inns of court & dinner with the students

On Jan. 23, Shane and I walked through the Inns of Court, which has been London's legal district for centuries. The various Temples that comprise the area feature a variety of architectural styles. We wandered back up to Fleet Street, and then ducked down to the Temple Church, which played a prominent role in The Da Vinci Code. Here are some of the Knights of the Templar, enjoying their eternal repose:


At the end of the walk, we came across this colorfully-named wine bar:


You can read about or download Robert Wright's Legal London walk here.

That evening, the students organized a group dinner at a favorite neighborhood Italian restaurant. The food was very good, and the service was even better. The evening concluded with some of the students dancing with the owner and one of the servers. Here we are, happily sated on pasta and pizza.

mayfair and piccadilly

Slumming it in Mayfair is how Shane and I spent the afternoon of Jan. 21. We began our walk at Piccadilly Circus and then made our way up to Burlington House, the Royal Academy of Art. The courtyard features a statue of Joshua Reynolds trying to paint air.


We popped into a couple Victorian and Georgian arcades. Well felt like true flâneurs. Here's the interior of the Royal Arcade:


We passed by the Ritz Hotel (see above), through Berkeley Square (immortalized in "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square"), and walked through the gardens of The Church of the Immaculate Conception (the headquarters of the Jesuits in Britain) in Farm Street:


I was particularly thrilled to stumble across the house where Beau Brummell--dandy extraordinaire--lived.


After passing through Grosvenor Square, we made our way to Savile Row, which is where you'll find several tailors who produce snazzy and 'spensive men's clothing. It's also home to Apple Records, where the Beatles produced some of their last recordings and atop which they performed their final concert. (See this post for an account of my visit there on the 40th anniversary of the Let It Be concert.)

We ended the walk at St. James's on Piccadilly, which is the only Christopher Wren church outside the city of London, I believe.


You can read about and download Robert Wright's Mayfair walk here.

complicit

On the evening of Jan. 20, our British Theater class met at the Old Vic to see a new production: Joe Sutton's Complicit. I'd had high hopes for this one, as it stars Richard Dreyfuss and David Suchet and is directed by Kevin Spacey. Last summer I'd gone to see a near-perfect production of Pygmalion at the Old Vic, and I figured that, even though I knew next to nothing about Complicit, this venerable playhouse wouldn't let us down.

I couldn't have been more wrong. Sutton's script is a heavy-handed, unimaginative effort to engage in the ethical debates that journalists face when pressured by the state to reveal confidential sources. (The obvious inspiration is "Plamegate.") Sutton clearly wants to be this generation's Arthur Miller, but Complicit suggests that he sorely lacks the talent and the nuanced approach to complicated social issues to fill such a role.

While Suchet delivered a compelling performance as an attorney representing a journalist during a hearing designed to compel the his client to reveal a confidential source, Dreyfuss, who plays Ben, the journalist, was histrionic and unconvincing as someone supposedly beleaguered by a range of ethical issues related to his reportage on and opinions about state-sponsored torture of alleged terrorists in secret prisons around the world. Dreyfuss clearly hadn't learned his lines, and he performed with an earpiece, delivering his lines a beat or two late. He was clearly being fed lines during the performance. As Ben's wife, Elizabeth McGovern was lackluster, but to her credit, the part simply required McGovern to fail to grasp the issues surrounding her husband's dilemma and to harp on him about his responsibilities as a husband and father.

The set was fairly interesting--a glass-surfaced, round stage with television monitors both embedded within the stage and hanging above it. The best parts of the play were the moments in which the televisions came alive with footage of a CNN-style interview with Ben, but this footage also reveals Ben's inconsistencies in his thinking through the U.S. government's response to terror: at one moment he provides evidence that covert U.S. operatives are killing some prisoners to motivate others to reveal information; in the next, he's suggesting that the U.S. is "squeamish" in failing to use strong tactics in interrogating alleged terrorists.

Thus, as heavy-handed as the play is in tone ("this is about civil rights and torture, people! take this seriously!" Sutton whines), it's message is ultimately confused, as Ben fails to work through the most basic elements of his position on torture and the ethical repercussions of a journalist revealing his confidential sources.

Fortunately, the play was on the shorter side, and the torture the audience suffered was less than it might have othewise have been. Small mercies.

little venice to camden lock

On Jan. 20, Shane and I walked from Little Venice to Camden Town along the Regents Canal. I knew nothing about this part of London, and the walk along the water was beautiful. We started where the Grand Union Canal meets the Regents Canal, which was an important commercial waterway between Birmingham and London in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Later, the railways made the canals less important venues for commerce and transportation.

