At the King William IV Pub in Hampstead, portraits of
notable Brits (mostly men) cover the walls. The etched logo on the glass in
front of me informed me that I was drinking a Caledonian, a lager I enjoyed in
my youth. I had simply asked for a lager and didn’t know that this gem from my
past was even on the menu. Caledonian is a name I enjoy almost as much as the citrusy,
crisp taste. It’s the Latin name for Scotland, in case anyone is wondering.
My mom learned to stop asking for a pint of bitter. Apparently, no one calls it that anymore. And the two ales that were served to her today were, unfortunately, bland and not chilled. My mom commented that too many of the celebrated Brits on the wall were men. I said in my disgruntled British old man voice that, indeed, Kingsley Amis did not deserve two spots on the wall.
I then performed one of our favorite impressions, one that never gets old, of a British man who shall remain anonymous. Kevin Nealon was doing standup at an event to raise money for animal charities maybe 15 years ago, and my mom and I were in attendance. An old British gentleman interrupted the lighthearted comedy and took the microphone out of Kevin Nealon’s hands. He directed everyone’s attention to a painting being auctioned and stated in a solemn tone, “Here we see a picture of the chimpanzees looking on as the humans destroy each other.” The last three words were uttered with severe gravitas, delivered slowly for dramatic effect. The awkwardness of seeing Kevin Nealon try to transition from that interruption back into joke-telling has been a source of amusement ever since. Tonight, at the King William IV pub, its walls decked with pictures, seemed like the perfect time to reenact that scene.
My mom learned to stop asking for a pint of bitter. Apparently, no one calls it that anymore. And the two ales that were served to her today were, unfortunately, bland and not chilled. My mom commented that too many of the celebrated Brits on the wall were men. I said in my disgruntled British old man voice that, indeed, Kingsley Amis did not deserve two spots on the wall.
I then performed one of our favorite impressions, one that never gets old, of a British man who shall remain anonymous. Kevin Nealon was doing standup at an event to raise money for animal charities maybe 15 years ago, and my mom and I were in attendance. An old British gentleman interrupted the lighthearted comedy and took the microphone out of Kevin Nealon’s hands. He directed everyone’s attention to a painting being auctioned and stated in a solemn tone, “Here we see a picture of the chimpanzees looking on as the humans destroy each other.” The last three words were uttered with severe gravitas, delivered slowly for dramatic effect. The awkwardness of seeing Kevin Nealon try to transition from that interruption back into joke-telling has been a source of amusement ever since. Tonight, at the King William IV pub, its walls decked with pictures, seemed like the perfect time to reenact that scene.
Yesterday marked my arrival in London. In the Heathrow
Airport, a sign at customs reads, “Abuse will not be tolerated.” I wish that
kind of guarantee were given everywhere, but of course, there are places where
abuse is more than tolerated; in fact, it’s rewarded. Hence, I have never
needed a vacation so badly. Seeing that sign upon my arrival was a good omen.
I met my mom at Paddington Station. She wanted to show me
how metro-savvy she is. (She lived here in 1968.) Twice she led me onto the
wrong train and I joked that from now on I would have to be the brains in this
outfit. She had bought us tickets to see Mary Poppins Returns at a theater in
Hampstead and we barely made it. My mom told me she and her English sister used
to go to that theater in 1968. She speaks about this English sister in more
glowing terms than she speaks about her biological sisters.
The film was delightful, a complete reversal from Detroit, the film I watched on the plane. (Detroit was also wonderful, but oh so disturbing.) When the credits rolled, the audience applauded, something I thought only American moviegoers did.
The film was delightful, a complete reversal from Detroit, the film I watched on the plane. (Detroit was also wonderful, but oh so disturbing.) When the credits rolled, the audience applauded, something I thought only American moviegoers did.
I have been missing these cozy movie theaters, the kind
where you can snuggle up on a sofa with a pint of beer, a bowl of quality
popcorn and enjoy a good film. To anyone else who cherishes these kinds of
places, know that the Everyman Cinema in Hampstead is an essential attraction.
Seeing Mary Poppins Returns, which is set in London, made the experience even more
special and uplifting.
Today my mom and I spent the day in Oxford. We saw Wilfred
Owen’s original hand-written poems. We drank beer at the Eagle and Child and
sat in the same place where the Inklings, C.S. Lewis’ and J.R.R. Tolkien’s
writing group, met every Tuesday morning. We stopped in at Blackwell’s Bookshop
and stocked up on some reading material. We visited the Ashmolean Museum and pursued
their modern art collection. It was a perfect day. I love Oxford. I love London. I
want to move here, even though I have only explored one neighborhood so far. I
can confidently say that Hampstead is the bee’s knees. Tomorrow, we will go to the
Globe Theater and do some more exploring. I am so excited to be in London right
now. I feel inspired and happy and Christmasy.
I leave you now with a snippet of a Mary Poppins song.
 |
| At the place where Tolkien and C.S. Lewis used to sit and discuss their writing. |
I leave you now with a snippet of a Mary Poppins song.
“So hold on tight to those you love
And maybe soon from up above
You'll be blessed, so keep on looking high
While you're underneath the lovely London sky!”
~Mary Poppins Returns
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| The original of Wilfred Owen's "Dolce et Decorum est." |
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