Thursday: an eclectic day, combining visits to the Vagina Museum (yes really), the Mithraeum (the ruin of a Roman temple), and the Silver Vaults.

The first stop involved taking a long Tube ride to Whitechapel, in the heart of old working class East London. There are now large, relatively recent immigrant communities here and it’s immediately striking how many women are wearing hijabs or niqabs compared to other areas of the city. The street markets are also full of delicious fruits and vegetables that we couldn’t identify. Definitely still a relatively poor area but with hints of “bougie-fication” – cafes, hipster clothes shops etc. Down a grotty looking alley under a railway line –

there’s a row of businesses built in under the railway arches, including –

We always try to visit unusual museums and this definitely fit the bill. Its origin is especially amusing for us – see text below –

because we only discovered it after discovering that in Iceland a month from now we’ll be staying near, yes, the Penis Museum that started it all.

The museum is smaller and less robust than we’d expected (it is relatively new, just a few hundred square feet, and relies upon crowdsourced funding), but occupies a place between activism and art. The name itself is activism– as they point out, nearly half of all parents only use euphemisms when talking to their daughters about their genetalia.

Features include an exhibit on menopause and one about how different cultures talk (or don’t) about women’s health. My favorite image was a reproduction of a woodcut illustrating a 17th century poem about a woman ridding their island of a demon by showing him the “wound” her oh so strong and threatening husband could inflict upon the demon. Struck with horror, the demon flees, never to return.

From the activism side, there was a copy of a modern tampon book from Germany. These “books,”  containing 15 tampons, were published to reduce the tax burden of buying period products: until recently, menstrual products were taxed at 19% while books were taxed at 7%.

From here we refueled at an exceedingly hipster sandwich shop (Rogue Sarnies would be completely at home in Portland) and then walked several miles down to the Mithraeum. I (K) really need a bright orange t-shirt that says “tourist” in large letters–I was so busy looking around that I was a complete menace to car and bike traffic.

The Mithraeum, a Roman temple to Mithras, was uncovered during construction of Bloomberg’s headquarter building. It apparently sat uncovered in the car park for years, until they decided to move it into the basement of the building for conservation. Now, partially reconstructed and housed in a darkened room, you partake of the temple “experience” through the judicious use of light shined through haze to create the impression of ghostly walls.

Upstairs there is a wall covered in artifacts uncovered during the construction of the building. It is remarkable to see a nearly perfect shoe worn by a Roman soldier in the first century AD.

Outside the building we admired the art installation evoking the Walbrook River which ran through London during Roman times.

We walked on, through increasing rain, past the Duke of Wellington outside the Bank of England –

to the Silver Vaults. Originally built in the 1880s as a non-bank safe depository for rich people’s prized possessions, it morphed over time into a secure space for silver dealers, especially during WWII as space potentially protected from bombing.

Now it is an Aladin’s cave of all things gloriously silver, from spoons, to tea sets, to menorahs, to elaborate sailing ships. One favorite: special tongs for eating asparagus one spear at a time.

Back out to discover the rain really coming down and decided we should take the bus home rather than the tube so we could appreciate the city views. It was a nice idea that failed – an hour at near walking pace in a not-warm sauna.

Wednesday: took in a pair of major-minor historic sites not far from Clarissa’s – the carefully preserved and restored houses of legendary Victorian illustrator Linley Sambourne (d. 1910) and the artist and socialite Lord Frederick Leighton (d. 1896).

Sambourne was a wholly self-taught artist who became famous for his satirical work with Punch magazine and illustration of great children’s classics like Alice Through the Looking Glass and The Water Babies, but he never made a lot of money. Living well beyond his means, with his wife he created a wonderfully cluttered aesthetic oasis in a narrow row house, where regular guests included Everret Millais and Oscar Wilde.

Interesting features included areas where he had bought very expensive wallpaper but only papered the parts of the walls not covered with numerous framed pictures, and tiny armchairs that visitors assume were for children; actually they were for women wearing bustles. Apparently you would sit down directly on the chair, on the bustle, and this would bring you to the same height as the man sitting next to you in an ordinary armchair.

Leighton’s house is only 5 minutes walk away but halfway there we had to collapse into a Persian restaurant and eat a delicious spiced herbed stew and an eggplant and tomato stew over saffron rice.

