"Pretty Cool for a Pensioner"??

First I want to say: I really adore Joanna Lumley!
I LOVED her as Patsy in "Absolutely Fabulous" - so hilarious, so blunt - so wonderful!
Then I loved her campaign for the Gurkhas.
And I think she is a very pretty role models for the "Young at Heart".
But I didn't like her last advert for "In the home with Sky Go":  www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLCGphxg6ds
There she is shown as a lovely to look at person - but behaving like a woman of the Fifties.
I don't believe that she (!) all these years had endured to watch (for her: boring) motor races with her husband without going to buy her own television set... And a bigger one as that little laptop she uses in the kitchen!!! I firmly believe that Joanna has what Virginia Woolf called "A Room of One's Own." (And she was not speaking of the kitchen).
But what really annoys me is that seemingly everbody does believe that people, as soon as they become pensioners - and in lovely England they can become that with 60 years, I have heard - get weak in the brain, lose their marbles, suddenly don't know how to use a mobile or computer.
Hey - we are speaking of people who became pensioners - so they must have been working somewhere - and where do you not need a computer nowadays? So: people who where managers, actors, mothers, whatsoever - suddenly are depicted as Rip van Winkle? König Rotbart? Having overslept the technical inventions of the last decades???
"Pretty silly", I say.
You are a great person, Joanna, you are a role model - don't play "Little silly me, not wanting to annoy big mighty husband". You are worth far more than that.
And: Old is not a synonym for stupid.

Plans versus Trial and Error

Here in London I found out, that a plan is good - but then one has to be willing to give it up, if necessary.
"It seems to be productive to admit our personal insecurities, instead of merely continuing to pursue the rationalized and standardized approaches", writes the Icelandic artist Olaf Eliasson - proposing experiments as the ideal method for times of uncertainty.
Which I experienced.
How often had I to admit my personal insecurity to find a certain street or building (I will not speak about the different way men and - some, including me - women look at a map - I am only glad that my friend Anne goes unfailingly - AS I - into the wrong direction after looking at a map) - and so I asked people. They were always very friendly and tried to help. Some were so eager to help that they didn't want to admit that they had not the vaguest notion of  where that street was - helpfully they sent me into the wrong direction. (And only once I was a bit angry about it, when I schlepped my heavy suitcase the many steps down to the wrong side of the Underground... otherwise I took it with humour - I had time). 
Interesting, how many, many people didn't know the church behind the corner of their street, (that was my longest Odyssee, to find "The Browning Room" in the St. Marylbone Parish Church. I saw five churches (!) before I finally was there - then the room was closed.
People kindly took out their i-phones to have a look at the map, that helped a lot. Others said: "Really? THERE is Dr. Johnson's House? Gosh - everyday I pass by it, and I've never seen it!"
And today I was looking for Frederik Topolski's 'Memoir of a century' - and couldn't find it. It was near, very near - I could almost feel it... but not see it. Then it was closed for repair.

So I gave up my plan. And had the funniest and most astonishing walk since long. The beauty of the London architecture is so stunning!

I found an orchard in containers, then a garden project on the embankment,

and then I even discovered a garden that was not on my list: I recommend to everybody who is slightly interested in gardens (and in London, near Waterloo Station) - the St. John's Church Garden! Such a bright gardener, with such a keen sense of colour and plant structure! Utterly lovely!
While I was looking at some mosaic containers,

a very adventurous looking young man came and asked me: "Do you like it?" "Yes!" I smiled. And he said proudly "I made it!" "How wonderful!" I said, and he told me about the project where young people were giving their time to doing mosaics. Just so.
So: I found out: often, when I wanted to see something desperately and had to search for it for ages, it was either a) shut, like dear Topolski, or b) not worth the trouble - as Dr. Johnson's House: I think they didn't do the exhibition lovingly. This is a simple example:

In Sir John Soane's House, they had put a dried thistle on every chair they wouldn't have you sit on; in Leighton House it were cones - here they just took an old string they found in a glass of pickled onions...
The positive thing I found out:
whenever I let myself drift, followed my instincts, joined the flow - I always found something miraculously, ever.
As our famous German plant breeder and gardener Karl Foerster once said:
""Suchet und ihr werdet noch ganz etwas anderes finden“- 
"Search - and above all you will find something else". 

 

Tooting: Bingo!!!

