensive Waterside Inn.

Thursday 28 November.  11 p.m.  After Thanksgiving meal.  I wonder if I am the new generation: we pack up our bags and travel across the world and feel at home.  An American woman who married a British man 20 years ago spoke on the radio today of the differences between the US and the UK.  An example:  In the US women at 50 should look like Joan Collins, get a face lift, tuck, implant, etc.  In the UK a woman should follow the Queen Mum, the Queen certainly does!  What she said made sense this morning, yet this evening I remembered an earlier thought: big cities are alike.  It is different here: attitudes are different, British are restrained, Americans exuberant by nature; but how do I explain feeling so at home?  Faxes, CNN and satellite television all make us more alike.  Then again, we've been here for awhile and perhaps the strangeness is wearing off.

I notice how much easier it is to see your own country's traits when viewed from afar: exuberance, egalitarianism; these are American adjectives.

As I listened to a review of Jekyll/Hyde by the Royal Shakespeare Company now playing, I thought also of Dorian Grey: idea of thing (primitive?) hidden within (a la Darwin?).

Top: Thames Boat Cruise;
Bottom: Thanksgiving Week Breakfast

Top: William in Cambridge;
Bottom: Heading off to St. John's