The Sultan's Elephant

Imagine this... it's Sunday afternoon, you're in Piccadilly Circus, and it's incredibly busy. Nothing unusual, you say? no, except this time, there are no cars, and it's packed only with people, as far as the eye can see.

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You notice they're all craning in one direction... you turn and look, but you can't see anything... a child's voice calls, 'He's coming!' and you look further down Piccadilly, in the direction of Green Park.

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And there, in the distance...

...no, that's impossible. It looks like -

- no, such things simply do not happen, not in the centre of London. It looks like -

- well, it looks like an elephant.

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You hear a sound now, a throbbing, and a thumping; it's in time with the creature's movements, and now you see he's definitely getting closer. His ears are flapping slowly; his trunk is coiling and twisting, and his eyes blink, his long lashes feathering the air...

...you hear music; the thumping is louder now, it's tribal drums, and there are singing voices, and guitars; a hypnotic and infectious tune that, in other circumstances, would have you dancing. But not today, not now; there's this elephant; and he's getting closer, and your jaw is dropping in awe, and - yes - delight.

His trunk raises itself up, and water sprays over the crowd; you hear squeals and laughter and people shouting... you can see his huge legs moving; pacing deliberately as he comes nearer... the leathery ears flap, he looks around him, and keeps coming. He's closer and closer; you can see the enormous curved tusks, banded about with gold and crimson; there are rows of brass studs in his ears, and they glint in the sunlight... suddenly his mouth opens, and he bellows; trumpetingly, deafeningly. He's HUGE, the people are tiny before and around him... he moves on, and they scatter, but you hold your ground; he's impossibly close, and impossibly large; he looms above you.

There has never been anything like this. You are grinning as widely as a person can grin; the impossibility, the absurdity, the incredible beauty is almost too much to comprehend.

He stops beside you. He is near enough to touch and you look up, almost vertically, past the howdah on his back and into the sky.

His massive feet shift; he bellows again, and slowly begins to move once more. He paces around the circus, passes Eros and the Trocadero, and slowly disappears south east. The drums and music fade...

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(There's obviously more to this story, but I think you should find it out for yourselves... Hint: a Google search on my subject line will set you in the right direction ;)).

Update: click here for some amateur (but pretty well edited) footage of the event, on YouTube.

Look what I saw today

The East End is interesting.

(And yes, that's West Ham United football stadium in the background).

Winter Activities

Despite some very cold weather, I've been out and about quite a lot this winter... a few selected highlights, in no particular order or anyfing:

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Mary Stuart at the Apollo in Shaftesbury Avenue (Piccadilly)

This Schiller play was getting rave reviews, so when Rachel phoned and asked if I wanted to go, of course I said yes... we booked for that same evening, and were truly up in the gods - we had to go up about five flights of stairs, and were in seats with such a steep gradient down to the stage that if we sat back in them we could see nothing at all... in the end I spent most of the evening sitting on the edge of my folded up seat, and leaning on the gallery railing in front, to see the action from above... a very powerful play, and well worth it.

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Piaggi at the Tate and a Wander Up Through Knightsbridge to Harrods

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One sullen Wednesday afternoon I met up with Anita, Eddie and Renata, who was visiting from Australia, at the V&A. We went to the members' advanced showing for the Anna Piaggi exhibition, then spent time in the caf (where that photo of me in a previous post was taken) and then walked up the Cromwell Road, through Knightsbridge and past Harrods... Renata had never been to Harrods before so we just had to show her its excesses.

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That's Renata and I over on the left! anyone notice?

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Sleeping Beauty at the Coliseum (Charing Cross)

I caught up with some friends in early January, and they invited me out to lunch and the ballet after; I had SUCH a lovely day. The ballet is a real Christmas favourite, but not seen as often as Nutcracker, so it was particularly special to see it.

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A Walk Around London

During the most recent half-term I had a lovely day out with Anita and Eddie, and some friends of theirs who were visiting from Australia - Rachel and Lily. We met at the Tate, and spent about an hour seeing some of the best of the collection - this has long been one of my favourites:

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Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent

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We then walked up along the river, past Westminster and up to Trafalgar Square,

stopping for lunch in the crypt in St Martin's-in-the-Fields,

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and then walking down through St James' Park, past Buckingham Palace and into Green Park for a perfect winter sunset. After making our way back up past Green Park tube station and the Ritz Hotel, we met up with Sharon in Fortnum and Mason, then the others left to walk back to Baker Street and Sharon and I went on for dinner in the Japan Centre. Sushi - nothing like it in this world...

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Seven Seconds of Love at the Oxford Street Metro

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Liz, who lives around the corner and with whom I went to work most mornings last year, invited me to this fantastic gig... her two boys started the band and she often goes to see them play. The Metro could probably be classified as a smoky dive, located under Oxford Street near the Tottenham Court Road, and there were a few bands on the line-up... none as good as these guys though. They're hilarious and absurd and SO much fun; I guess they could be described as punk meets ska meets Edward Lear.

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Henri Rousseau: Jungles in Paris (Tate Modern)

I'm a member of the Tate now, so ended up going to this exhibition twice - I didn't know much about Rousseau before, but liked it a lot. Great use of colours and shapes, and a fascinating and slightly dreamlike take on jungles, and a contrasting very prosaic view of urban Paris. Sharon came with me once, and the other time I went alone - wandered about the white boxes that time too.

