This will be a very brief entry. What better way to spend my last Sunday afternoon in London that to spend it with the friends I have made this year at our favorite place, the Caffe Tropea. All but one of “the gang” were there and we had a lovely afternoon, one that I will remember in the coming months as I adjust to the quieter times ahead. To Jack Bond, Film Maker Extraordinaire, Tom, Jackie (and Pudding the wonder dog), Elain, Muriel, Linda, Julie, Colin and Warren (Muriel’s devoted sons), and to all of Tom and Jackie’s family who have stopped by from time to time, and to the Tropeas and their staff at Caffe Tropea. Thank you all for three months of friendship, fun, good conversation and happiness. I will miss you all and am looking forward to my return next year.

The trees in Russell Square Park are something else I will miss. Thanks to everyone who has followed my London journey.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my Friday farewells. After a morning spent starting the cleaning and packing process at Clare Court for the final time, I had an unexpected lunch with my pal James Grant at the Observatory, a favorite local cafe and photography gallery on Marchmont Street, just one block from Clare Court. It was another unseasonably warm late October day

so, James and I sat outside and talked caught up on all that had been happening since we last saw each other at his older daughter’s birthday party at the beginning of the month. James and his family are my longest standing friends in the UK, I am so glad I got to see one representative this week. After James hopped on his Brompton bike, I headed down to Caffe Tropea where I was to meet another old friend, Graham who was coming up to London to see me before I headed back home. In a happy circumstance, Graham was able to meet several of the folks who have become my “coffee crowd” and we all spent a pleasant couple of hours chatting together before Graham and I had some time to ourselves to catch up on his grown-up kids, his latest leatherwork, a skill he has taken up in recent years, and his life down on the south coast of England.

When the time came for Graham to catch his train, I hurried back to the flat, cleaned up and changed to go to dinner with Charlene, Jon and Barney, the team that have been responsible for keeping me happily ensconced in Clare Court these last several years. Circumstances have meant they are selling the flat. Charlene and Jon have owned the flat and Barney have assisted in maintenance and management. We were joined by another American friend named Jane who has also had the great luck of being Charlene and Jon’s guest at Clare Court. We had dinner at a lovely Greek restaurant called the Four Lanterns in the Fitzrovia neighborhood of London. The picture below shows

the tables right in front of the wooden railing where our party were seated. I was “the thorn between the two roses” of Charlene and Jane. Before we arrived at the restaurant, Barney was assigned to take me on something of a forced march from outer Bloomsbury into Fitzrovia to show me some other flats that Charlene and Jon wanted me to consider for next year’s London sojourn. Each was lovely, but all involved many, many steps with twists and turns. Not for me, unfortunately. Along with the walk home after dinner, it did allow me to exceed my daily “steps goal.” The food was excellent, as was the company that evening.

Saturday dawned as another warm morning, and I was out fairly early for a final visit to my “London barber” Alex at Huckle the Barber on Lamb’s Conduit. That meant, of course, the mandatory stop at Tutti for one of their excellent cafe lattes beforehand.

As I headed toward the Russell Square Tube Station, something compelled me to take a slight detour through the Brunswick Square Gardens. Almost immediately upon entering this lovely urban green space, I noticed a rose bush, still in bloom. As I walked along, I took these three photos, the third flower was right next to a lady sitting on a bench. As I took the picture with my phone, I said to her, “late bloomers” and she replied to me, “aren’t we all.” That really made my day.

From the lovely Autumn Garden, I continued to the Russell Square Tube station and made my way to the Victoria and Albert Museum for my last visit of this London sojourn. As I walked down the hall that led me toward the members’ room where I hoped to refresh myself after a rather warm tube ride, I noticed this sculpture, that reminded me of the African Fashion Exhibit that I had been meaning to catch.

I am not much of a fashionista, but one of the great things about being a “friend” of the V&A is that it gives me free entry to special exhibits like this. The fashion on show were really quite interesting, some were stunning. The diaphanous green gown reminded me of the gown my mother wore to my niece’s wedding and that she loved so much that she asked to be buried in. The boldness of the colors and styles are wonderful, and I think remind us of another reason for hope for the future.

I noticed these three castings of sculptures by Aimé-Jules Dalou, a nineteenth century Frenchman who Wikipedia says is “recognized as one of the most brilliant virtuosos of nineteenth-century France, admired for his perceptiveness, execution, and unpretentious realism.”

Note particularly the first sculpture. I will be showing some photos later from an earlier period that have a similarity that may be surprising.

Next, an interesting cast by Andrea di Cione titled “The Assumption and Death of the Virgin.” 1352 to 60.

This relates to the Catholic tradition, made dogma of the Church by Pope Pius XII in 1954, that Mary, the mother of Jesus did not die, but rather, went to sleep and was bodily assumed into Heaven. I understand that Pope Pius chose to do this because of the terrible destruction of human life and the incredible insult to the human body that took place in the Holocaust, in the war itself and in the treatment of people in the Pacific front as well. However, this 14th century depiction looks at the tradition from a simpler view.

Finally, Rossellino’s 1450-1460 “The Virgin and Child with Cherubs” and Civitali’s 1470 to 1500 “The Madonna of Coughs.”

Looking at these casts done of sculptures made in the 15th century reminded me of an art exhibition I saw in Brugge, Belgium about 20 years ago. It was a study of how the female breast was, in the 13 to 15th centuries not taboo, especially in religious art. The Madonna was frequently shown breast feeding the baby Jesus. Seeing the cast of 19th century Dalou sculpture reminded me of the earlier exhibition and these two in the cast halls have me trying to remember the historical changes that brought about the later modesty issues in this regard.

When I returned to Bloomsbury, I went to visit the efficiency apartment complex I have reserved a place in for next year. As I left, I noticed this Blue Historic Plaque, just a few a few doors away. It seemed like an appropriate way to start the Halloween weekend. Little did I think that my next stop, the local Waitrose supermarket would surprise me with Beetlejuice, a witch and Cruella DeVille (scaring a neighborhood pooch).

I wonder if my last day and a half will be as exciting!

As you walk out of the Holborn Tube Station on the Picadilly Line, Southampton Row becomes Kingsway. It is a fairly normal stretch of city street with tall grey buildings on each side of a traffic clogged road. You would certainly not be blamed if you missed the full glass doors that grace the front of the Roman Catholic Church of St Anselm and St Cæcilia. The current church

building dates back to 1909. It replaced the chapel of the Royal Sardinian Embassy that had gradually become a parish church for the area. The old chapel had a long history that included destruction centuries ago during anti-Catholic riots and bombing by the Nazis during World War II. The current church is said to keep aspects of the old chapel and, indeed, the coat of arms of the House of Savoy (Sardinia and Italy’s former Royal family). When I first entered the church, it seemed like, maybe it was a bit plain. But then I took a better look. And these photos show some of the simple beauty I saw within and the peace I felt from the several people I saw kneeling in prayer throughout the church. The first row shows traditional statuary of saints not found as often in more recently built Catholic churches, but very popular in churches in Italian parishes throughout Europe and America. See my pictures of the Italian Church in Clerkinwell that I visited the morning that Queen Elizabeth died. In the first picture, it would appear that the feet on the Statue of Saint Peter, the first Pope, have been rubbed to a shine by years of passing pilgrims and worshipers. No, folks, I have no idea why. I believe that is Saint Christopher next to the side Altar in the second picture, and that is a statue of

Saint Thomas Moore in the third picture. The cold war between the Anglican and Roman tradition lives on in small and large ways in the UK and in Rome. As a “cradle Catholic” who has come to admire the good aspects of both traditions, it saddens me that they cannot find a way to reconcile their differences. The second row of photos begins with a sculpture that older Catholics will recognize as the Sacred Heart of Jesus, another very traditional statue. The middle is the very lovely, very simple altar. Third is Mary, holding Jesus. The third row shows some of the pipes for the organ, to the right of the altar, a painting of Jesus being taken from the cross, and next, one of the stations of the cross that are found on the walls around the church, another traditional Catholic devotional form of prayer. The final large picture is a lovely stained-glass window depicting the resurrection of Jesus.

The next day on my Finals Week Tour I started with a quick trip to Craven Cottage for a visit to the Fulham FC shop to spend a bit of money. After buying a colorful shirt to wear at the beach or pool this winter and a few ornaments for my Florida Christmas tree, I decided that rather than getting a taxi or uber, I would walk back through Bishopsgate Park on a fine October day and take the Tube from Putney Bridge Station. Below are some pictures I took as I walked through this beautiful park that always provides me with such happiness no matter how the results of a Fulham home match turn out.

I had two more churches in South Kensington on my list that I hoped to visit before returning to home base. The First was Saint Augustine’s. When I arrived there, I saw a crowd of people lined up outside. I noticed that the front glass door appeared to be open, so I went in. The worship space had tables set up with tablecloths where the pews would be. A gentleman told me that they were preparing for a community event, I snapped a quick photo and left. The church looks lovely, it is on the list for next year.

I walked over to the second church which was on the other side of the “South Ken” tube station. Much to my dismay, it was locked up. It is only opened on Wednesdays and Sundays! This was Holy Trinity Church on Prince Consort Road. As Arnold would say, “I’ll be back!”

So, second interesting church closed, I started walking back toward the Tube station and realized I was near the Royal School of Music and the back side of the Royal Albert Hall. I took a quick picture of each of them and then noticed the Imperial College of Technology and Science Building with the entrance of the Royal School of Mines on the side I was passing. Having worked with many great scientists and engineers (including mining engineers) I had to take a picture of this fine building too.

From there I returned to Russell Square and headed over to Caffe Tropea where I found my friends Elain, Muriel and Muriel’s sons who are like a comic routine. The two guys love their mother, who, as I’ve mentioned in a previous blog, is a wise woman and a very funny one as well. Her sons have inherited her good qualities and we always have some great laughs when “the boys” come along.

