Chapter 37: Buckingham Palace & Notting Hill

Buckingham Palace is only open to the public for the two months which Queen Elizabeth spends in Scotland, so filled with memories of Petey and I pretending to be Prince Charles and Princess Anne when we were kids, I booked tickets for something called "A Royal Day Out." My day out starts at The Royal Mews.

The Main Entrance. In 1785 the gate porter at the Mews was charged with strict orders "to suffer no loose, idle or suspicious persons, or women of the town to lurk or harbour near the Mews and to shut the gate at ten at night." Knowing that two or three of these labels could be applied to me, I do not linger and instead join the other tourists and enter the Mews quadrangle.
To the uninitiated, the Royal Mews is that part of Buckingham Palace which houses the means of transport for the Royals, especially the carriages and horses, and provides everything needed to manage such a task, especially for the pomp and circumstance of ceremonial occasions.

Part of the Royal Stables, now housing displays, including small sleds, wagons and carriages.
A training ring. During the entire tour I only saw six horses and those I did see refused to pose for photos. (I think they knew about the Christmas I looked after my neighbour's horse; not only did he get out of the barn, but he stepped on my foot ON PURPOSE and neighed mockingly at me. I had very unkind words for him, so I think I am on some sort of horsey hit list!)

The Irish State Coach is one of the many in the Mews. Built in 1803 and purchased by Queen Victoria in Dublin in 1852, it was rebuilt in 1911 following a fire and completely restored in 1989. This is the coach the Queen normally uses to travel to Westminster for the State Opening of Parliament.
The Scottish State Coach. Each of the coaches is tucked into a separate coach house, rather difficult to photograph. This coach was first built in 1830.
The so-called Glass Coach, built in 1881, is noted for its unusual comfort because of its excellent suspension. Usually seen as the second coach in the Opening of Parliament procession, it is also the coach used by royal brides to travel to their weddings, most memorably for me, the "marriage" of Lady Diana Spencer on 9 July 1981.

A life-size display inside the Gold State Coach House, itself a fascinating sight, with four horses and two postillion riders; they (the horses) wear the No. 1 State Harness, the red Morocco set made in 1792.
The Gold State Coach is probably the best-known coach in the world and is so ornate to my eye that it is difficult to imagine it even being used for anything other than an illustration in a children's book about Magical Kingdoms! Built in 1762 by George III, it weights four tonnes and needs eight horses. It is most notably used in Coronations since 1821.

The coach is gilded all over and features four Tritons or sea gods and palm trees. As Horace Walpole snorted in his diary: "The supports are Tritons, not very well adapted for land carriage and formed of palm trees, which are as little aquatic as Tritons are terrestrial!"

A detail of one of the Tritons, and a door panel painted by the Florentine artist and engraver Giovanni Battista Cipriani (1727-85).

The only one of the Queen's Rolls-Royce Phantoms on display today. As far as I can tell, this is the 1950 Phantom IV Rolls-Royce made by H. J. Mulliner, often used by The Prince of Wales on official engagements.

Next, I walk up the road to the Queen's Gallery, housing treasures from the Queen's Collection, which consists of those works of art held in trust by the Queen for the people. The featured exhibit this summer is the collection of French Sèvres Porcelain.

Security for entering Buckingham Palace reminds me of Heathrow Airport at its most paranoid. It's a wonder I am permitted to carry my camera with me, but I am quite sure that it will be confiscated if I sneak it out for a surreptitious photo.

There is no way that I can do justice to the stunning beauty of the Palace State Rooms. It is not just the brilliance of the design of the rooms, but the attention to exquisite detail. A beautiful painting or an objet d'art is beautiful alone, but associated with hundreds of others equally gorgeous, one experiences an overwhelming sense of awe. I overhear people exclaiming "Oh my!" and "Wow!" and like sounds of appreciation. This summer, as part of the two-hour tour, we see many of the Queen's gowns as worn on various state visits. Some look rather "frowsy" but others are quite splendid. (I have run out of superlatives and empty adjectives, so I shall say no more.) If ever in London in August or September, spend the outrageously dear admission price and see the State Rooms of Buckingham Palace.

The West Front of Buckingham Palace remains substantially intact from the original design by Thomas Nash, starting in 1825. During the summer months the terrace is converted by the addition of tents and awnings to accommodate the tourists, including a terrace cafe to the left.

There are a dozen vases on the terrace balustrade, the bell-shaped ones designed by Thomas Grimsley in 1829 and the urns by Blashfield in the 1830s. I love the "naughtiness" of so much of the Royal art; two of the Rubens paintings in the Queen's Gallery are even described as "sensuously erotic" and they were purchased by Queen Victoria.

The lawn at the West Front is used for the numerous garden parties hosted by the Queen, each for around 8,000 guests.

A view above the terrace shows one of the reliefs designed by John Flaxman and carved by Sir Richard Westmacott from Malta stone in 1831. They depict scenes from the life of Alfred the Great.

