An Old Fashioned Establishment

On Wednesday, Miriam and I drove to Tetbury, a journey of about 90 minutes, to visit Highgrove, the private estate of Prince Charles.  We were both amused and forewarned when we arrived at the gate to see a sign that read:  "Beware!  You are now entering an old fashioned establishment."

Highgrove is a beautiful Georgian house surrounded by among the best gardens I have ever seen -- and it is these that are open to the public on a limited number of days (we booked these tickets last January).  Charles bought the property around 1980.  The house was situated in a rather plain park but he saw great potential in the estate to experiment with his ideas about organic gardening and that is precisely what he has done.  The result is a series of magnificent garden "rooms" each surrounded by sculpted hedges.  From the yellow boxwood garden, each plant trimmed into fantastical shapes, to the wildflower meadow, the entire garden displays a creativity and playfulness one is not prone to think of in connection with Charles.  It was wonderful to have a guided tour because we learned so much about the processes involved in creating what we were seeing, including the failures as well as the successes.

We were forbidden to take photographs -- no doubt for security purposes -- but I honestly don't know how I would have chosen what photograph to take since everywhere one turned was a prospect that simply delighted the eye.  After a couple of hours in the garden, we had lunch in the little dining room.  Everything was so tasteful and the staff so gracious.  Truly a quality (indeed, royal) experience.  Here are some photos from the web site.

The Royal Shakespeare Company

On Tuesday night, Miriam and I went to see the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Volpone by Ben Johnson.  Why, one might ask, go see a play that was first performed in 1605?  Why even produce it?  Well, it is about incredibly rich, incredibly privileged people who think they are entitled to anything they want.  Henry Goodman played the title role.  He is an actor who has had an amazing career on the British stage, but he has appeared in virtually no films.  I think the only one in which we in the U.S. might have seen him was Notting Hill.  It is a shame we don't see more of such performers.

Volpone, who keeps a dwarf, a castrato and a hermaphrodite around for kicks, tries to wrest from three other super-rich businessmen all their money.  He pretends to be dying and says he will choose his heir based on who gives him the best presents, tries to persuade one of the men to disinherit his son and another to lend him his wife.  There's also a subplot with a Kardashian-style female that was absolutely hilarious.  In the end, of course, Mosca, the assistant to whom Volpone has taught all his tricks, outfoxes his master.  How this large and talented cast managed to keep us all mesmerized for three hours was due in large part to some very creative updating of the script and to Goodman's dynamism. He was onstage nearly every minute and just dominated every scene in which he appeared, including while lying on his (supposed) death bed.

We were fortunate to be attending the play on an evening when the cast comes out afterwards for a Q&A session with the audience.  Hearing them talk about their craft, the rehearsal process, and the dynamic between actors and audience was itself a master acting class.  I was so enthused by Goodman's performance that Miriam and I have arranged to watch the DVD of The Merchant of Venice, in which she says he plays the best Shylock she's ever seen.

On Thursday evening, we'll be seeing Othello in which black actors have been cast both as Othello and as Iago.  After all this time, it seems a bit odd that this is still viewed as something of a daring innovation.  Nevertheless, it is a production that has gotten much more mixed reviews than Volpone.

Deep in English History and Landscape

School Shakespeare Attended, Stratford

Holy Trinity Church, Stratford

Stratford is hardly a small town, but in spite of the enormous enterprise that is the Royal Shakespeare Company, it is really quite a gentle little place.  On Monday, I had several opportunities to wander.  The school at left is still right in the center of town as is Holy Trinity Church where he was baptized and buried.


At the entrance to the theater complex there is a wonderful boat basin formed in the Avon River and a grand walk along the canal that borders that side of the town.  (The canal goes on to Birmingham.)

Holy Trinity Church from the Boat Basin

On Tuesday, Miriam and I drove the hour or so it took to get to Stowe, a National Trust Property.  The house, which is now a "public" school is still in the process of restoration, but the park is open, enormous and the landscape views are stunning.  One speaks of English gardens, but there are really two kinds.  One is a flower garden, usually dense with blooms with many different plants arranged together into a harmonious whole.  Stowe is really not a garden in this sense at all.  Rather is is what the 19th century novelists I read so often would call a "park" and what is now called a landscape garden.  There is hardly a flower to be seen.  Instead, neoclassical structures are 'arranged' in stunning settings of woodland, meadows, streams and lakes.  And each setting is designed to be discovered from a different angle as one walks along the paths.  Stowe is done on such a grand scale that it is absolutely breathtaking.

Although the weather was cool, cloudy and somewhat windy, we enjoyed our three-mile jaunt enormously.

Palladian Bridge, Stowe Garden

Queen's Tample

Temple of Concord and Victory

On the Road Again

58 Albany Road

After a long but pleasant flight, I am happily ensconced at 58 Albany Road, Stratford-upon-Avon in Miriam's upstairs bedroom with a view through a rain-spotted window of her delightful little back garden.  Think Seattle in a normal June and you've about got Stratford today.  I was out clipping lettuces for a dinner salad just a few minutes ago.

The Back Garden

No English welcome would be complete without tea, scones and jam, so I have a happy tummy even though a muddled brain.  We are in a contest to see if I can survive until some normal bed time:).  Odds are not.  Miriam is off with a friend to a reading of Keats, an invitation that I declined.  I'll see how my new mystery, Murder on the Île Sordou, works to keep me awake.  What a lovely change of pace!