Once Upon A Time In London

This is the tale of the adventures of a native Oregonian in London.

29 May 2007

A Brief History of York

The year is AD71 and the Roman Ninth Legion is sent north to subdue the Celtic tribes known as the Brigantes. They set up camp at the junction of the Rivers Ouse and Foss. They call it Eboracum, “the place of yew trees”.

After the Brigantes are conquered, the camp becomes a permanent fortress. Eventually a civilian town springs up around it, and Eboracum becomes the most important military base in the north.

But the Roman occupation of Britannia is not to last forever. In 400AD, a little over 300 years after they arrived, the Roman Legions march from Britannia forever, leaving behind empty stone buildings and a country no longer able to defend itself.

In the 5th century Germanic tribes invaded, taking Eboracum and renaming it Eoforwic, meaning “wild boar settlement”. Personally, I think the yew thing was a nicer naming. But nobody asked me.

By the 8th century Eoforwic dominated the north of Britain. And then the Vikings came.

Ivar the Boneless and his hordes of Danish Vikings overran Eoforwic on 1st November 866. The Vikings had big plans. They were tired of raping and pillaging, sacking and burning, and wanted to settle down to the peaceful life of farmers. So, they renamed Eoforwic to Jorvik (Boar Estuary – not getting any better with the name thing here) and settled down to grow rutabagas and trade wool and whatnot. Jorvik became a major river port and the Vikings gussied it up laying out new streets and expanding the city walls.

Over the years there were uprisings, rebellions and Norwegian invasions. Eventually the Normans invaded and in 1069AD took over the town renaming it York. One might think they’d finally gotten the name right. Unfortunately, York means boar. They should have stuck with Eboracum.

Over the next 300 years, York became the second largest city in all of England. It was the capital of the North and hugely prosperous, but it all came falling down. The population began a decline, the wool trade moved elsewhere, the War of the Roses was followed by plague upon plague. York’s glory was a thing of the past. It became, instead, a military outpost of sorts.

In Georgian times, all that finally changed. The military moved out, and the posh set moved in. The aristocracy and gentry began taking up residence in York, turning it into THE social and cultural centre for the north. Many new elegant Georgian town houses were built, and York enjoyed a new era of gentility and refinement.

Today York is overrun by tourists, including yours truly, queuing up for a chance to tour the York Dungeons or take tea at one of the delightful little tearooms. Music loud enough to wake the ghosts of those old Romans rattles the cobbles of the town centre and men in cheap plastic centurion costumes urge visitors to visit the Roman Baths. The poor Vikings would probably run in fear.

But underneath the tourist trap still lies York in all its glory. Narrow cobbled alleyways dominated by medieval shops and houses grace the riverside. Gracious Georgian homes still peek from between modern buildings and over it all resides the last bastion of the Norman invasion… the remaining tower of the grand fortress that once was York.

And so, my lords and ladies, we begin….

14 May 2007

Welcome to The Doll's House!



If you know me at all, you know I love going to tea. There's nothing so exciting as finding a lovely, quaint little tea house that serves delicious delicacies in a delightful setting. Lucky for me, I have fabulous friends who totally agree with me!




Sunday was Tea Day. Ray and Neashon are a brother and sister who are very dear friends of mine. One of their favourite past times is going to tea. And this time they invited me along! (Mish was invited, too, but she couldn't go. :( Next time!)



We went to a lovely little place called The Doll's House in Harrow-on-the-Hill, a very posh part of London. Unlike many tea rooms who go for the Victorian era in decor, The Doll's House gives a nod to the 1940s. With polka dot table cloths, vintage posters, and Dean Martin crooning away, it's like a step back in time. Thank goodness I wore my pencil skirt!











The food is delicious! We order sandwiches from the lunch menu as we're all ravenous. Mine is honey ham, cheddar cheese and tomato on toasted brown bread. After lunch we settle back with a pot of tea each (I go for the exotic Assam, Ray chooses the manly Earl Grey, and Neash goes with the aromatic English Breakfast). The tea is served in pots the would have been very at home in 1940 while the teacups and saucers are the delightful mix-matched traditional variety in various patterns and florals. Along with the tea comes cake! All the cakes at The Doll's House are home made from scratch and are gorgeous! Neashon chooses Victorian sponge cake with clotted cream and fresh strawberries, Ray goes for the St. Lucia Banana cream cake, and I pick the sinful chocolate cake (any surprise there?). Naturally, we all have to try each other's cakes to see what each type tastes like. They are all to die for!