Leighton – the only artist ever to be made a Lord – clearly was never short of money, and his house is something of a small palace. He was obsessed with the Middle Eastern and Arabic culture – he made visits in that part of the world every year for 40 straight years – and aside from a vast clutter of art and objet the most impressive thing is the Arab Room, which is two stories high and exquisitely tiled throughout with quotations from the Quran and a fountain and pool in the middle.

Popular music aficionados might recognize the Arab Room, used apparently in a variety of movies and TV shows, from the video of The Stranglers’ ‘Golden Brown.’

When Leighton died, most of the furnishings in the house were sold by his sisters to raise money to pay his bequests. The home, which couldn’t be sold, was eventually donated to the Council. In recent years, as the house has been being restored and operated as a museum, curators are slowly acquiring objects to restore the home. Where they know of a particular item from letters or other descriptions, but haven’t been able to locate the original or a suitable stand in, they have placed so called ghost objects. A fascinating way to give the impression of how a room looked while maintaining the authenticity of the space.

An enthusiastic and knowledgeable docent, who turned out to be a painter himself, showed us around. Because he had something interesting to say about virtually everything, we would have been there longer than our schedule allowed and we had to abandon him and browse through the last half of the house rather more quickly. Back to Clarissa’s briefly…

… and then back out across London to Tower Bridge, which we crossed in crowds and rain…

… to the Bridge Theatre, where we saw a hit revival of Steven Sondheim’s Into the Woods, a clever musical mashup of about five different iconic children’s tales including Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Bean Stalk, etc.

As Clarissa put it, Sondheim is a bit like “the Benjamin Britten of musicals.” This did not disappoint–excellent book and fabulous cast. Such a treat!

After a long night’s sleep then multiple cups of tea, we set out on the river tow path, walking north towards Putney Bridge and Fulham Palace. Along the way we admired the Egyptian geese.

Fulham Palace became the home of the Bishops of London starting in 704 when the Bishop of Hereford granted the manor of Fulham to Bishop Waldhere. The last Bishop to reside there left in 1973, and in 1975 the building was leased by the Burroughs of London and Fulham. Two restorations have been undertaken, and now the palace houses numerous exhibit rooms and a lovely café looking out into the large walled garden.

We enjoyed standing in a room where Elizabeth I had dinner in 1601, admired the bones of one of the first turkeys eaten in the UK, and contemplated the Anglican Church’s long ties to slavery. Its hard to understand how Bishop Bielby Porteus could be such a strong figure in the movement to abolish transatlantic trade in slaves without being against slavery itself. Kudos to the museum for openly tackling this complicated history.

We walked out through the garden into All Saints Putney, where three Elizabethan memorials caught our eyes.

Margaret’s plaque explains that she was married for 17 years, had 7 sons and 2 daughters (3 of whom died as infants), and then “yielded her soul” at the age of 33.

Another grave stone from about the same time memorialized a beloved son and father, listed his many civic accomplishments, and, after noting he died at just age 33, exhorted the reader to reflect upon his generous life and “contemplate that tonight you may be called upon to yield your soul.”

We exited the church at the other end and stopped to admire the lovely almshouses just outside of the church yard.

One of the residents helpfully explained they’re still running as a charity. She noted that when she moved in (20 years ago) you had to be over 60 to apply. Now its only over 50 and the young people just aren’t as community minded–they’re too busy going out at night.

Easy flights, though we were unfortunately unable to watch the Superbowl. Did enjoy the Icelandair announcement on arrival that “some of you on the plane will be pleased to know the Seattle Seahawks won the Super Championship Game.”

Everything had been going so smoothly until we went to enter the Underground station at Heathrow. Whooping sirens accompanied an announcement that they were investigating an alarm situation and they might need to evacuate the building. We paused, but decided to take our cue from the Londoners who pushed through anyway. Glad we did, as it meant we arrived at Clarissa’s moments before Isobel and new baby Hero.

Lovely lunch with them plus Adam, then a long river walk to stave off jet lag. Now 8pm and we’re knackered.

Light rail to Seatac –

and about to board our taxi to Iceland –

Less than 48 hours till departure.

It’s been a week of working through our to-do list. We have booked all the hotels (yea!) and even made one restaurant reservation, but we haven’t yet figured out packing (hmm, will our carry-ons fit on RyanAir?) nor sorted out mobile data plans (do we need one?). The Amazon fairy is making regular deliveries and our meals are getting progressively odder as we try to clean out the fridge of perishables.