“The end is nigh!” Sunday morning was a grey rainy start to the final week, plus one day of my London stay. It was also the day of the final 11:30 AM concert at Wigmore Hall. I have shown several views of the

Wigmore Hall, this one gives an idea of the main seating. There is a balcony above the back. Most of the audience sits in the area shown. I was able to get there early enough to grab a coffee in the restaurant downstairs this time, a fete that only the early bird can be sure of accomplishing. Believe me, those classical music fans are strategic and get their tables early and do not give them up until it’s time to get upstairs to the concert.

This week, we were lucky to be entertained by Amsterdam’s Dudok Quartet. They performed Tchaikovsky’s String Quartet No. 1 in D. Opus 11 and Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 5 in B Flat Opus 92. The Tchaikovsky piece sent me off on ponderous thoughts of the state of things and of how to fix the

things that cannot be fixed. Shostakovich, on the other hand, was more of a powerful and uplifting piece that brought a positive energy to the room. I think it also fully showed the enormous talent of these four young musicians who received three curtain calls and played a lovely brief encore piece before sending the crowd off for the traditional glass of sherry or cup of coffee.

The United Kingdom granted the historian and political geeky side of me one more gift in this unusual year, when the Tories, the ruling Conservative Party, chose Rishi Sunak to replace Liz Truss as their party leader. Liz has now formally submitted her resignation to King Charles at Buckingham Palace and Rishihas followed her there and the King has asked him to form a new government. He becomes the first Prime Minister of Asian descent to hold the office and the first non-Christian. He will also be the youngest since William Pitt the Younger. Many in the UK felt that, while the rules did not require it, the

better solution for choosing a new Prime Minister would have been to hold a general election. However, conventional wisdom was that the Tories would probably have lost the parliamentary majority. They chose to continue to govern until the next required election in a little less than two years.

Some fun along the way to a visit down memory lane. My friend Sally mentioned that her daughter, who we jokingly call “young Dr. Krahn,” as both she and her father are annoyingly brilliant PhDs (as is her husband), would be in town the week I return from London. I realized this would be a chance for me to possibly see her and her two kids. Young Dr. K and her brother are among a group I call my “nearly nieces and nephews” because I feel as close to them as I do my own beloved niece and (in the case of these two), I’ve watched them grow up.

This led me back to Camden Market in search of some special tee shirts for the little ones. I had just about given up on finding what I was looking for when I stumbled across “Darkwear,” a delightfully offbeat shop at the far end of the Market. It sells a wide range of gothic clothing and band tee shirts, including kids’ sizes. This place was like heaven for a tee shirt junkie like me. I found tees for the kids and threw in a few for myself too. If the beaches ever open in Naples this winter, I’ll be the one in one of the unlikely band tee shirts. The customer service at the shop was outstanding. I recommend stopping there if you visit Camden Market. The staff are a nice bunch.

I think I may have mentioned my talented SUNY Oneonta classmate Madeline Morrow, an artist whose work is shown in many venues around London. When I visited the Chelsea Art Show, a few weeks back, her works had already sold out. Madeline graciously invited me to the opening of The Fulham Art Society Show at the Fulham Library’s Exhibition Room. What a talented group of artists provided works for this show! It was worth the delays on the Tube and the nearly one mile walk that Google Maps gifted me by suggesting I get off at the wrong stop. But eventually, I arrived and was able to catch up with my dear friend whose works are as inspiring as she is. Here we are looking at two of her works.

It is always something special to share a London moment with a friend I have known since those golden days in Oneonta back in the 1970s.

There is so much at this time of year to remind me of the past, the second anniversary of the passing of a dear Oneonta pal Bob, “Duffy” Dyer, just a few days ago, my visit with Barbara and Kuhrt in Denmark where we always enjoy memories of the early days of our friendship in DC, and special days. Two dear friends, Louis Spadanuta, who passed away in December, would have turned 69 on October 24th, Lou was my childhood best pal from the age of about 3 through our Junior High years. Bob Messina, who picked up the bestie role in High School also celebrates the same week. I commemorate my dad’s 44th birthday in heaven this week, as well as the 47th anniversary of the wedding of two people who I met at SUNY Oneonta, Alan Shapiro, my college best pal and Gail Adams. Al asked me to be his best man. Gail’s best friend since childhood, another Oneontan, Jean Fried (now Green) was Matron of Honor. Oh, what a night it was at Temple Electchester! Sadly, Al left this world in 1996. Gail raised their daughters and now is married to a great fellow. But later October fills me with the joy of the memories of good times and family and good friends and that touch of sadness that comes when I recall that some are gone. But the good times remain with us and that is what counts. As my friend Muriel reminds us, all the time when our coffee chats get heavy here in London, ‘you decide to be happy, and you decide to get up and get on with life.’ This has served her well for over 80 years.