An interesting article by India Knight on luxury made me hurry to The Bingo Hall in Tooting earlier than I had planned - I mean: who can afford the expensive life in London for long? I didn't want to be seen in Selfridges - yes, I was there, at The Sales, and at Harvey Nichols and Harrods - crying: "Does my purse look squeezed in this?" (the headline of another article about the frightened middle classes, also in the Sunday Times, by Laura Weir.)
To be honest: most luxury clothes from last season look very much like luxury clothes from - last season. Most of the things I wouldn't have wanted even as a present. My glance fell on things marked "New" - not because 'New' meant 'High fashion' - but because they looked comfortable and warm - they start the Winter Season now (for the first time I thought: How sensible! instead of: How crazy!)
Back to the Bingo Hall. It was opulent - it was awesome!

It was built in 1931 by Cecil Massey in full Art Deco beauty (first cinema under Grade I Listening). .
The interior 'was designed by Theodore Komisarjevsky, a set designer, making use of ornamental plasterwork by Clark and Fenn. It has marble foyers both at the main and balcony entrances, and a hall of mirrors and deep ceilings more suitable for a palace than a cinema.'

Today the over 3000 seats (in Golden Times filled) were empty, and only a few old ladies played Bingo down in the huge ballroom (or whatever). 
                    Did I win? I love mysteries ... by the way: have you seen my new car/yacht/castle and horses?
Oh, sorry: almost forgot about the law lex sumptuaria...

"Look into my eyes, babe!"

In the German synchronisation of 'Casablanca', Humphrey Bogart says "Look into my eyes, babe" instead of 'Here's lookin' at you, kid". With my eyes I had a special adventure yesterday, on my way to the Sales. It was very difficult to find Southern Moulton Lane! When I asked a young man if he could show me the way I didn't realize that he was a salesperson - sorry: the manager of a cosmetic firm called Gold-Oro (they might have thought "Make assurance double sure!", or "Even the simplest person will fall for gold + gold.") 
I should have become suspicious when he asked me to come into the shop - to look up the address...
Inside he offered me a hand massage - "Look!", he cheered while rubbing my hand with a lotion, "look: such a marvelous result! Our Peeling hand creme is made with the ingredience 'pure gold' - so good for the skin!" I answered testily: "I love gold around my neck or finger - in form of jewels." 

"Britta", he said, "but you know the best thing you can give your skin? Gold! Ah - which skincare do you use?" "Shiseido." "Good - very good - but you know: We sell ... Luxury!". He told me the price of the 'Luxury' - for one eycream they wanted 500 GBP!
"But it will last for two years!" he said - forgetting that just before he had told me it is not good when skin 'get used to a cream like Shiseido for a long time.'
He was not only very talkative, very beautiful and touching me all the time (I thought of the Moomin-figures called "Klippdass" in German Moomins - they leave little sticky footprints wherever they go) - no, he knew every trick in the book. He even invited me to holidays in his house in Israel!
When I announced that I had to go now he became imploring, and started to haggle like a carpet dealer.
Can you imagine: I would have got that wonder cream - but only NOW! that offer would be only valid if I buy NOW! - for a paltry sum of 200 GBP - and when I announced my leaving again, he added a facial 'for nothing' that normally would cost me 85 GBP.
One characteristic of mine is that I can be stubborn as a mule. And I am not daft: I have written a 250 page manuscript on beauty and beauty products. And I am schooled in negotiation too.
So I tapped him on his arm, looked as deep into his beautiful eyes as he had in mine, and said - as he had done: "Love - you are such a charming man! I'm sorry to disappoint you - it hasn't be your fault, you were very good - but sorry - I have to go now." As I saw his crestfallen face I added soothingly: "Maybe I think about it all and come back."
He said: "In the next life." Then he laughed.
Which showed me: he wasn't daft either. And a good guy, underneath the salesperson.
As I.

The 100. RHS Chelsea Flower Show - finally...

Anne and I liked visiting the Chelsea Flower Show so much - so why do I write so late about it?
We were lucky: on Saturday the sun shone. Masses entered - and no: we didn't see so many hats as on this picture:

To be true: we didn't see any hats - though no umbrellas either. But lots and lots and lots of people - two third women, I guess, sometimes with a tired, helpless husband in tow. "Ah! Look! There! Wonderful! Beautiful! Oh!" So many people were there that sometimes you were just able to take a photograph - and look at it at home! ...
First there were a row of theme gardens - some good, some kitsch - and a lot of stalls for buying something:

What do I remember especially? "The Secret Garden" (Ye Olde English Country Garden - style...);

and "The Garden of Enlightenment" (because we thought at first: Oh no - not again an old chestnut of  New Age-Things - but it was fun: a garden with books!

The Big Tent: an abundance of flowers, people, colours and scents. Here three examples in pictures.

I really, really enjoyed it - but you know: I am a (disciplined) Chaos lover, so I have to confess that I prefer a "living" garden or park. Here in the Show everything on display was oh so perfect, immaculate - it made me think of the old Zen story, where the Master told his pupil to go into the garden and take a rake and do away all the leaves from the  maple that had fallen onto the gravel. The pupil worked till everything was immaculate. Then the Master came, looked at it, shook the bow of the maple, and a few leaves fell on the gravel.
"Now it is right", said the Master.

Today I met HRH Prince Michael of Kent

Can you believe it: today I've met HRH Prince Michael of Kent!
I was seeing (professionally for my book: Inspector Morse and Hercule Poirot have an episode playing in this building) an exhibition in Freemasons' Hall in London. This imposing  Art Deco monument was built in 1933, and the United Grand Lodge of England is the governing body of Freemasonary of England, Wales and the Channel Islands.
Today a big meeting took place - you saw a lot of distinguished gentlemen in elegant black suits. Thus we were only allowed to see the remarkable exhibition in the library instead of getting the (free) tour round the building.
But by chance I found a guide: a lovely, very well-informed man who showed me around, and when I asked him he admitted that he was a Freemason himself, and so I learned a lot.  In one display cabinet he showed me "the Lewis"  (I instantly thought of Inspector Morse's sidekick) - an implement used for lifting heavy blocks of stone. It is inserted into the top of the stone and signifies "strength and is the emblem of the eldest son of the mason. When conjoined with the Perfect Ashlaw it symbolises the son supporting the parent. "
The Freemasons do not advertise or make proselytes: you have to ask to be allowed to become a member. And - that was new to me - you can be of any religion (or none - as long as you believe in a Higher Being). I knew that Catholics for a very long time were forebidden by the Pope Clement XII to swear the oath of Freemasonary - if they did, they were excommunicated.
I love the little stories.
In 1730 the German Catholics who intended to join Freemasonary but were not allowed created 'The Order of the Mopses' (Mops is the German word for the dog 'pug' - that was their symbol - and because they had not to swear an oath the Catholic Church could not excommunicate them.

Another very interesting story: 

 

In 1934, soon after Adolf Hitler's rise of Power, the German Grand Lodge of the Sun in Bayreuth recognised the danger to Freemasonary, because the Nazis hated them and confiscated their property. So they elected the 'Forget-Me-Not" in lieu of the traditional Square and Compass emblem as a mark of identity for Masons (...) - throughout the wholeNazi-era that little blue flower marked a Brother.'
By the way: there are Sisters now too - though in different Lodges.
While the visitor told me these and other interesting facts, he suddenly draw me near him and bowed his head; I thought: 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do' and followed: HRH Prince Michael of Kent, who is the current Grand Master of the Mark Master Masons had entered the room, followed by two High Masons, and he smiled at us, then disappeared in the Grand Hall.

For more information see: www.freemasonry.london.museum

Henry VIII at Hampton Court

Can you imagine that in the short time I have been here in London I have visited Hampton Court twice?
First with my friend Anne, with whom I visited the Chelsea Flower Show, and then with Louise, my Facebook friend from Dover. Both times were so fabulous!

Of course coming twice did not escape the attention of Henry VIII - and so I met him in the courtyard. In his youth, they said, he was a beautiful man "with a very fine calf" - most important in those days, because they wore silk stockings (see, Tom: he wouldn't have faced any problems at the security control of an airport). We pondered on the role of women, marriage, love, faith and politics in those days. I don't envy them!

The weather was quite up and down - so at first we could throw only a few longing glances onto the gardens outside.

But then - lucky us - the sun came out and we really raptured. I have many fine photographs, also from the little Tudor Garden, but I will not bore you (more than I do by my daily 'telegrams' from London :-)  

We admired the Great Vine, planted in 1768  for King George by Lancelot Capability Brown. The plant in the hothouse is incredibly huge, and even up until 1920 the (numbered) Hampton Court grapes were only for the Royal Family. 
And behind these gates the Thames, "The river glideth at his own sweet will" - as William Wordsworth said in his poem 'Composed on Westminster Bridge'.

 For information see: http://www.hrp.org.uk/hamptoncourtpalace/