We exit the Tour by walking down one side of the 40-acre Garden, described as a habitat for hundreds of plant and animal species. I chance upon a heron on the lake, which a warden tells me has plenty of fish to feed waterfowl; he tells me that Canada Geese frequently stop here in this oasis in the heart of London.

On the East Front of the Palace, about which I wrote in an earlier blog after attending the Changing of the Guard, I focus mostly on details.

Note this little cherub "guarding" a key hole on the end gate towards the north end of the Palace. The tumbling cherub is modelled on William Gilbert's infant daughter. Today, it seems, opening and closing the gates is entirely electronic, and security barriers rise as soon as a vehicle enters or leaves. I watch an armed policeman "go ballistic" when a woman foolishly wanders through the open gate as the security mechanism rises; she quickly retreats, now aware that these guards with their assault guns are not here to amuse the tourists. Was it Victoria who famously said, "We are not amused"?

Above, the main gate, designed and built by the Bromsgrove Guild, in 1905. Founded by William Gilbert in 1897, the Bromsgrove Guild was formed to provide employment for those craftsmen previously working in defunct industries in Bromgrove.

The sculptured Royal Arms were designed by Louis Weingartner, an exceptionally gifted sculptor. I wander to the south of the Palace into Green Park.

Canada Gate (insert beaver with maple leave in teeth) on the south side of Green Park. Curiously, I find almost no information about the history of the gate.

Canada Memorial sculpted by the French-Canadian artist Pierre Granche (1948-1997). It pays tribute to the Canadians who participated in the two World Wars. The monument is made of bronze and polished red granite, with inset bronze maple leaves that resemble leaves floating downstream. At the top of walkway is a compass with this inscription in English and French: In two world wars one million Canadians came to Britain and joined the fight for freedom. From danger shared, our friendship prospers. The walkway is in the direction of Halifax-to-London, as most of the Canadians departed from Halifax to London to join the war efforts.

Children and adults walk all over the monument despite a sign clearly asking people not to do so out of respect for those it commemorates. But it is designed in such a way that it seems to invite people to walk on it, to allow the tumbling water sliding across its surface to wet ones toes!

I try to capture the effect of the inch of water gliding over the inset bronze maple leaves. Earlier, I was told that Britons actually like Canadians (and I never saw evidence suggesting otherwise) and the name Canada features prominently in divers places: Trafalgar Square, Canary Wharf, here in Green Park. I spoke to the youth members of a Canadian Rifle Team (including one Bluenoser) who were lounging around Canada Gate, dressed in bright red, maple-leaf emblazoned jackets.

I abandon Royalty and the Parks around Buckingham Palace and go, once more, in search of Henry John Burton Marriott, this time starting in Notting Hill. Jack used to tell me that he once lived in Bayswater but on today's maps it seems more like Notting Hill, just off Portobello Road, the famous area lined with hundreds of small shops or stalls, many selling antiques, retro clothes, and the like. My own guidebook tells me that "in the 1950s and 1960s, Notting Hill became a centre for the Caribbean Community and today is a vibrant cosmopolitan part of London." Apparently, some British actor made a movie named Notting Hill.

As I wander along Portobello Street, I find one of the orginal shops, new at about the time Henry Marriott moved here.

Looking north along one section of Portobello Street.

Multi-coloured shop fronts on a section of Portobello, which today is not very crowded. On the August Bank Holiday Week-end this area is home to Europe's largest street carnival, but I shall miss it. Below, various scenes from Notting Hill.

The Marriotts moved to this upscale neighbourhood in the 1890s, having originated in Lewisham on the south side of the Thames (and they returned to their roots in about 1904) and were here for the 1901 London Census. Jack Marriott revisted his home in 1937 and took photographs of the surroundings, especially No. 4 Colville Gardens, below.

Jack noted that already by 1937 the facade had changed, and it has obviously changed since, but not so much as to be unrecognizable.

Jack wrote that it was on this corner of Colville Square that his father waited for the bus to take him to the London Stock Exchange, where he was a stockbroker. Above, as recorded in 1937; below, 70 years later. (I note that the doorways have mostly, but one, been shifted to the other side of these houses.)

When Jack was a schoolboy, he attended Beauclerc School, over the doorway of which was written, "For the sons of gentlemen." In his 1937 photo, the school, No. 11, was the porch on which a woman stands.

Today it is unclear to me which apartment once housed his school.

The day has passed quickly and my useless knee has started to swell, so I walk back to Notting Hill Gate Station, catch the Underground to Baker Street, and walk over to Marylebone Station to catch a train for home. (I am becoming clever in London: I now know that even I can walk faster from Baker Street Station to Marylebone Station than it takes me on the Underground.)

I will return to London once more, on Saturday, for a matinee performance at the Theatre Royal Haymarket of Waiting for Godot, featuring Sir Ian McKellan and Patrick Stewart.