Along the canal are many narrow houseboats along Regents Canal; many of these are functional residences with little gardens either atop the boats or opposite them, across the walkway.



The canal forms much of the northern the border of Regent's Park, and I was surprised to see hyenas on the opposite side of the canal. Then I realized we were walking just opposite the London Zoo.

We crossed under several attractive bridges. There's Shane walking ahead of me in this first picture.



At the Cumberland Basin, the canal veers northward toward Camden Lock, where our walk ended. There we visited a pub and watched some of the live televised presidential inauguration.


Read about and download Robert Wright's Regents Canal walk here.

chelsea and the british museum

On. Jan. I took Robert Wright's walk through Chelsea. I arrived at the the Royal Hospital Chelsea--designed by Christopher Wren and established for the Chelsea pensioners in 1692--at noon, but it was closed to visitors until 2:00 pm. Since I had some time to kill, I wandered over to the Saatchi Gallery, but it was hosting a private event that day. Instead I meandered up and down the King's Road in the rain and found myself a tasty pasty for lunch. Once the hospital opened to visitors, I was able to see the Figure Court, the Chapel, and the Great Hall; then I headed out toward the embankment of the Thames.

Walking through historic Chelsea, I found Thomas Carlyle's home, Henry VIII's Chelsea Manor House, and a the place where Tobias Smollett lived.


The next day, Joyce and I went to the British Museum to catch an exhibition of six contemporary sculptors that was closing soon. Here are a couple of my favorites. Notice the shadows cast by the sculptures--comprised of dead animals--in the second photo:

kensal green

On January 18th, Shane and I traveled up to Kensal Green cemetery, and there we wandered amongst Victorian gravestones and monuments.


Some of the monuments are bizarre and overwrought; many are collapsing. This only made them more interesting, however.


The day was gray, the ground was cold and wet, so it made for a perfect day to go sloshing about in a cemetery. Nevertheless, we lingered a little too long and were locked in, but we found a gap in a chain-link fence and escaped. A couple of years ago, I was nearly trapped in Paris's Père Lachaise cemetery. It seems to be a thing with me.


Find out more about Robert Wright's walk through Kensal Green here.

Grandma Helen, 1924-2009

My grandmother, Helen Shuman Heaton, passed away on Feb. 6. She had been in a car accident last summer and had struggled to recover, so it wasn't wholly unexpected. Still, it has been sad to lose someone who has been such a an important figure in my life. I have a seemingly endless supply of entertaining Grandma Helen stories, and I love sharing them with people.

I flew to Salt Lake City for the funeral, and I'm very glad I did. It was a wonderful celebration of her life, and all her grandchildren were there. Each of the grandchildren composed a tribute, and these were displayed at the funeral. Here is what I wrote:

Right up to the sad day when I learned of her death, I was telling stories about my wonderful Grandma Helen. I was in London that day, and I was staying in a boarding house with other professors who were with me directing and teaching a London study abroad program. I had told the stories of how, in order to keep me from leaving her side, Grandma would warn me about a witch who lurked in supermarkets and department stores, ready to snatch little children who had wandered off alone. I told them about the baboon who lived outside her house that only Grandma could see, no matter how many times her grandchildren ran from window to window, desperate to catch a glimpse of it. I told them about her beauty secret—a face-mask made of mashed overripe bananas and honey. I told them about how, while visiting us in Arizona, she dressed as a Mammy figure from a long-gone South that she could still remember and burst into my high school Spanish class to ask my date to the prom for me.

All who knew her cherish their own stories about Helen Heaton, and sometimes I wonder if Grandma didn’t live her life in such a way so that those who loved her would have unique and amusing tales to remember her by.

But even more than the vivid and funny stories I fondly recall about her, I treasure memories of her equally unique and charming personality. Grandma seemed afraid of no one, and she was eager to make friends of everyone she met. She even made friends of entire strangers within the time it took them to travel the length of the escalators at ZCMI with her! Her sunny disposition was infectious, and when she was happy (“tickeled,” she called it), she would burst into a hearty laughter that always betrayed her still-girlish charm and her young, fresh, and optimistic outlook on life. She chose to pass her time with those she loved most; I spent a great deal of my growing up years in the company of my grandmother as she doted on me, played games with me, invented and sang silly songs to me, and took me on shopping adventures.

Grandma Helen always shared with others that which was most important and precious to her—her life. I know she passed from this world sharing her life and her sunny, warmhearted self with others.

I miss you now and always, Grandma.

Love, your grandson,
John

Here's a photo of me and Grandma and my Grandpa Bud at my sister's wedding: