All right, I've complained enough about the crap culture here, (didn't even mention that last week's Time Out's cover had a pull quote from Dustin Hoffman about rigging 'an exploding fartbag'). But there are some good things, at last, to talk about.
First, is The Original London Walks.
I took one the day before yesterday of Sherlock Holmes' London. The tour group was composed of about a half-dozen Americans and a couple of Russians, who were fans of the Russian Sherlock Holmes tv series. Our tour guide was a wonderful old trouper, a British actress between jobs--she most recently played Hecuba on tour--who was perfectly costumed in a cape, Mary Poppins-type cap, with capacious handbag and umbrella. At various points we'd stop and she's sing a song from Gilbert and Sullivan, or recite a text from a Sherlock Holmes story. We even saw photos of the "fairies" that fooled Arthur Conan Doyle into thinking they were scientific proof--the author was not exactly a Sherlock himself.
The guide even was wearing a silk scarf from Uzbekistan, in the national Ikat design, that her husband had brought her as a souvenir. A nice touch, as it was a Tashkent connection. So, if you are in London, and you see 'Corinna' listed as a guide for a London Walk--run, don't walk to take the tour.
The next day my wife and I took the London Walk through 'Little Venice.' Also led by a British Actress, more pop culture than the other tour, with Paul McCartney's flat, and other showbiz sites along the canal. Sort of Beverly Hills on the A40 Motorway: Michael Flatley, a Pink Floyd musician, Princess Di's brother, etc. Homes 3 million to 12 million pounds, next to council flats, behind Paddington station. Highlight was beautifully restored St. Mary's Church, Paddington, where John Donne preached his first sermon, Sarah Simmons is buried, and Emma Hamilton of Lord Nelson fame wanted to be entombed. Unfortunately, she never made it back to England, though she did get a memorial fresco on the church hall. Also well worth while.
Then to the National Portrait Gallery, which has a terrific underground coffee shop and bookstore where the coal cellars used to be, and a great exhibit of famous English people including my friend Colonel Burnaby, author of A Ride to Khiva, the Uzbek connection again. And Emma Hamilton, of course.
After that, the National Gallery, simply magnificent these days, chock full, open till 9 pm on Wednesday nights -- and the food in the little cafe next to the National Portrait Gallery is excellent, we had supper there, cheese plate and pate. Bookstore didn't have too much on American art, was looking for Robert Hughes' American Visions to take back to Moscow for my class, the clerks didn't know who Robert Hughes was, and never heard of the book, which is surprising considering it was a BBC series. The BBC hasn't put out a video or DVD, which is a shame.
Finally, we ended up at RC Sheriff's Journey's End, now playing in the West End. It was a good solid production of a good solid show, very serious, no crap, thankfully. Acting not great, but it has been running two years. One slight problem is that Blackadder's sendup of WWI genre undercut the evening a little, we kept waiting for Rowan Atkinson to pop up and say 'Hello, Darling!'. But of course Sheriff came long before WWI was a laughing matter, and the play is really worth seeing. The nicest part was the groups of English schoolchildren in their uniforms waiting for buses on the pavement outside afterwards--and there were a lot of Britishers in the audience, which is a nice experience.
So, it seems England is not all Jerry Springer, after all.
BTW, our tour guide told us that the Original London Walks company is owned by an American...