Stuffed to the gills with delicious food and tea, we decide a walk about the town is in order. We stroll up the hill pass the churches and the posh Harrow School. We take a wander through the cemetery stopping now and then to smell the irises laden with raindrops or read the really bad poetry on the grave markers.





At the end of the path is a lookout with amazing views across the valley.
There is a plaque which marks the lookout. On the plaque is a poem by Byron. Yes, that Byron. The famous poet. He attended Harrow School and the spot marked by the plaque was his favourite spot to relax and write poetry.





After finally burning off about a teaspoon worth of cake, we headed to a favourite pub of Neash and Ray's called The Castle. One would have thought we had enough liquid sloshing about in our systems, but a fabulous day doesn't really end until one enjoys a coffee and some chunky chips dunked in malt vinegar.


And so the day finally ended with the last chunky chip. We all agreed it was a day well spent and we must do this again very soon.

Next up... will I talk Ray and Neashon into joining me for salsa lessons? Stay tuned!





Girl's Night Out!

It's girl's night out and we are ready to party!


It's important to get together now and then with your girl friends, let your hair down and have a great time. Boy, did we ever have a great time Saturday night!



Tina (on the left in blue - next to platinum blond Ann) kindly made arrangements for us to dine in style and dance the night away at Latino's in Windsor. Now, one might make the mistake of assuming that a restaurant named Latino's would be Spanish in nature and serve tacos alongside salsa music. One would be wrong. As Barbara raises her diet Coke to us, let me tell you what Latino's really is.

Tucked snugly between other buildings far older than the country in which I was born is a narrow shop of indeterminate history. Wooden floors, narrow stairs and low ceilings mark it as most likely belonging to the architectural era of Really Really Old Stuff. The decor of whitewashed walls and ceramic statuary marks it as belonging to a culture even older than that (if you can imagine). Because the statues are of Athena, Apollo, Aphrodite. The restaurant is Greek. Go figure.

It's 8 o'clock and we're all hungry. No delicate eaters here! For an appetizer I order delicious mushrooms sauteed in a garlic and white wine sauce. Mmmmm. Gemma, seated next to me, orders hummus with pita bread. Yummy! The others order everything from deep fried feta cheese to something involving fish. Ew.

The main course is chicken kebab for Gemma and me. The others order salmon, fish kebabs, and lamb dishes. The chicken is ok, but I've had better. But all in all the meal is fine. Dessert is a luscious strawberry cheesecake. Ummmm. Unfortunately, there was nothing of the chocolate variety on the menu. I distrust restaurants that don't serve chocolate.

Finally, the lights were dimmed and the keyboard plinking musician plucked up his mandolin (ok, it's actually a Greek instrument called the Bouzoukia) and began strumming all kinds of classic Greek music. Well, I'm not sure Zorba the Greek is all that classic, but you get the picture. Tambourines were passed around and Jenny started banging on hers with vigour! (Yours truly had to have a turn, as well!)

And then the dancing started.

Now, to say that the taverna is cozy is something of an understatement. Basically, you have to really like your neighbor. And hope that he/she is wearing deodorant. There is no dance floor, just narrow walkways between tables. That stopped no one. Nearly all of us were on our feet, in the aisles, dancing to Greek music and having an absolute blast! We didn't even miss the plate smashing! (Hey, when you're elbow to armpit, there's no throwing breakables unless you want a trip to the ER.)

As the evening wound down and the waiters kicked us out onto the streets of Windsor we passed by a bunch of drunk German tourists on bicycles. Only in England.

Can't wait until the next Girl's Night Out!





















08 May 2007

A Weekend of Laziness

Due to circumstances beyond my control, absolutely nothing exciting happened this weekend.

NEVER FEAR!

The afternoon tea will take place next Sunday, the 13th. I promise to snap a few shots and post them as soon as possible.

York is still in the offing. The last weekend in May, to be precise.

And I will make it to London and take loads of pictures.

Until next time!