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Portobello Road and Notting Hill

One Sunday Sharon and I met at Notting Hill Gate tube station, and spent a lovely day wandering down the Portobello Road... we chose one thing in every shop we went into, though we didn't spend any money, and ended up at a great place right down the end, drinking cocktails and eating lamb kebabs... we made it back up to the other end in time to go and see Brokeback Mountain in the Coronet; a great film in a wonderful space.

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China: The Three Emperors (Royal Academy of Arts)

I'm a member at the RA (I'm a member EVERYWHERE, man ;)), so this was another exhibition I went to more than once... three times in total, as it happens; once alone, once with Anita and Eddie (who LOVED the big quiet echoey spaces to shout in :D) and once with Sharon, before our sushi dinner... this is an absolutely incredible exhibition; paintings and artefacts and all sorts of amazing items. My favourites were a series of massive paintings on silk, six from a set of twelve, depicting the Emperor enjoying himself throughout the lunar year. The level of detail was extraordinary, and I could have spent an hour in front of each one and still found more to look at and enjoy.

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Tower of St Augustine Refurbishment (Hackney)

This was something I just got lucky with... I was walking through Hackney churchyard, on another errand entirely, and saw that the hoardings, which had been around the base of the tower for a few weeks, were open. I've wondered ever since I came to live here what's inside the tower, and it's not open to the public, so I wasn't going to lose such an opportunity, and I wandered over to have a sticky-nose. There were three workmen in there, doing some paving at the entrance, and they seemed quite happy to stop work for a little while and have a chat... it ended up with me being allowed inside, to see the nameless crypt, the clock workings, the rope that spiralled dizzily up into the tower, serving as a handrail for those fortunate enough to be climbing up there, and hearing tales about digging and bones and other discoveries... it was SO interesting, and I was so glad I'd gone across to have a look.

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Borough Market

Sharon and I went through Borough Market on the same day we went to see Rousseau... it was a freezing sunny day just before Christmas, and we had a wonderful time looking at all the Christmas fare; pheasants and rabbits hanging, mustards, pates and sauces, seafood, jams and chocolates and everything else you can think of... it was bustling, of course, but we found a place called S&M (Sausages & Mash), and had exactly that (superior versions, of course; venison and wild boar and similar). And it was outstanding.

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Tom Hunter: Living in Hell and Other Stories (National Gallery)

Something else I did with Sharon! And fairly recently... we met outside the National Gallery a couple of Sundays ago, and went in just to spend an hour so... and we stumbled upon this exhibition. Tom Hunter is a Hackney artist and photographer, and this is his first exhibition at the National Gallery, as far as I know. He uses the composition of classical paintings as inspiration for many of his photographs, which are in turn inspired by the often-lurid headlines of the Hackney Gazette.

Left: Woman Reading a Possession Order, by Tom Hunter

Right: Girl Reading a Letter By an Open Window, by Vermeer

Top: The Way Home, by Tom Hunter

Bottom: Ophelia, by John Everett Millais

Please note: very few of these photos were actually taken by me :(

Sorry :(

Thank you, however, to Anita, who always sends on the lovely photos she takes when we're out together :D xx

Scrapbook: The Alhambra

In August I fulfilled a dream: I spent four days in Granada, Spain, and visited the ancient citadel of the Alhambra, with its palaces and gardens. The town was fascinating and beautiful as well - more on that another time - but the only reason for the visit was the Alhambra; ever since seeing photos, when I was still at school, of its water gardens, and hearing little bits of its history, I had wanted to go, so when I had the opportunity (well - made the opportunity ;) ), I took it.

Having heard horror stories about day-long queues, I had booked my ticket ahead of time, and caught one of the first buses up the hill, while it was still relatively cool, but I still only made it into the second group allowed into the Nasrid Palaces. I spent some time wandering in the gardens beforehand, discovering beautiful places of calm and quiet and long early morning shadows and the sound of plashing water. When it was finally my turn to walk down that shadowed entrance way and through the ancient doors I found I had tears in my eyes, and had to laugh at myself to banish them.

The Nasrid Palaces are beautiful mazes of courtyards, halls, intricately carved windows, columns, flowing water, cool tiled floors... everywhere your eyes turn there is something beautiful to see, and the sound of the constantly flowing water is more than pleasing to the ears; it seems to actually cut some of the heat from the air. The rooms are peaceful and shadowed and cool; many of the courtyards are bright and singing with light and heat.

The Courtyard of Lindaraja, on the left, is shady and cool; the Courtyard of the Lions, below, is one of the most famous areas within the Nasrid Palaces, and still contains the original lion fountain. The slender pillars at one end, holding aloft the stone canopy which shades the shallow channels of water, reminded me of a grove of palm trees.

After leaving the Nasrid Palaces one comes out into the Partal; gardens and pools arranged on many levels, overlooking the city below. By the time I entered the Partal it was the middle of the day and very warm - over forty degrees - but it was still a pleasant place to wander, and everywhere, everywhere, the restful sight and sound of water.

I then left this part of the complex, and walked over to the Generalife, a summer palace and retreat of the court. I hadn't known it, but this was what I had been waiting so long to see - one of the water gardens there was instantly recognisable as the one in the photograph that I had seen when I was twelve.

The gardens of the Generalife are so beautiful as to be indescribable. I can tell you what they look like; show you photos - my best photos, chosen from the multitude I took that day - but it will still not come close to the beauty of those gardens.

I'm going back to the Alhambra one day.