Cambridge/London

Monday morning. Grey, blustery. Had to force myself out of bed at 9:00. Fell asleep easily around 10:00 P.M. last night, then maybe 3 or 4 hours later I awoke and couldn't fall back to sleep until the morning. Had a nice, strong cup of capuccino made by Troy, and a slice of toast and marmalade. Troy and Daryl trying to compose an anectode about Glynis when they were kids for a book Liz is creating for Glynis's birthday.

Yesterday I arrived at Heathrow in the middle of the day (1:00) after a pretty smooth flight on Virgin Atlantic. Daryl flew American Airlines and arrived 40 minutes before me. We landed at the same terminal and met up at baggage claim. The flight captain on Virgin announced that England was experiencing "autumnal" weather. It was 18 degrees when we landed. My heart sank even though we had checked the weather before leaving Santa Barbara and Iwas expecting rainy weather. It's been crappy all May and June in England. Everyone shakes their heads despondently, evidently feeling cheated out of a summer. So why would we leave sunny southern Cal for this, you may ask! Hey, I love England. I'll bore you with details of why later - maybe in another blog entry.

We drove to London after lunch. The motorway was virtually traffic free by Englsih standards, but once we got on the North Circular of London it was a different story. I have to navigate and no matter how well we map out the trip and how prepared I am, London's crazy roads freak me out. I mean they totally freak me out. How Daryl can drive in the chaos is beyond me. But he needs me to tell him when to turn, etc., and I'm so freaked I squeak out something untintellible. He shouts, gets annoyed, then tries hard to pretend to be patient. We always succeed in getting to our destination in the end. I therefore believe in miracles!

Cousin Angie's flat in Belsize Park, just up the road from Hampstead Heath will be my home for the next 2 months (except for a 10 day stint in France - more on that in another blog). On the topic of miracles, a parking space was free right in front of Angie's building. I gathered my frazzled brain together and buzzed the flat. Angie, at 63, is gorgeous. The word gorgeous always pops into my mind whenever I see her. She has big, round, clear eyes, smooth, creamy skin, and a smile that can melt glaciers. Mouthwatering aromas hung heavily in the air inside her flat. She had been hard at work preparing a multicourse meal.
Daryl and I after an hour of chatting, decided to walk around Belsize Park and into the heath. It was sunny when we stepped out. We oohed and aahed at the many Indian restaurants, an Italian deli, cafes selling cream teas, a Marks and Spencer food express, and then suddenly the sky darkened and the rain came belting down. We darted into a bookstore. I was pleased that it was a small, privately owned place with a very exciting assortment of books. Now here's one of the many things I love about this country. It isn't hard to find small bookstores even though admittedly the chains are more and more visible. And the selection of books is awesome. I love that the books that are prominently displayed are often by writers from interesting parts of the world. I found a shelf of books by writers from the continent of Africa and browsed through a book by an Indian South African. Now this is indeed a rare find.

The rain stopped and we went into the heath. Had a brisk walk, then returned to the flat. Angie served us aperitifs (I had a gin and tonic) and chilli bites. We whined about the weather, then talked about some books that Angie had just read by South African Indian writers. This is of particular interest to me of course because of the memoir I'm working on. I plan to read these books while I'm here - before France.

For dinner we had rice, aubergines (eggplants, for you Americans) in a hot sauce, mung dhal, and rice. WE had a smooth, red Portuguese wine called Dao to accompany this utterly superb meal. Angie is quite a stellar cook, understanding the use of fresh spices and the right oils. This course was followed by a cheese platter with a selection of ripe and sharp cheeses. Both Angie and Daryl are watching their cholesterol intake and don't eat much dairy normally. You should have seen the joyous looks on their faces as they gorged on this forbidden treat. I had quite a laugh.
After that it was blueberry tart from Waitrose. Yummy!
And food is another reason I love this country. Many Americans have this outdated notion that English food is awful. Sure, that may be true of traditional English food. But who in this day and age eats greasy fish and chips and boiled turnips and pigs in blankets? Walk around the streets of Cambridge and London and you see food from all over the globe. Good, wholesome, fairly traded, unadulterated ingredients in superb dishes. Great Indian food, wood fired pizzas with roasted vegetables, freshly made raviolis in rich pesto sauce, falafels, tagines, tarts, pies, one is so spoiled for choice. Vegetarians aren't just an afterthought. Practically every menu at an English restaurant, even at pubs in villages have veggie options which are well thought out and I can't remember being disappointed by a meal.

After dessert and an animated discussion about the feasibilty of the three of us running an 'orphanage' (actually more a home for kids where they'll be loved and nurtured) in South Africa Daryl and I collapsed in our bed.

I'm excited to be in London. What a great location to be based. Angie will leave for SA in a few weeks and Daryl and I will have the flat all to ourselves. I plan to write and read and write and read and also make time for some fun in this great, exciting city.